“I think so. I think we soothed—”

Before I can finish my sentence, I’m sprayed in the face with some sort of milky liquid.

“Oh fuck,” Huxley says, jumping back to avoid whatever hellish liquid the doll is spewing.

“Get it off me, get it off me,” I yell as I run in place, holding Judith as far away from me as possible. “Oh my God, why does it smell?”

“I have a wash—” Huxley makes a gagging sound. “Jesus fuck, it smells so bad. What is that?”

“I don’t know, just get it off my face.”

“Everything okay over here?” Heaven’s voice cuts through the chaos.

I pause my theatrics and try not to vomit from the putrid smell on my face. “Judith is experiencing an exorcism,” I say.

“I can see that. It seems as though she’s not feeling well. Is that how you’d hold a baby who’s not feeling well?”

“This is how I’d hold a baby that just sprayed sour milk all over my face. She’s lucky she’s not rolling on the ground by herself.”

Huxley wipes my face with a washcloth, and I allow myself to take a deep breath once most of the liquid is gone.

“Why does it smell?” I ask Heaven, who’s standing in front of us with a judgey look on her face.

“We try to make the experience as authentic as possible, which is why I’d ask that you treat the baby like a real one.”

“I am. I was just caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting for—”

Judith gurgles.

Judith makes an odd sound.

And then, to my horror, Judith starts leaking something brown.

Without even thinking, I screech, drop Judith on the table, and step away as a fresh round of putrid stench comes from Judith’s plastic bottom.

And of course, because she’s Satan’s baby, she wails so loud that everyone is looking at us now, even Dave and Ellie, who are coddling Enoch.

This is not going well.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as we sit outside of the building, cleaned up, thankfully all remnants of Judith wiped away.

“Don’t be, that doll was possessed.”

“Yeah, but I got us kicked out of the class.”

After Judith had another “upset belly,” as Heaven liked to call it, I swore at the doll, which caused our eviction from the classroom.

I’m sorry, but if that was a real child, I probably would’ve reacted the same exact way, except the whole dropping the baby thing. But I doubt there’s one parent out there who would’ve been able to keep their cool as they were being blasted by their baby from every hole. Please show me one parent who would’ve been able to handle that situation with dignity and grace.

None.

“Kicking us out of class was aggressive,” Huxley says. “Just because of your litany of swear words? Frankly, I thought it was a colorful combination.”

I lean against him and press a kiss to his cheek. “I appreciate you appreciating my ability to combine swear words.”

The door to the building opens and Dave and Ellie step out, holding hands. When they spot us, they smile with apologetic looks.

“We weren’t sure if you two left or not,” Ellie says. “That was a bit of a rough situation in there.”

Huxley helps me stand and places his arm over my shoulder, keeping me close to him. “I’m not sure we were expecting things to be so volatile,” Huxley says with humor in his voice.

Dave chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a string of unfortunate events before.” He smirks. “And congrats on the swear words. Quite impressive, Lottie.”

I feel my face heat up with embarrassment. I was so thrown off by Judith that I completely forgot about all decorum and the purpose of being in the damn class to begin with—to impress Dave. I really hope I didn’t just screw things up for Huxley. This deal that seems to have been dragged on forever.

“Sorry about that.” I wince. “I think I was so overcome by the smell that I lost all ability to act like a normal human.”

“No need to apologize,” Dave says. “I’m not sure I would’ve been able to hold it together if the same thing happened to me.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to,” Ellie says, resting her hand on her belly. “I’m starving. Would you guys care to join us for some dinner?”

“That would be great,” I answer for the both of us before Huxley can come up with an excuse. I think I owe it to him to give this outing one more shot.

“Wonderful,” Ellie says. “Right around the block, there’s a quaint sandwich shop I’m obsessed with. Does that sound good?”

I nod. “Lead the way.”

Dave and Ellie take off, but Huxley holds me back a few steps. Whispering into my ear, he says, “You don’t have to do this. I know you probably want to get home.” And shower. Yes, God, yes. But . . .

“I owe it to you,” I answer.

His lips run over my ear, sending chills down my arm. “You owe me nothing. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I link my fingers with his, twining them together. “I promise, I’m okay. Let’s see if we can make a dent in this deal.” I wink and let him draw me in closer as we trail behind Ellie and Dave. He leans away suddenly and clears his throat.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, um . . . I don’t think you got all the baby vomit out of your hair.”

Oh fuck.

“Don’t you just love a meaty sandwich?” Ellie asks, taking a ravenous bite of her Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Cheese drips off her chin as she smiles and chews.

Dear God.

“I love all the meat in my mouth,” I answer, causing Huxley to snort next to me. Huh, I guess that didn’t sound quite right.

“So sad that you opted for the soup. You could’ve really chowed down on this cheesesteak.”

I got the chicken noodle soup because, frankly, I had no idea what a pregnant lady could eat, and since Ellie and Dave insisted on us ordering first, I went with something neutral. Trust me, that cheesesteak looks phenomenal.

“Not sad at all,” I answer, scooping up a spoonful of the boring broth. “Love me a good soup.” I shovel the spoon into my mouth and pretend to enjoy the lackluster meal.

“Is that so?” Dave asks. “Are you a big souper?”

“She’s obsessed with soup,” Huxley steps in to say. He’s been done with his sandwich for a bit now, having opted for something small with a side salad. His arm is draped over my chair and he’s been casually twirling my hair with his finger. “Remember that barley soup you made for us that one night?”

Uhhh . . . no.

And frankly, soup is ehhh. I’m not much of a heated-liquid person. I prefer a hearty sandwich, so where is he going with this?

“Oh, yeah, the barley soup,” I answer.

“You used a whole jar of dried barley.” Huxley laughs and turns to Dave and Ellie. “I tried to be the doting fiancé and eat it, but it wasn’t swallowable.”

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of unswallowable things,” Ellie says, looking at Dave with a certain glint in her eye. Good . . . God!

Dave raises his hand apologetically. “Not the best cook . . . in any aspect.”

Is it just me or are these two throwing down sexual innuendos?

If they are . . . gross!

“And then there was the beef and potato stew you made,” Huxley continues, being Mr. Chatty today. “Now, that was good.”

Since we’re throwing out sexual innuendos . . .

“Because I’m great at handling meat.”

Huxley’s eyes fix on mine. “You’re very good at it.”

We stare at each other, smiles playing on our lips. Is he thinking about last night? Because I am. I’m thinking about how I spent a good ten minutes handling his meat while he writhed beneath me, begging for release.

“Oh, Dave, do you see that?” Ellie asks.

Huxley and I both snap out of our ogling and turn toward the couple opposite us.

“Yep.” Dave has a huge smile on his face. “I think that’s our cue, sweetheart. We need to leave these two alone.”