Page 37 of Over & Out

I roll my eyes. Of course. “It’s a list people put up for gifts for their baby showers—never mind. I’ll ask Cindi.”

Hopper’s looking awkward. Or guilty or something.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Did you get Tru something bad for her shower? Like adult diapers instead of kids ones or something?” I can see it.

Hopper grimaces. “Tru didn’t have a baby shower.”

My smile drops. “Really? Not even with friends?”

“She was supposed to! I mean, I was supposed to help find her time, but she kept insisting she didn’t want one and…well, I messed up. Ask Cindi. She gave me so much shit for it. She would have planned one, but…I, uh, I dropped the ball.”

I stop walking. He looks genuinely upset by this. Good. He should be. “Tru did everything for you!” I exclaim. I prop my hands on my hips. “Did you at least get her a gift?”

“I’m going to!” He runs his hand over the back of his neck. “I am. I was just hoping…”

I drop my arms, glowering. “That your new assistant would do it for you.”

“Okay, fine. Yes! But there’s no price limit! And I’ll bring it to her myself! You can fly to Vancouver or LA or whatever to go to the right stores. I just have no idea what to get. I looked, and it was overwhelming as fuck. Do you know what a diaper magician is? I sure as fuck don’t.”

“Diaper genie!”

“Whatever! And what the hell is the difference between a cradle and a bassinet? What happened to cribs? And why are some of them bad?”

He looks genuinely dismayed, and if I weren’t so upset, I’d laugh at him. But the fact that he was supposed to help set up a shower—not even that, just set up atime—and failed? It’s inexcusable.

“Youare going to prioritize getting an amazing present for her,” I say, pointing a finger at his chest. “Not me. You. You have a unique relationship with Tru. Just order something online at a shop near where she lives and include a gift receipt. Don’t overthink it. Okay? And if you don’t do it, there will be…consequences.”

He frowns. “What kind of consequences? I already gave you five hundred bucks after you found me in the laundry room with no pants.”

I was actually so shocked by this the other day—both him doing his own laundry and the lack of pants—that I forgot about the fine. That is until he padded back to his room and came out with his wallet. He pulled out five hundred-dollar bills and slapped them onto the table with a glower. He added a sixth because he forgot the pants he wanted to wear in the laundry room so couldn’t pull them on until skulking back there. Of course theman walks around with multiple crisp C-notes in his pocket. Totally normal.

I think about the consequences appropriate for messing up a present for Tru. They should be grave. “I’ll sign you up for lactation lessons at the local mom’s group in Redbeard Cove so you can help advise Tru on breastfeeding issues.”

Hopper goes pale.

I don’t think lactation lessons are a thing. And I’m pretty sure Tru would very rightly tell him to fuck off if he so much as mentioned the wordbreastto her. But the look of abject panic on his face when I tell him I’m deadly serious is a thing of beauty.

“Okay, fine! I’ll buy her a present. Tonight.”

“I’ll block off your calendar.”

The Swan River Hotel is a beautiful boutique inn at the convergence of the Swan River and the ocean. It also happens to be the place where Hopper infamously destroyed a room a few months back. Right now, they look to be in the midst of an extensive renovation. Scaffolding covers the front, and service trucks and workers are everywhere. But it doesn’t seem to have had any impact on business. In fact, the parking lot is swarming with happy-looking couples and families on this gorgeous crisp November day.

At the foot of the stairs leading to the front doors, a woman recognizes Hopper. I know this because she screams “Ohmigod! Hopper Donnach!”

I freeze, because this is the first time I’ve seen Hopper be recognized in public, if you don’t count all the oglers at the Rusty Dinghy that day or the kids in the car. He usually travels well-disguised. Tru prepped me for this, and my instructions are not to put them off unless it’s an unruly mob situation. But Iamsupposed to cut things short once he’s signed a few. Otherwise we can kiss our schedule goodbye.

The woman has a friend with her, and a few other people are staring, but they’re not charging at us. They just look genuinely excited. I watch Hopper carefully, because I’m not sure what to expect. By all accounts, Hopper is not always excited to sign autographs. Tru told me that part. Nor is he always kind to fans. The media filled that part in. But those kids proved that wrong. Moreover, neither of these things track with the Hopper I’ve gotten to know over the past week. I watch the scene like an anthropologist.

The only sign Hopper makes that this situation has affected him is a little clench in his jaw. But then he grins, making even me completely starstruck for a moment. I remember myself and stand close to him, ready for whatever the situation calls for.

“Oh, I just loved you as the Duke,” one woman says as Hopper signs what appears to be a tissue she fished out of her purse. “Me too,” the other one sighs. I watch, in pure shock, as her knees give way. Hopper doesn’t even blink. He just catches her by the shoulders and gets her standing again. She laughs like she just as disbelieving as I am that just happened. Then she gets him to sign her trembling hand.

“Duke fans, are you?” Hopper asks, squinting like the Duke.

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