He glanced around the room, his attention on other objects, as we shared a silent moment that said so much. He did know me. He was this buttoned up, sophisticated guy, and I was a walking disaster, but somehow we fit together and we fit better than I ever thought two people could.
I think we both drew some sort of comfort in identifying the rightness that came from finding each other. We really were an odd suited couple, but his rigidness was the perfect match for my scribble scrabble chaotic squish of a personality. His sharp edges didn’t bother me. And my lunacy didn’t seem to bother him.
“Open it.” He pressed the gift into my hands.
Accepting the bag, I parted the tissue paper and laughed. “Yes, you definitely know me.” I lifted out a pair of flip-flops and rose to kiss him.
His lips were soft and his body warm and comforting. I wished I could fall into his hold and hide for the rest of the night.
“There’s more.”
Feeling the bag was still weighted, I dug deeper and this time, I really laughed. “You got me tequila!”
It was one of those little airport bottles, but it would definitely come in handy. I stuffed the bottle in my bra and gave him a shoulder bump. “Thank you.”
“You did a really nice job with the party, baby. Phina loves everything, especially the silent auction.”
“I’m glad.”
Once again I recognized the strong affection he held for his siblings. It was no wonder he couldn’t bare the thought of losing one. They were, after all, half siblings at best, Remington being the one link in their relationship. This baby was no different and Hale would always protect his siblings.
“It’s okay to take credit, Rayne.”
Flushing, I smiled. “This is your father’s thing.”
“No. This is all you. You did great.”
My nerves settled and I blew out a breath, finally feeling some of my confidence slip back into place. “I think I’m ready to go back out there now.” Slipping on my flip-flops, I stuck my pumps in the bag and tucked it away on Remington’s shelf.
Once I had something in my stomach, everything started to flow. The guests were happy. Seraphina was happy. Remington was happy. And all of that made me happy.
The seas were calm and the sunset was one for postcards. I couldn’t have asked for a better night. As each hour passed and my plans played out, my pride warmed a bit more. Just as I started to relax and truly enjoy all that I’d created, Hale was pulled away.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, plugging his finger in his ear and holding his phone to the other one.
Cake was being served and all the guests gathered around the railings to sing as Phina blew out her candles on the main deck. Seeing how cheerful she was made all the stress worth it. One hour to go and it would all be over.
Hale returned and I could see he was irritated. “What’s the matter?”
“Jasmine’s having something called Braxton-Hicks. She saw the obstetrician this afternoon and they said it’s normal, but she’s in a lot of pain.”
“What’s Braxton-Hicks?”
“False contractions.”
I frowned. What the fuck was a false contraction? The only thing I knew about childbirth was that it hurt. How could a contraction be false? That was like calling a cramp fake. They all hurt. A contraction was a contraction. This had to be a phrase a man lacking a uterus coined.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. I told her to call me if they get worse.”
But we were on a boat. We were forty-five minutes away from port and I was one cocktail away from feeling good and there were two whole weeks until the due date.
Okay, calling the contractions false sort of helped. Kind of like a false alarm situation. That was why the contractions didn’t count.
Appearing out of nowhere, Barrett slung an arm over my shoulder. “You did good, Rayne. Great party.”
Jesus, I couldn’t breathe when he touched me. It was like being dunked in a tank full of testosterone—too many pheromones and what not.
I shouldered out of his hold and answered with little inflection, my mind still worrying over the phony labor pains. “Thanks.”
Barrett looked at his brother and back to me. “You guys okay?”
Apparently Hale wasn’t buying the whole false contraction thing either. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to go check in with Wyatt and see what our schedule looks like.”
Reading his concern, I nodded, wishing I could say more, but still unsure how much his brother knew. “Okay.”
He left me with Barrett. Great.
His brother smiled. “Dance?”
I shook my head, staring at the door Hale disappeared through, my mind a bit preoccupied. “I only dance to Thriller.”
His grin doubled. “We can arrange that.”
Distracted, I looked at him and frowned. “What? No.”
“Oh, have a little fun, Meyers.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the main deck where the speakers were pumping. He left me in a herd of young, gyrating people and went to say something to the DJ. The DJ typed on his computer and handed Barrett a microphone and then the recognizable intro echoed.
I was going to kill him.
“You all having a good time?” Barrett’s voice rumbled through the speakers. Everyone cheered.
Dead. He was fucking dead.
“I wanted to wish my beautiful sister a happy birthday and thank my dad for hosting such a fun night.” More cheers. “But I also want to thank the woman behind the scenes who organized this bash.”
World, swallow me now.
I dug the tequila out of my bra, cracked the seal, and guzzled it down.
“That’s Rayne.” He pointed.
I hid the empty bottle in my palm and gasped as the liquor burned the hell out of my esophagus.
“I think she’s worked hard enough and it’s time for her to join the party. What do you say we start her off with a toast and a dance?” He lifted his glass. “To Rayne, party planner extraordinaire.”
Everyone raised his or her drinks and cheered. I shyly waved my empty bottle and wondered how long it would take me to find bullets and a gun. I’d need a shovel too.
“Come on,” he yelled, tugging me onto the dance floor.
