Grace, as in Loved Unconditionally, surveyed the scene.

Three of her best friends were already in the back yard, sitting around their fire pit. Skip had a lighter in hand, trying to get the kindling to catch for their traditional Wasters weekend. Brains was on his phone, texting–no doubt his new beau. He’d been all aflutter the past couple days, ever since they became official.

Melody was looking back at Grace, making a long moment of eye contact before returning her attention to whatever conversation was happening around the fire.

She knew something was up, even if they’d said nothing overt as of yet.

Stepping up behind her, Pearce wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you sure?”

“They deserve to get the full rundown,” Grace had her own arms wrapped around plush hedgehog, and she gave him a little squeeze to soothe her anxiety. “And it’ll be better if we explain before someone figures it out and starts complaining that we cheated.”

It’d been three days since her case of supreme impulsivity, since their confession of love. The first day had been spent in a haze of fatigue, with Pearce nursing her slowly back to health as the drugs purged themselves from her system.

Between the love and the pain, neither of them had found time to sleep that night.

Pearce had only half explained to the others: “Grace is sick.” She was grateful for that. Some things could be left unsaid.

All night, he’d stayed with her. Her body couldn’t keep down fluids–anything she drank came out the other end almost as quickly–but he kept her supplied, kept her hydrated as best he could. Painkillers and electrolytes helped ease the agony, and by morning, her body had finally, mercifully, given up its fight with itself.

Then, finally, she slept. Pearce put her to bed, and she didn’t set an alarm. Pearce had her phone, and promised he’d let her know if any clients started texting, but it was the weekend. She’d probably be fine.

Even that rest wasn’t perfect–she woke several times, to find that she’d ruined her diaper in her sleep. That was new–no matter how long she’d worn, even when she suspected she may have gotten wetter overnight, she’d never pooped the bed. Still, her diapers did their job admirably, and so did Pearce, cleaning her up, bringing her food and drinks and ibuprofen, easing her discomfort until she dozed again.

Any time he wasn’t there, she had John to snuggle instead, not only her plush,but her closest confidant. She still hadn’t told Pearce the stuffy’s name, and still hadn’t decided if she would: Some things were too embarrassing to admit.

By the time night came, Grace was still exhausted, and Pearce was barely upright–he hadn’t even napped through the second day.

He’d been there for her, every moment she needed him.

And when he had no energy left, he got into her crib with her, and–together–they both finally got their restful sleep.

On the third day, then, they’d finally had to talk.

So, after more than their share of heavy petting and making out, they did, ultimately, get to the important business: Fucking like rabbits. Once that was done, they talked.

This was what they’d decided on–it was bonfire night already, they’d have everyone there to listen. It would be the best opportunity they’d get to set the record straight.

Then again, that would mean admitting to more than a few embarrassing secrets.

Looking out at the bonfire, Grace anxiously added, “Maybe we should just keep the bet going and pretend.”

“Come on, you might be a baby, but don’t be a baby,” Pearce said, kissing the back of her head. “We know you’re not going to talk yourself out of this.”

She nodded, reassured by his presence, and set aside John–she didn’t want her favorite plush smelling like a campfire. In the plushy’s place, she took Pearce’s hand and pushed open the door.

With him there, with his calming presence sitting next to her around the fire, it took Grace only one beer to work up the courage to speak.

“We have something we need to tell all of you,” Grace said, with a slight blush. “Pearce and I do, that is. It’s…about the bet.”

“What, you’re fucking?” Melody asked, smirking from across the campfire.

“No, that’s not it,” Brains corrected. “I think one of them’s quitting.”

Skip shook their head, cutting to the center of it. “You’re both wrong. They’re in love.”

Grace spluttered, the wind taken out of her sails. “I–well–I mean…”

Rather than confirm it with words, Pearce leaned over and demonstrated the truth nonverbally, kissing Grace without a scrap of hesitation.

Grace flushed, and that blush only deepened when her friends opened up with a chorus of cheers and hooting applause.

“We’re calling it a draw,” Pearce said, pulling away. “Nobody wins, nobody loses.”

That got the opposite response–boos and jeers.

“What, after all that?” Melody asked. “Seriously? Anticlimax.”

“Also that makes the bet kind of moot,” Brains added. “I had my money on you, too, Pearce.”

“Hold on,” Skip added. “Let’s be specific here. I might have some cash to collect yet.”

Everyone looked at them.

“What do you mean?” Brains asked.

“We placed a few bets,” Skip said, eyes locked on Grace. “Who won and who lost, that one’s moot. But after a couple weeks, we opened up that second bet–duration.”

Brains shrugged. “Well, sure, but it’s only been two months, and you said it’d keep going for three. Melody bet less than a month, so–oh, I guess that means I win. More than a month, less than three.”

“Hold it,” Skip said. “Let’s be specific here. I believe what I said was, ‘I bet Pearce will still be changing Grace’s diapers in three months.’”

