I grimace as I unfold it. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yeah, baby. How lovely, that you’re wearing a bikini. You can put it right on top.”

I groan, but comply. Even as Avery gasps. “What is that three-legged nightmare?”

Rue blinks. “Oh, shit. I must be much higher than I thought.”

“Worry ye not, babe.” Tisha pets her hair lovingly. “I will protect you from ye olde tripod of terror.”

An hour later, Minami and I are the only two people in the group not speaking like we’re Chaucer scholars.

“Look at these kids, taking full advantage of their cannabinoid receptors. Should we be recording this for posterity?” she asks me. “Or would we be incriminating ourselves?”

“I don’t know. Is weed legal in Italy? Nyota, do you know?”

She is, at the moment, very focused on braiding Tamryn’s and Avery’s hair. Together. “The real question,” Nyota says, “is: Why are you two such sticks-in-the-mud? You both rejected the poisoned arancello, too.”

I shrug. “I was never even offered the arancello. And I figured that it should fall to someone, the burden of herding you guys back to the villa if you get lost in the lemon grove.”

Minami nods. “I, on the other hand, am pregnant.”

The silence that follows is molasses-thick. Even the waves stop swishing against the shore.

Until Rue turns to Tisha and whispers, comically loud, “Did we know that?”

The reply is equally stage-worthy. “I don’t think so.”

“Minami,” Nyota asks, “did you make a pregnancy announcement while all of us are high?”

Minami grins. “Maya’s not high. In fact, Maya’s crying.”

“Am I? I’m not. I’m just so—” My palms find my cheeks and come away wet. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you.” I lean forward to hug her as forcefully as I did the first time, at twelve. “I hope it’s a girl, just like Kaede. Or a boy, just like Kaede. Basically, I really think Kaede should graduate to little queen, and have a mini me to boss around.”

Everyone starts talking all at once—pregnancy stories, arguing over names, hoping for octuplets. But Minami lowers her voice and tells me, “She’ll be born in five and a half months. And Sul and I agree that you should be her godmother.”

I blink. “I…what?”

She laughs. “Sul’s sister is Kaede’s godmother, and…we love her, but she never bonded with Kaede. You are her favorite person in the whole world. After me, of course, but I am the owner of the boob. You’re amazing with kids. All that volunteering you do at the rink, teaching…you really enjoy spending time with them. So we’d love for you to be the one.”

A soft, cozy glow warms my chest. “Minami…It would be such an honor.” I’m choked up, and now she’s tearing up, too, and we’re hugging, and I hope I’m not leaving snot in her hair, but who knows?

“I find this incredibly wholesome and heartwarming, even though I hate children,” Nyota muses with detached, intellectual curiosity. “What’s up with that?”