Seraphina ran over and gave me another bear hug as one of her friends handed me a cocktail. Everyone spoke at once, and I stared, unblinking, as they crowded around me. Where was Hale?
“Drink up!” someone called and I tipped back the glass, taking a fast train to Drunksville.
“Party’s awesome!”
“Love how you transformed the yacht!”
“I can’t believe Lola Judd is here!”
“Do you do other parties?”
“I’d love to hire you for my wedding!”
“Do you have a card?”
The enthusiastic comments and questions came too fast to answer as the music got louder and the alcohol hit my system like a heat seeking missile. Suddenly, all I heard was Michael Jackson screaming, ‘Cause this is Thriller!
Okay—side bar—when we were in high school we thought it would be fun to learn the Thriller dance. But no one tells you the song will then be like an incurable disease, something you can’t ignore whenever it plays. It’s a song that just has to be danced to. These are the laws of pop culture. If you know Thriller, you dance. There is no choice. It’s just a freak impulse, a reflex, like a seizure on a dance floor to a badass song that makes it okay to pretend you’re a zombie.
So I handed off my cup, threw up my arms and got my crypt walk on. Thankfully, other guests had also been infected, because they jumped right in, lurching and sliding, and clapping and laughing.
I sort of led the show and dominated the lineup, because no one loved Thriller as much as me. And once we were all synchronized and waving our hands to the beat, I forgot why I didn’t want to dance in the first place. I was a rhythmic motherfucker.
Owning the dance floor like Jenni
fer Beils in Flashdance, I gave them the best show since Johnny and Baby lit it up at Kellermen’s.
I. Was. On. Fire. But I was also rapidly approaching drunk, so there was a teeny tiny chance I looked like I was having an epileptic seizure. The beauty of alcohol was I no longer cared.
The song closed and everyone cheered. Stage fright compensated by booze, I howled and bounced as another drink miraculously landed in my hands. “Play Footloose!”
The crowd parted and my excitement faltered as my gaze fell on Hale. Realizing something was wrong I took a hearty sip—so not to spill—and stumbled over to him.
“Y’all right?” Fuck. There went that fine line between okay and plastered. I was way past that line. Again.
“We’ll be back to the marina in about thirty minutes. I have to take Jasmine to the ER.”
My brow creased. “Did something else happen?”
“The contractions are getting worse and I want a second opinion. She’s alone at the hotel, so as soon as we get back I have to go.”
Fuck. Why did I drink so much? “Is she having the baby?”
I saw the panic in his eyes, the possibility not an improbable one if her contractions were getting closer. Holy crap, Hale might have a child by morning. A person. A little human who needed him to be responsible all the time no matter what.
Holy fuck, he was having a person!
Yet he kept his remarkable calm—sort of. “I won’t know anything until we see a doctor.”
Okay, that was enough bullshit. I leaned close and whispered, “How are you so calm?”
He pursed his lips. “I have to talk to Barrett and Phina.”
My jaw unhinged. I knew it. I fucking knew it. “They don’t know, do they?”
At least he looked a little guilty. “I didn’t know how to tell them.”
I pulled him aside where less people were standing. “Will you tell them…everything?”
He met my gaze and let out a slow breath. “No. This is my baby.” Worry lines formed beneath his hairline, as his eyes were a tad unsure. He met my stare, face blank, and rasped, “I’m having a baby.”
Well, duh. Did he think he was decorating rooms for the fun of it? His skin actually wore a sheen of sweat I knew had nothing to do with the heat. He suddenly looked so…human.
“Are you okay?” I shouted, as the music got louder.
“I’m having a baby,” he repeated, face trapped in some sort of shock paralysis.
I touched his shoulder. “Hale?” I never saw him look so uncertain, not even when we were at the baby store. It was a little scary.
“Fuck,” he snapped, running his fingers through his hair and leaving it standing on end. “I’m having a baby!”
Thank God this wasn’t like the movies when statements like that send the record skidding and plunge the world into silence. No one appeared to hear his outburst but me. Still, that was not the sort of shit to go shouting in mixed company before the proper authorities had been notified.
I took his hand and pulled him inside, but people were lingering there too. I walked him down the hall and up the steps until we were in the little server. Shutting the door, I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Breathe.”
He let out a gusty breath. “I’m having a baby.”
“You can handle this, Hale.” Was I the grown up here? That didn’t seem right.
“What if she’s early? What if the baby comes tonight?”
Yeah, he was not ready. All that decorating hadn’t made a dent in his avoidance. But I was a pro at being stuck in situations I hadn’t prepared for, so I gave him the best advice I could—much like Elle usually did for me.
“Look, if the baby comes tonight, then she gets to share a birthday with her aunt. That’s cool. They’ll be birthday buddies. But this might be nothing. Maybe that Braxton Hicks guy just has Jasmine in a bit of a headlock right now and tomorrow everything will be back to normal.” Right? False alarms and whatnot. “But you might want to start thinking about a name.”
“Jesus Christ! I don’t have a name!”
My eyes went wide. I was not used to seeing him frazzled. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, I have to drive.”
“Do you want me to get your dad?”
