Page 84 of Castaway Whirlwind
While many of my employees scatter, Elliott remains where he is, his brows drawn as he and Freddy make eye contact for a solid minute. When Freddy’s brows lift with a growing mischievous smile, Elliott suddenly casts his gaze down, and he trails back into the darkest corner without a word.
A good number of my younger employees boldly step forward, lining up like contestants in some kind of pageant. Surprise gets the best of me when Paul joins the line last, still holding Gauge, his face turned to the side with a hungry expression aimed at none other than Cora’s co-worker and new best friend, Mckinley, her hair recently dyed a bright, vibrant blue.
Biting her lower lip, Mckinley straightens to her impressive height, especially in her platform heels, and juts her rounded hip out while making acome heremotion with a curled finger. Paul grins before breaking from the line of men and jogging toward her.
“Called it the minute they met,” Layla says with a laugh, referring to the day Mckinley came over after everything settled down to go swimming with Cora while Paul was still in town. “Pete owes me twenty bucks.”
“This is the weirdest wedding I’ve been to,” Cooke says, sipping from her glass of champagne when she joins us,as uncomfortable as Elliott now that she’s out of uniform and wearing a dress with her short blonde hair loose for once. She narrows her eyes with irritation when Green slowly approaches.
Layla slides my billfold from my back pocket, waving it in the air high above her head, walking backward toward the stage. “I’ve got fifty on Zoey and Joshua!”
Cooke nearly spits her drink out, shaking her head. “No way, nu uh.”
“Got it,” Pete shouts, writing Layla’s bet down in his notebook.
“I’m out of here.” Cooke shoves her nearly empty glass in my hands and takes off toward the patio, her high heels slowing her down.
“I told you!” Green yells, running after her. “There’s no point in resisting fate!”
Cooke zigs. “Get away from me! You’re too young!”
Green zags. “Age is just a number, cookie!”
“Ew, don’t call me that!”
Green catches her when her ankle rolls after she jumps over the wooden fence like a track star, and he swings her up in his arms. “Got you now, and I’m hungry for a sweet treat,” he says, nipping her jaw and carrying her toward his decked-out 4 Runner.
“Nothing but trouble.” Sheriff plops down on a chair instead of intercepting Green kidnapping Cooke, slinging back his shot glass with a heavy sigh.
“Best kind of trouble there is,” I say, setting my eyes on my little darlin’ wife.
Chapter 27
Layla
Russell holds me close, rubbing my back and humming as we stand in our private hallway. I’m fairly certain I bombed my Digital Marketing Strategy test yesterday since I could hardly keep focus. Being that I’m in an accelerated program to finish my bachelor’s degree before I begin working full-time for Violet, whose business Russell invested in so she could expand operations and hire more help, every grade is major.
But it’s not as major as this moment right now while we wait for the pregnancy test results fifteen weeks after the surprise appointment Russell made with the fertility specialist following our wedding. We could have waited. Tried for at least six months to conceive naturally now that I’ve had my surgery, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of potentially more negative tests before opting for IVF. Russell’sadvanced age, as the doctor put it bluntly, was a determining factor as well.
The timer on my phone chimes from inside the bathroom, and Russell tips my chin up with two fingers. “Ready?”
“No,” I answer truthfully, my head spinning with anxiety.If the test is negative, I don’t know how I’ll cope after all of the money we’ve spent, the numerous doctor’s appointments, and the twice-daily hormone shots that have left tender bruises on my thigh.
“Do you want to wait a little longer? Try again tomorrow or next week?”
“No,” I repeat, knowing that if I indeed can’t cope on my own, Russell will be here to help me, lending me his strength. Plus, he’s as excited and nervous about the results himself, and I don’t want to make him wait any longer.
Russell isn’t impatient with me as I take a few deep breaths to steady myself before he leads me into the bathroom, standing with his arms wrapped around me from behind as I stare at the test lying face down on the stone vanity. I shakily press the red button on my phone and prop it up, wanting a video of our reactions that I can replay over and over if the test comes back positive. I trust Russell will discreetly erase it if not.
My husband holds my gaze in the mirror while I lift the test, his chest puffing out against my back with a ragged inhale. In slow motion, I flip the test over, and we both look down. I’d drop to my knees if it weren’t for Russell holding me upright while I cry harder than I ever have in my life with my hand clapped over my mouth, trying to contain my sobs.
“I’m going to be a mom,” I say, choking on my emotions when Russell spins me around, crushing me as tight to his chest as I do the test to mine. “We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a mom. I’m going to be a mom.” I can’t stop saying it, even as I show him the test with its digital PREGNANT readout since I’m not sure he can see it clearly with tears streaming down his face.
“We’re having a baby,” he says, lifting me so we’re eye levelwith each other.
I hike my knees up to wrap my legs around him, cupping his face and pressing my lips to his. “A baby, Russell. We’re really having a baby.”
He nods, carrying me into our bedroom and laying me down beneath him in the middle of our bed. He pushes my nightgown up, gently dropping his forehead just above my belly button to kiss my lower abdomen with his hands splayed wide over me. “I love you,” he whispers. “I already love you as much as I do your sweet mama.”
