“Matilda’s got some plans to train Dominic now. Apparently, he likes to rock climb. Likes getting all trussed up.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Angela said.

“Bernice put her name in for Dominic,” said Kit. “He also likes black and curvy.”

“That’s not fair. I’m black!”

“You ain’t curvy.”

“But I wasn’t even offered—”

“Hey, girls!”

Tracina snuck in through the side door, accompanied by her fifteen-year-old brother, Trey. He was a nice kid, but because of his autism it was difficult for him to play with his peers. Still, Tracina had begun to make more of an effort to involve him in adult social activities, and sometimes Will let him help upstairs to keep him busy, when coloring books stopped working.

“Who likes curvy black girls?” she asked. “’Cause that’s all I am, just a big ol’ curve!”

“New bartender at Maison I got my eye on,” Angela said. “Did you two walk here?”

“Yup, Trey was my big helper. Baby, go play with Boots. Girls gotta talk.”

Angela patted around on top of the fridge. “Here’s the remote for the TV,” she said, tossing it to Trey. “You remember how to use it, right?”

He nodded and headed to the bedroom, then Angela launched into big-sister mode.

“You’re gonna have a baby in less than three weeks and you walked here? Will’s gonna get a kick right in the middle of his skinny white ass.”

“I told him I wanted to walk. And Trey needs more exercise too. Will knows to pick us up—and all the presents,” she said, shaking her behind in joy.

I watched the three of them, Kit, Angela and Tracina, gauging their level of intimacy. Did Tracina know about S.E.C.R.E.T., or had they kept it from her? It was impossible to tell.

Tracina offered a wan “Hey, Cassie” over her shoulder, followed by “Will’s niece Claire’s working out, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, Will lucked out with her,” I said, arranging baby carrots on a veggie tray.

“No, we lucked out. Me and you,” she added. “She’s gonna babysit for me, and work your night shifts. Let the young’uns take over is what I say. Dell should just pull up a stool at the cash register and call it a day. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lift a finger in the new place. I don’t want to wait tables ever again. All I want to do is make the schedule, sample the menu and taste the wine.”

Had Will told Tracina that he’d offered me the manager job? Did it matter? She’d find out sooner or later, and hopefully when she’d be too blissed-out over her baby to care.

The rest of the guests began to arrive, including Dell, who wore her pale yellow church hat and matching gloves. Tracina carefully navigated the small room, passing out punch, frequently coming perilously close to toppling Angela’s vases and framed photos with her belly. Angela abided by Tracina’s only request—“no stupid shower games”—but she was forced to wear the bows from every gift on a paper plate hat. Maybe because the room erupted into laughter over the last of the gifts—a set of Luna beads from Kit for “post- pregnancy fitness”— no one heard the knock at the door. Even I, sitting right next to it, didn’t hear it until it became so insistent I finally got up to answer.

Standing there was a stony-faced Will, and he was not alone. Next to him was Carruthers Johnstone himself, who’d just won re-election as the D.A. of Orleans Parish. Something told me he wasn’t here to thank his constituents. I took a step back as though whatever ire now possessing the two men was catchy.

Tracina’s face was grim—grey even. She was sitting in her silly “chair of honor,” wearing a now terribly ridiculous hat covered in festive bows, holding a set of ebony Luna beads in her hand.

“Tracina, everyone, I’m sorry to barge in on you all like this,” Carruthers said, not sounding like a politician at all, but like a broken man. “I saw you walking down the street and I’ve been circling the block for half an hour …”

“Who’s this guy?” Will muttered to Tracina, fully entering the hot crowded room.

Tracina looked from one man to the other, her mouth slack. It took her a moment to speak, and when she did, she went from zero to sixty on the emotion meter.

“Why are you here?” she wailed at Carruthers, trying to stand without assistance, nearly toppling forward. “I told you I do not need anything from you!”

“I’m here because I love you, Tracina,” Carruthers boomed. “I told you it wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of me. And if that’s my baby, it’s going to be impossible.”

Every woman in the room drew a sharp breath at the same time, emptying it of oxygen. Maybe that’s why Will looked like he was about to faint, his hand feeling for the wall behind him. I wanted to rush to him, but there were too many people between us—real obstacles, not just metaphorical ones.

