Chapter 1

Abbie shaded her eyes against the bright afternoon sun, looking off into the distance. It was already 1:00. Jenny said she'd be there by 12:45, although Abbie should know by now that any time given by Jenny had a 30-minute window before and after. She'd arrive. Eventually.

"Your aunt is never on time, is she?" she said to the toddler sitting at her feet. He wasn't paying attention to his mom; rather, he was engrossed in burying an action figure in the sand before digging it up again and then squealing loudly when he found it. He did this over and over as Abbie watched, smiling. August Mills-Crane was already absurdly tall for 18 months, and Abbie suspected he'd be as tall as her by the time he reached elementary school. He had shiny black curls and light brown skin, but had inherited his father's light bluish-gray eyes. And his father's tendency toward melodrama, but she'd never tell Ichabod that.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Jenny called as she walked toward the pair. "Got tied up at work."

Abbie just raised a brow. "You're working on a Saturday? Is it legal?"

"Haha, very funny." Jenny bent down and scooped up her nephew, bending him backwards as she gave him a raspberry on his tummy. He squealed and laughed at the same time, the sound both piercing and hilarious. "I had to go in this morning but the time got away from me." Jenny said this as she flipped her giggling nephew over her shoulder, his body halfway down her back as he babbled "down down down." His little legs kicked and almost hit Jenny in the face, but she just laughed.

Abbie got up and reached for August, placing him in her lap as she sat back down in the sandbox. Grabbing his bucket and shovel so he wouldn't scramble away, she said, "You'll give him brain damage letting him hang upside down like that."

"He's part-Crane. He already has brain damage."

Abbie threw the plastic shovel at her sister. "Shut up."

Jenny just smirked as she plopped down into the sand and began helping August dig holes—plastic shovel now in hand—and zoom his racecars across the sand. He clapped his hands at Jenny's sound effects, mimicking his aunt's zooms and vrooms.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. What's up?" Abbie asked. She knew her sister was currently on the off-phase of her relationship with Irving, a relationship that had been a constant source of both stress and elation to her sister for the past four years. They had a cycle: great until Irving brought up some sort of commitment, then Jenny shut down. And when Jenny shut down, Irving left. But they always ended up together, and the cycle eventually began again.

Jenny shrugged. "Not much."

Abbie sighed inwardly, knowing she would have to drag the truth from her sister. Their relationship had improved, but Jenny still didn't trust Abbie all of the time. Abbie didn't think Jenny trusted anyone fully, and hadn't the day Abbie had lied about the trees in the woods.

"How's Frank?" Abbie ventured. She knew very well how her boss had been acting at the precinct: pricklier than usual, his orders sharp and his sense of humor blunted. This always meant Jenny trouble.

August laughed as Jenny raced the cars up his legs. "No idea. I haven't talked to him in a month."

"Jenny—"

Jenny held up a hand. "You didn't ask me here to talk about my relationship issues," she replied sharply. In a softer tone, she added, "And I don't want to talk about it."

When Ichabod and Abbie had married, Abbie had let Jenny have her apartment, where Jenny continued to live. She had continually refused to move in with Irving, despite his asking her multiple times. Abbie had realized that her sister craved the safety of a relationship but despised the constraints just as much. Even after everything they—all four of them—had gone through, Jenny remained aloof, although she had taken to August the moment he'd been born.

"I just want you to be happy," Abbie said. "You know that, right?"

Jenny raised her brows. "Like you and Ichy? First comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage," she sing-songed. At the dark look on her sister's face, Jenny returned to playing with August, who had fallen quiet. This usually meant it was time for a nap—when he stopped talking, squealing, crying or laughing. Rather like his father, Abbie thought.

Abbie ruffled August's curls and kissed his cheek. "He's about to fall asleep," she said softly to no one in particular. She looked back to Jenny and said, "But I did want to talk to you about something."

Jenny glanced up at her sister. "What, that you're pregnant again?"

Abbie gaped. "How—"

"It's pretty obvious: one, your bottle of water looks like it's filled with ginger ale or something, and I know you only drink it when you feel like you're going to puke. Two, you're wearing sweat pants and you never wear sweat pants in public. And three, you look like you're about to fall asleep right now. And I bet if I played you that Sarah McLachlan animal commercial on my phone you'd start sobbing."

"I'd start crying even if I weren't pregnant. And I saw you wipe your eyes one time when it came on." That had been an awkward afternoon: Abbie, pregnant with August, sobbing at the stupid commercial because she couldn't find the remote to change the channel (too upset to remember the TV itself had buttons to change channels), and Ichabod running in, terrified that his wife was hurt, and Jenny laughing the entire time (although Abbie suspected she was crying, too).

Jenny waved a hand. "Whatever. The real question is: when are you going to tell Ichy?"

August had fallen onto his side, his head pillowed on Abbie's leg, now fast asleep. The kid could fall asleep anywhere, any time. "Don't call him Ichy. And tonight, I guess. I've been putting it off because he got so weird with August."

When Abbie had told Ichabod she was pregnant, he'd been excited but mostly terrified. He'd tried to hide the terror, but it didn't help that he was obsessed with reading and looking up everything online, discovering every possible thing that could go wrong, every symptom that could be something dire. He'd stayed up late one night reading What to Expect When You're Expecting and had barged into their bedroom at 2 AM, making sure Abbie's ankles weren't swollen and that she didn't have a headache because if so they needed to go to the hospital right now—

Abbie had kicked him out of the house for that stunt.

Her pregnancy had been easy, really. Just usual things like first trimester morning sickness, some extra crying (or crying in general, as Abbie rarely cried), and an obsession with donut holes. She'd been more concerned about her stupid husband than for herself.

"Well, it better be a girl this time," Jenny said. "I need a niece to corrupt."

"It'll be the last one, so you better pray extra hard." Abbie scooped up August and stood. "I should take him home. You'll come to dinner sometime at the cabin, right? You're a pain in the ass, but we like having you around."

Jenny kissed August on his forehead. "Sure, yeah, just text me." She turned to leave, but added, "Oh, and congrats. You're a great mom." And before Abbie could respond, Jenny walked away, her hands in her pockets, her long, curly hair blowing in the breeze.

Abbie just shook her head. "Well, I guess we better prepare for tonight, huh?" she said to her sleeping son.

He just snuggled into her neck and sighed in response.

I don't know what this is. I blame Tumblr and all the posts about Ichabbie babies. IT'S ALL Y'ALL'S FAULT.

I've always heard What to Expect When You're Expecting is a terrifying book, because it's more like everything that can go wrong encyclopedia. And the symptoms Ichabod was looking for are ones for pre-eclampsia aka high blood pressure.