Page 16 of Ripped & Shipped
“To Rob’s adopted baby?”
“Nope,” he says with a smile that won’t quit. “Toyournew niece or nephew.”
“To my …” I can’t finish the sentence because Aiden obviously overheard us.
“Is Shannon …?” Aiden asks.
Duke smiles and I swear his chest puffs out with pride. “She is. Eight weeks along. We agreed I could spring the news tonight, but then Rob stole my thunder.”
Rob smiles. “Our kids will grow up together.”
Duke nods, his joy palpable.
“Do the girls know?” Aiden asks.
He’s talking about all of their wives. It would definitely not be okay for us guys to find out before the women.
“She’s telling them tonight. But she’s waiting on telling her parents.” Duke gives me a knowing glance. “She wants to hit the three month mark before she tells her mom.”
I nod. Makes sense. Mom will be over the moon about being a grandma, but we need to be careful with news like this. Any loss could send her spiraling into dark places again.
I don’t know how Duke and Shannon expect to keep their pregnancy under wraps. This town isn’t known for its ability to conceal secrets, especially not ones of this magnitude. Mom’s not in the information food chain, but if word gets out, it will definitely make its way to Dad at his office. I sure hope Shannon gets to him first.
The table erupts into congratulations for both Duke and Rob, and I sit back, unable to hold in my smile. I always thought I’d be a dad before I became an uncle, but I’ll take this. Heck yeah, I will.
* * *
I usually work remotely from home, but on Wednesdays I check in with the main office. I also have ulterior motives for making my way to Columbus once a week. The fact that our office is headquartered there gives me an easy excuse.
The drive along the two-lane highway starts with farmland on either side of me—wide open fields with parcels of property scattered here and there. The world is full of people who have chosen to live an agrarian life—like Aiden—only he’s nearly in town compared to the folks out here. These farms are remote, set apart from prying eyes and annoying social media celebrities trying to turn their small town into a spectacle.
Why I can’t get Ella Mae off my mind is a mystery. I usually rule my thoughts, discarding the ones that distract or disable me. Last night I had a dream that I was being chased by all manner of Pop-Tarts—sprinkled, rainbow, and even s’mores flavored. They had little cartoon smiley faces, and out of their small, illustrated mouths, they were taunting me by yelling, “You’re no fun!” “You’re no fun!” “Have some fun once in a while!” “Do you even know what fun is?” “It’s letting loose.” “Let loose, Chris!”
Do you know what it’s like to wake to images of Pop-Tarts in miniskirts and high heels chasing you? Trust me. You don’t want to know. I woke up shaking my head, and craving processed food with neon-colored toppings.
This day away from Bordeaux will do me good. No way I’ll bump into a self-proclaimed star with a phone camera aimed in my face.
The scenery shifts from rural farmland to smaller cities, and before long, I see the skyline of Columbus come into view.
CHAPTER8
Ella Mae
My face truly looks radiant.I used my clay mask—not Mabel’s—last night before bed. Then I hydrated this morning before coming downstairs to film. I am looking fierce, if I do say so myself.
“I’ve been living on nothing but green drink for the past twenty-four hours in preparation for tooooonight!”
I nearly trigger the automatic exposure settings to readjust on my phone when I flash my smile at the camera. Home tooth-whitening system for the win!
Yes. Today is the day. As in,theday. I am meeting Drake tonight at Frisch’s Big Boy. I personally never thought I’d be excited to be meeting anyone at a cheesy family diner, but never say never, am I right?
I turn back to the camera.
“Okay my peeps! I have to sign off. Time for yoga, and then I’m going to steam my face. After I open my epidermis and moisturize, I’ll chill my pores shut with a cold cloth I just set in the freezer. I’ve got the best outfit picked out—it’s the one thatyouselected for me to wear! The patchwork herringbone dress has such a vintage Bob Mackie feel to it. Well done, to those of you who voted in the poll in my stories. You are literally the best! The. Best.
“Okay. This is me, Ella Mae, telling you to put the YOU in Fab-YOU-lous today. And for sure, for sure, be here on my channel when we go live at five-thirty Eastern Time tonight!”
I click the phone camera off with my tripod remote, and pause to read the stream of comments already flowing in beneath the live video. I can’t afford to get swept up in everything everyone’s saying. People are so hyped for my evening with Drake, but I have to stay focused and on schedule. I’ve set aside time later this afternoon to respond.