“What about your wife?” Tracina boomed, still standing, her tiny fists on her hips.

Carruthers’ head fell forward. “I told her. It’s over.”

The rest of the room took this as their cue to examine the floor as well. When I looked back up, Tracina’s eyes were full of wonder. And Will’s face held an expression of unadulterated shock. The whole time, Dell sat stock-still, her fork poised in admiration of a slice of cake in front of her as though this awful business were not happening at all.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tracina muttered.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Will demanded.

Carruthers turned to him. “I apologize for the public manner in which all of this is coming out. But I believe I am the father of this baby,” he said. Then, to Tracina he added, “And I’m sorry to ruin your lovely party, but you won’t see me and you won’t take my calls, so you left me no choice.”

“Is what he’s saying true?” Will’s voice was now devoid of all emotion.

Tracina’s eyes softened as she gazed at Will, her expression saying it all, even if her words (“I don’t know”) didn’t. As if to punctuate the drama, a sudden stream of water trickled down her legs, pooled at her feet on the pine floors. She peered down, trying to see over her belly.

“Oh my god, I’m peeing myself.”

“No, honey,” said Dell, finally bringing her fork to her mouth and chewing a bite of cake. “That’s your water breaking.”

“My what?”

Angela screamed first. Carruthers scrambled over to Tracina and eased her down into a chair. Will stood motionless watching all of this, while I ran to fetch towels. Water was still cascading down Tracina’s legs when I returned, and Carruthers’ D.A. personality was in high gear.

“We’re not waiting for an ambulance to come to Treme,” he said, pointing at Will’s phone. “My Escalade’s outside. I’ll take you now, baby,” and to me, to me, he yelled, “grab her other arm.” And that’s how I got sucked into the maternal entourage, Tracina barking orders over her shoulder for Kit and Angela to watch Trey, keep Trey, tell Trey not to worry.

As we piled into the back seat, I got a last look at an ashen-faced Will, his whole body shaking as he tried to get his truck door to open, then rushed around to the passenger side and slid across. I should be with him, I thought, helping him through this. That I ended up being the one to hold Tracina’s hand instead of Will’s was the oddest surprise of the day.

A contraction seized Tracina and she dug her fingers into my thigh.

“Am I gonna be okay?”

“Of course. Of course you are! Just breathe,” I said, as calmly as possible, smoothing her hair off her sweaty face.

“Hold on, honey. I’m gonna get you there as fast as I can,” Carruthers said as he pushed on the gas.

Tracina turned to me. “I’m an awful person,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I feel so awful.”

“Don’t worry about anything else right now except this baby, okay?” I felt her hand tighten in mine, saw her eyes squeeze shut.

I turned around and spotted Will’s truck behind us, weaving perilously, trying to keep up. Poor Will. If this proved to be true, if he really wasn’t the baby’s father, it’d gut him. Despite all the drama and uncertainty that surrounded the pregnancy, the only thing Will had ever seemed sure of was his devotion to this baby.

Carruthers was driving fast, but every once in a while he checked on Tracina via the rearview mirror. “You’re gonna be okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tracina never answered, her clammy hand gripped in mine, nothing registering on her face now except waves of pain.

We made it to the Touro Birthing Center in record time; Carruthers had called ahead on a hands-free phone so a nurse was standing by with an empty wheelchair. Once Tracina was in the chair, she reached up, looking around for me, and grabbed my hand.

“Cassie, stay with Will. He’s gonna need a friend,” she said.

What? Had I heard her right? She let go of my hand, and reached for Carruthers’ as she was wheeled into the center.

I found my way to the delivery area waiting room. A few minutes later Will came huffing in, eyes wild, a line of sweat down the middle of his T-shirt.

“Where’d they go?”

“Down there,” I said, “but I don’t think—”

He didn’t wait for me to finish. He busted through the doors and disappeared down the hall. I was so jangly already that the vibrating in my purse didn’t register at first as a phone call. I answered over the sound of a loud and braying intercom announcement, plugging my ear to hear better.

“Hey, lady. Where y’at? Sounds like the racetrack. Don’t bet your whole paycheck.”

It was Jesse, his voice mellow and grounding.