by JJ Knight
I pause, glancing back at him. He’s miles away, staring up at the towering hotel buildings.
“I’m not. No— We—” He’s obviously getting interrupted.
He notices me and motions for us to start walking again. I’m relieved, because I haven’t paid near enough attention, and I have no idea which of these massive structures is ours.
His steps become long, trudging movements through the sand. “Baker, this isn’t just about you. There’s Devenough and Schmidt. The Mercers. The board is not going to be on your side.”
I hurry to keep up with him. Rebel fusses in protest, and I hug him carefully to my chest to keep him from getting tossed from side to side.
Donovan stops again. “Saint-Tropez,” he says, and I realize he’s talking about us, right now. Then, “Tomorrow.”
I wait beside him. He glances over at me, his face hard. “Fine. Tonight. Set it up.”
Does he mean he has to be somewhere tonight? My belly quakes.
He jams his finger on his phone and resumes walking. “I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay?” I fail to keep the shake out of my voice.
“We’re going to have to drive to Milan in a few hours. Let’s get the baby good and settled so we can make the trip.”
I’m relieved I’m not being ditched in Saint-Tropez. “What’s happening?”
“A three-hundred-million-dollar deal is about to collapse over one greedy director on the board.” He presses his hand to my back to turn me up toward a back gate to a lavish pool area behind one of the hotels. I realize with a sigh that it is ours.
“What are you going to do?”
“Get to Milan.” He digs out his key card and passes it over the gate lock so we can enter the resort. “I was afraid this might happen.”
“Can you save the deal?”
“Maybe.”
His face is tight as we walk the sidewalk around the pools and under the veranda. It’s blissful relief to be out of the sun.
We’re quiet as we take the elevator up to the room. Donovan punches messages madly on his phone. Our idyllic getaway is coming to a close, I can feel it.
When we’re in the room, Donovan immediately sets up his laptop. Rebel continues to fuss, so I take him to the bedroom to strip him down. I’m a hot mess too, so I settle on a cool bath with him in my arms, the water low enough that I can nurse him while we both rinse away the grit.
I think Donovan will come talk to me before we’re done, but despite my lingering in the water until we’re both chilly, then dressing myself and the baby and putting him into the seat, Donovan remains at his computer.
I return to pump and prepare for the journey. There’s a ton of sand collected in the crevices of the bag. I’m feeling sentimental, so I dry out one of Rebel’s spare bottles and scoop the sand into it, dropping the shell inside a well. It’s my own piece of Saint-Tropez to take home.
I pack all of the baby’s things and set the bags in the living room. “Should I pack our bags as well?”
He glances up. “Let me shower quickly. I’m sorry I suddenly dropped you. You’re probably starving.”
“I can order some food.”
He nods. “You do that.” He closes the computer. “I’ve got everything arranged.”
That doesn’t sound good. “What’s arranged?”
“Your flight back. I’m going to be stuck in Milan for days.”
My belly quakes again. “I’m flying back alone?”
“No. I got hold of Sunny. She’s at the castle. She’s going to grab a train to Milan and fly back with you. The plane’s on its way.”
“Oh. Arianna and Grace are already back?” I don’t know Sunny that well.
“Yes, they landed in New York yesterday.” He finally notices my distress and crosses the room. “Havannah, I’m so sorry this is ending so abruptly. I knew it was a risk after things started to fall through last week. But I wanted to do it. I thought it would hold off.”
He lifts my chin with his finger. “I’ll swing through Boulder when I get back to the States. Will that be okay?”
I have trouble swallowing, but I nod. Tears are welling up and I have to fight them down. “It’s been great.”
“It has.” He leans forward to press a gentle kiss on my mouth. He smells of salty air. His beard is gritty. He must feel it, because he pulls back and laughs. “Even my kisses have gotten salty.”
“Go shower. I’ll get food.”
He nods and heads to the bedroom.
I check on Rebel, who snoozes in the fancy chair. Then I pick up the room service menu. Time to end the fantasy and get back to reality.
26
Donovan
The ride to Milan is long and quiet. I can sense Havannah’s disappointment in her quiet fortitude, the way she whispers to the baby but doesn’t often speak to me.
When we arrive at the hotel, I check us in quickly and text Sunny. She needs to arrive before I have to be at the meeting.
I change into my suit, angry at the late-afternoon time slot. This couldn’t have waited until tomorrow? At least I could have soothed Havannah, brought us down slowly with one last tender night. As it is, I’m not sure when I’ll get back to her.
I should have been more forceful with Baker. But this situation is a clusterfuck. If I fail here, six more holdings will fall like dominoes. This deal is the first link in a chain.
I stare in the mirror as I yank on the tie. This is utter bullshit.
Havannah comes up behind me. “Let me.” I turn to her, my anger dropping a notch as she calmly makes the knot. She slides her hands along my shoulders. “I love this suit,” she says. “You’re going to set it all right.”
I draw her to me. “This is the last thing I want to be doing.”
“I know.”
We stand there a long moment, until my phone buzzes. It’s Sunny. We’ve barely made it.
“I’ll come down with you.” I have to go anyway. I shrug on my suit coat.