Brains tilted his head, looking at Skip. He didn’t notice the way Grace’s face turned bright red, shrinking back into her camp chair, but Skip saw it plain as day.

“Erm–” Grace started.

“Well–” Pearce added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t get it,” Brains said, looking between them.

“Brains,” Melody said, “I don’t know how you’re not internet poisoned enough to figure this one out, you spend more time online than any of us.”

Brains blinked a couple times, then got it. “Oh! Grace has a diaper fetish.”

Grace could swear she felt steam coming out of her ears, embarrassment burning its way to the forefront of her expression. “Brains.”

“What?” he asked. “Is that not it?”

“You don’t just say that,” Melody shot. “Even if it’s…I mean, yeah, you’re probably right, but–”

“Skip said it first,” Brains pointed out. “How come it’s okay to imply she likes diapers but not to just say, ‘Grace likes diap–’”

“It’s not about the diapers,” Grace snapped. “It’s–agh. I need a drink. Pearce, may I?” Raising her baby bottle of beer, she made a screwing motion with her hand.

Reaching over, Pearce popped it off, so she could drink normally–and quickly.

Something Grace hadn’t considered–it’d been months since she’d drank out of a cup, and she wasn’t quite used to the motion. Rather than chug the beer, as intended, she poured a good splash of it down her chin, staining her plain onesie top.

Pearce smirked, and wordlessly took her bottle away. Filling it up with his own, he popped on the rubber nipple again and passed it back to her. “Okay, lid stays on.”

Feeling ridiculous, Grace shook her head. “It’s like…I like having him to take care of me. The diapers are just incidental.”

“So you’re going to stop wearing them?” Brains asked.

Grace looked away, refusing to answer.

“Give it another month,” Skip said, sitting back. “I’ll be collecting my winnings then.”

“We’re changing a lot,” Pearce interjected. “No more punishments, for one, and…we’re still deciding whether she’ll be ‘allowed’ to use the toilet.”

He passed it off as a joke, but there was a secret hidden excuse behind the comment: Grace was still having trouble holding it, and he wanted to give her an excuse to still be messing her diapers that didn’t involve any additional embarrassing admissions.

It was one thing to admit she kinda liked the diaper thing, and another thing entirely to explain that she’d failed to read any warning labels and overdosed on laxatives.

She’d made a call to her physician, and it sounded like she’d recover, but in the meantime, her diapers had become more necessary than she would ever admit.

“This doesn’t…bother you all, right?” Grace asked, glancing between her friends. “I mean, it’s not even a bet any more. I know it can be awkward when you have friends over and I’m dressed up, or…like…”

“Grace,” Melody said, “Please. Let your freak flag fly, not one of us cares.”

“But…” Grace bounced her leg, arbitrarily worried that there was a ‘but’ coming. “You got so annoyed, and–”

“Yeah,” Melody said, “Because you were being a faker. Starting arguments. I never cared what you were wearing. You like bottles and stuffies? Neat. When I start acting like I can judge you, just remind me what happened prom night and I’ll get my senses back.”

Smiling slightly, Grace reached out and touched Pearce’s arm, squeezing him for reassurance.

“Are you two going to share a bed now?” Brains asked, interjecting.

“Oh heck no,” Pearce said. “I like sleeping in, and this one snores like a chainsaw. We’re keeping our rooms–just expect lots of sleepovers.”

“Brains,” Skip said, “Were you asking because you wanted to call dibs on the spare room opening up?”

Brains glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “But, I’m just saying–Grace’s room is bigger than mine, and, y’know–”

Grace snorted. “Well, if we change our minds, and that becomes a possibility…hey, I’ll let you know. We’re still figuring a lot of this out. Figuring each other out, too. But…”

Turning, she looked at the man who’d driven her crazy in more ways than one, the man she loved, the man she knew would always do his best to be there for her.

“He makes me happy.”

He looked back at her, smiling with a warmth far deeper than the campfire. “You’re sappy when you drink,” he replied, smirking at her.

“You want sappy?” Grace asked, smiling back at him. “I named my hedgehog.”

“Oh? When did that happen?” Pearce asked, expecting a joke, or at least something cutesy.

“Like…a month ago,” Grace conceded, taking a moment to build to her reveal. She could be as dramatic as him, when she wanted to.

“Hah! I knew it,” Pearce said. “So, what’d you decide?”

“I named him John. Y’know…like you.” Grace finally admitted. Nobody in the Wasters used Pearce’s given name, it was impossible to miss what that name choice meant. “How’s that for sappy?”

Pearce’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was left without words. He leaned in, communicating more clearly with his lips than he could have with words. For the second time that night, they kissed, and this one lasted til they were both breathless and worked up.

Pulling away, Pearce looked her in the eyes. “You make me happy, too.”