He scowled. “Fuck, no.”
“Okay. Relax.” I held up my hands. I needed to relax too. Think, Rayne. Think! “How about Barrett?”
Hale nodded. I was amused to see that he also sweated when he was nervous.
“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
Speed walking out to the deck I was relieved to find Barrett still on the dance floor. Shouldering my way through all the women orbiting around him, I yelled, “Barrett, I need you for a minute.”
His lashes lowered as he gave a gratified smirk and arched a brow. “It’ll take longer than a minute, Meyers. We Davenports don’t believe in doing anything half ass.”
Good God, the man never stopped. “For the love of fuck,” I muttered, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from the dance floor. “Just come with me and calm your balls.”
“Where are we going?”
I led him toward the server and he chuckled when I gestured for him to enter.
He eyed me from head to toe, way too much implication in his expression. “I can work my way around a tight space.”
As much as I was trying to regroup and locate my big girl panties, I needed to call a time out and address this game he was playing. “You do realize I’m with your brother.”
“Davenport men are like potato chips, you can’t just have—”
“Stop.” I held up a hand because I simply couldn’t take anymore. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that because I know you’ve had a lot to drink and all these women have you raring to go, but I want to make this clear. Your brother and I…” How to put it? “We…” Great. Now I was sweating. “Hale’s very important to me and I’d never—ever—do anything to hurt him.”
Barrett dropped the smolder and tipped his head, a genuine smile curving his lips. “You’re in love with him.”
Wait, what? I frowned. “Am not.”
He chuckled, and though I never had a brother, something told me that look I was getting was full of brotherly affection.
“For the record, I’d never poach from Hale. I was just testing you.” He patted my shoulder, not like the manwhore he’d been acting like since we met, but like a friend. “You passed with flying colors.”
Letting out a breath I sighed in relief. Then I shoved him. “Jerk.” Thank God he hadn’t been seriously flirting with me. “I should punch you in the throat for messing with me, but there isn’t time. Hale’s having a bit of a conniption.”
Barrett flipped a switch fast, showing a serious side of him I didn’t know he possessed. All signs of jovial flirt disappeared as that Davenport authority kicked into overdrive.
“Where is he?”
“In the server.” I barely had the sentence out before he was opening the pocket door.
I followed him quickly inside. Barrett was asking what was wrong before I even closed the door to the cramped room. Hale paced and—Wow, there was a lot of testosterone in here.
Rather than answering his brother, Hale looked at me and asked, “What do you think of the name Julia? Or how about Grace? Do girls still go by traditional names? Or do you like something more original?”
“What’s going on?” Barrett asked, totally confused.
Hale stilled and caught his breath but said nothing. Not a word. He looked at his brother and…nada.
I cleared my throat. “Okay.” Damn my palms were clammy. “Barrett…Hale is having a baby. Possibly tonight.” There. That was easy and could have been done months ago.
Barrett chuckled, but when Hale looked at him, eyes alarmingly wide, his laughter faded. Barrett’s gaze snapped to me, dropped to my stomach, and then shot back to Hale.
“What’s that now?”
“A girl. I’m having a girl and I don’t have
a fucking name.”
Barrett laughed again, this time slow and slightly nervous. “Okay, what the hell are you talking about?”
I looked back at Hale because this part was all him. If he honestly planned on keeping Remington’s involvement from his siblings he was going to have to start practicing his speech now.
The panic in his eyes slowly banked and something shifted in him as he regained his composure. It was truly amazing to see him transform back into a mature, capable man, so beyond any talent I personally possessed. Adulting would never cease impressing me.
Swallowing, he straightened his shoulders and looked his brother in the eye. Voice steady, he said, “I’m going to be a father.”
I smiled, knowing this was difficult but proud of how he owned it. The world needed more Hales.
“Seriously?” Barrett practically shrieked.
Hale simply nodded. “As soon as we dock I have to take the mother to the hospital, but she’s been having contractions all day, and she thinks it might be time.”
Barrett looked at me, eyes wide. “How do you play into all this?”
Holding up my hands, I quickly stepped back. “I don’t.” Then I looked at Hale and whispered, “But I think I’m in love with the baby’s father.”
Hale’s attention jerked to me as he stepped to my front, shoving his brother aside and cupping my face, he pressed his lips to mine and breathed as if every worry in the world just got a little lighter.
“Is that true?” he rasped.
Was it? The words just sort of fell out, but I nodded anyway.
His lips brushed mine again and he whispered, “I love you too.”
I flinched as the horn blared, signaling we were approaching the marina. I placed my hand over his and whispered, “You got this.”
He nodded and slowly released me. Barrett looked like he’d seen a ghost, but Hale was back in control.
“Let’s wait until we know anything, before we mention this to Phina. I don’t want to interrupt her night. I’ll text you when I get to the hospital, and hopefully everything will be fine, and I can tell her tomorrow when she’s sober.”
That was the Hale I knew! And yes, sober would be good. It was remarkable how lucid I felt after watching Hale lose it. Not an easy thing to picture when he’s always in such control of his emotions. But good to know he was human.
Calamity Rayne: Gets A Life Page 30