Havannah moves the baby from his car seat to the sling. The porter knocks on the door, thankfully right on time. I pull my last two bags off the cart so he can take all of Havannah’s things right back down.
“Text me the moment you land,” I say when we’re safely in the elevator. “Sunny is hilarious. You got to meet her, right?”
“I did.” She nods. “And Bianca will be with us, right?”
“Absolutely,” I assure her. “You will go straight to the municipal airport in Boulder. Sunny will return to New York after.”
“You sure? I’m okay with just Bianca.”
“Sunny doesn’t mind.”
The doors slide open. I step out, pulling on Havannah’s hand. God, I hate this rush. I spot Sunny on a sofa in the lobby, her dark hair tied into a knot on her head. She stands when she sees us, her long skirt falling to her ankles. “Donovan! Havannah!” She waves merrily.
I pause with Havannah and turn her to face me. “I will talk to you the moment you land, okay?”
She nods. I kiss her again, trying to push away the sounds of the lobby, the proximity of Sunny and the porter, and the urgent need to get to the meeting.
But all these things intrude, and I pull away wishing I could say goodbye to her in some more intimate way.
“Knock ’em dead,” Havannah says. “See you on the other side.”
“I had my car wait,” Sunny says. “It’s outside.”
Then they are off, their chatter fading into the noise of the lobby, the porter trailing behind them.
I check my watch and hurry to the side door, where the car that brought us here will be waiting for me.
Only when I’m in the back seat, zooming through the Italian traffic crisscrossed with mopeds, do I pick up my phone and start to make a real plan to salvage this business deal. I have half an hour to get there, and I must put Havannah from my mind.
It’s back to the real world.
27
Havannah
Everything’s a whirl after leaving the hotel.
The driver doesn’t understand how to get to the private airfield, and neither Sunny nor I speak any Italian—not that we could have explained. It’s new to both of us.
After an hour of circling, Simon, the pilot, has to meet us in one of the terminal parking lots to show him where to go. He has to file a new amended flight plan, but at least we get to load onto the plane.
Bianca is there and ready for us. “What an ordeal!” she says, reaching for the baby.
I’m more than relieved to give him over, as my stress has caused him to go into a cranky crying jag. I’m not feeling great, moody over the sudden ending to my vacation, hot from a sunburn, and weary of traveling now that the high of being with Donovan has crashed into a low.
Bianca gets the baby settled and suggests I pump so she can make some strong margaritas to get us through. I agree completely and hide in the quiet darkness of the back bedroom, filling bottles Bianca can use to help me out as we fly back over the ocean.
I’m suddenly exhausted and nod off several times while the cones suck the milk out of me. Then it’s done, and the bottles are in the fridge and the pump parts rinsed. Sunny holds out a colored glass with a tiny straw and I’m back in paradise.
Starr pops out of the cockpit. “We got the all-clear!” She gives me a wave. “You got some sun, Mama!”
I nod and hold my drink aloft.
The baby is well enough asleep that Bianca is able to strap him into his car seat. Sunny and I buckle into the leather chairs I sat in with Donovan at the beginning of the first trip, and finally, we’re taxiing down the runway toward home.
Sunny sips her drink and gestures toward Rebel. “He’s adorable. I remember when my nephew Caden was that age. So precious.”
“He was the cutest ring bearer,” I say. “And how fun your grandmother got to be a flower granny.”
“Right! When Max told me they were doing that, I about smashed my bananas. But she was great.” Sunny tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her messy bun has gotten loose during our rushing around. She’s beautiful in a bright, fun-loving way, like some of my college girlfriends. We’re probably about the same age.
“Smashed your bananas?” I’ve never heard that expression.
Sunny laughs. “I’m the queen of remixed metaphors. I’ll try to tone it down. Don’t want to drive you up the canary.”
Now I have to laugh. Donovan was right. She’s a hoot. “Do you get this skill from your family?”
“Not the Pickle side,” she says. “Dad stayed a Packwood. It was Sherman who had to change everyone’s names.”
“It’s funny, though,” I say.
“It is.”
I realize we’re airborne, and Rebel has slept through it again. Must be the rumble of the engine. I sink back into the chair. “Well, that was a wild rush.”
“I hear you. I was about to head to the train station for the commercial flight when Donovan called.” She runs her hands along the supple arm of the chair. “But you want me to ride in your private jet instead? Don’t mind if I do.”
I guess she is getting a nice ride. I set aside my guilt. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” She takes a long pull of the drink. “This is the life.”
We’re quiet a moment. Rebel squeaks in his sleep.
“That was the most adorable thing,” she says. “I think my ovaries just howled at the moon.”
I accidentally snort my sip of margarita and lean forward to sputter through my laugh.
Sunny smacks my back. “Your booze have a bone in it?”
I hold up my hand. “You’re too funny. It’s going to kill me.”
“I’ll dial it down.”
I press my hand to my chest, cough-laughing for a moment until I manage to pull myself together. “Not on my account.”
“Don’t want to wake the baby.”
Now that’s true.
“How long have you known Donovan?” Sunny asks.
“He came in June with Dell to give me and my sister lessons on owning a business.”
“That’s right. You own a deli too. Tasty Pepper, right?”
“My grandparents started that one. Magnolia and I opened the Tasty Mango.”
Now it’s her turn to snort-laugh. “Tasty? Mango? Was that the milk boobs talking?”
Now we’re both dissolving into laughter again.
I can barely talk. “I…think…Bianca…made these drinks strong.”
Sunny ponders the dregs of her glass. “I think you’re right.” She sucks on the straw until it makes a terrible slurping noise. She brings on her best Thor voice. “Another!”
And we’re off and giggling again. I realize my glass is also empty. Bianca bustles into the room and sweeps away the empties, leaving two cups of water. “I’ve got some lightweights on board,” she says. “How about you both hydrate before round two?”
Sunny nods. “You’re way more smartical than me.”
We sip our waters, the laughter finally ebbing. The plane levels out, and Starr comes out to tell us we can walk around if we like.
Sunny moves next to the baby, sweeping her hand across his head. “Such a sweetie. I guess things didn’t work out with his dad?”
There is it. “No,” I say. “They didn’t.”
She nods. “I haven’t dated anyone in forever.”
“How come?”
Sunny shrugs. “Nobody worth it.”
“I went on a bad run up until Donovan myself.”
“Including this one’s dad, I take it.”
I nod and sip my water. I’m feeling sober.
She returns to the seat. “So you got pregnant about a year ago. You talk to this guy?”
I shake my head. “He was more of a one-night deal.”
“Oh.” She picks up her cup, frowns at the water, and sets it down again. “Greta and Jude had words at their first sonogram.”
“Really?”
“Oh, they gave the due date for Caden. Then the doctor said he was conceived on such and such date. But Jude had been on a trip that week.”
My face suddenly goes hot. “What?”
“Yeah. Jude’s a tender guy and Greta’s a card. He wasn’t accusing her of anything, but he got all bent out of shape.”
“What happened? Were they wrong?”
“Oh sure. Turns out when they give you those dates, it’s based on how long your cycle is. It can be, like, a week off.”
“A week?” My voice is barely a squeak. Why didn’t my doctor say this? Probably because I didn’t mention it was important. I was so terrified at every visit.
“Sure. If you have a long cycle, you have to scoot forward a few days because you got pregnant later than you think. If you have a short one, you scoot the date back. Mother Nature likes to keep us on our bunions.”
I ignore the joke, dead sober. My cycles are always long. It’s been the bane of my adult life, waiting for my period during iffy months, although it’s often nice for them to be farther apart. Because of this, Magnolia and I have never synced up like many roommates do. She’s a strict twenty-eight-dayer.
I don’t remember the dates anymore, but I do remember it seemed like Jesse was the only one in range. But if I have to add ten days for a thirty-eight-day cycle, then it could have been one of the other two.
The light dawns. Maybe Rebel’s father isn’t the home-wrecking psychopath after all.
I glance over at Sunny, but she’s crashed, her head on her shoulder. I unbuckle and pace the small room, thinking.
Who were the others? Did I write their names down? Surely. The trail was cold, but I think I knew at the time. I was so sure it was Jesse that I didn’t pursue the others.
I remember the app where I met them. They might still be on it. I snatch my phone out of the diaper bag sitting next to Rebel. I power it up, then realize I’m in the air so it can’t connect. This will have to wait.
But when I get to Boulder, it’s time to reassess my situation completely.
28
Donovan
It’s four in the morning Milan time when I get the text from Havannah that they have landed in Boulder.
I’ve only been back to the hotel an hour. The meetings ran all night. It’s late evening in New York, and I’ve been on the phone with Dell, trying to figure out how to salvage this deal. I tell him I’ll call him back in a minute.
Havannah sounds tired. “Hey,” she says, and the tone is so familiar that my chest pangs with missing her. We’ve been together every hour for almost a week. I feel her absence.
“You have a ride home?” I ask.
“We haven’t unloaded yet. I’ll call a car or something. It’s no big deal.”
I hate that it’s not easy for me to arrange things for her. She’s no longer in my world.
“Did the meetings go okay?” she asks.
“Long.”
“God, it has to be almost morning there. You must be tired.”
I stand by the window, staring out onto the quiet streets of Milan. “I’m all right. But you, it’s a long flight. How was Sunny?”
“Hilarious. I love her.”
“Everyone does. Did the baby manage okay?”
“Bianca took care of him mostly. She plied us with terribly strong margaritas to steal all the turns holding him.”
I pull the sliding door and step onto the balcony. The air is heavy with humidity. “She never gives me strong margaritas.”
“Perhaps you should pop a child from your nether regions, and she’ll show you the same favor.”
The rumble of my laugh is a nice feeling after a long and terrible night. I wish I could have kept her here, but the talks will resume in a few hours, and I would have had zero time to spend with her and no end in sight.
“I miss you,” I say, even though it seems too familiar, too tender. I want her to know.
“I miss you too,” she says. “The whole trip already seems like a dream.”
“I feel the same.”
We’re quiet a moment, then she says, “Oh! I think we’re unloading! I need to call a car. Please let me know how things go. I’ll probably end up sleeping for a week.”