Tad steps forward and gives his dark suit a tug at the lapels. “That would be me,” he corrects. “I had this suit custom made in Italy with gold threading.” He opens his jacket as if inviting us to inspect the gold-threaded evidence. “Ask me how much I paid for it!” His voice hikes a notch with his enthusiasm.
“I’m afraid to.”
Marshall gives my shoulder a bump with his. “Come now, Skyla, you must be curious in the least.”
“No, I’m frightened. Whatever it was it was too much. They sell perfectly good suits right here on the island.”
My mother is quick to refute the idea with a shake of her head. “No, they don’t, Skyla. To get a tailored suit like that he’d have to travel all the way to Seattle.”
“I see. So, opting to have it shipped from Italy was the more economical decision. Well done,” I say just as another hard contraction decides to do a takedown of my better senses. I grab onto Marshall’s hand again, and to my horror there’s nothing.
Crap.
I glance down, making sure I haven’t latched onto Tad’s by mistake, but I haven’t.
“Oh God,” I moan. Now we’ve done it. That entire conversation tipped my mean Celestial mother off. And whyisshe so mean? She certainly has the power to spare me of this nightmare.
Marshall offers an angry look to the sky.Let me see what I can do.
He bows toward my mother—Lizbeth, the one who would scream her head off with excitement if she knew I was in active labor.
“If you will all excuse me”—Marshall takes a quick breath—“I’ll be back soon. Lizbeth, your party-planning techniques are flawless. I must utilize you again.”
Mom chortles while waving at him dismissively. “The pleasure was all mine.” She bounces her brows my way. “That man is not hard to look at.” Her voice is low and sultry, and as much as I want to make an internal quip at my mother’s inability to control herself around handsome men, her behavior is helping me deviate from the pain.
I try to casually breathe my way through it. God knows the one person I cannot tip off to the fact I’m in labor is my mother. She’ll clear a space right here on the ground and have me naked, spread eagle andpushingjust to get her grubby hands on my baby.
Tad threads his arm through hers. “Do you know who else isn’t hard to look at?Me.” He digs his thumb into his chest, that look of unmitigated pride taking over his features. He grins and his gold teeth catch the light.
I nod over to him. “I can assure you, Tad, people are looking.”
Mom leans in my way while her gaze hooks onto something behind me. “You know who else isn’t hard to look at? Demetri. Have you seen him tonight?”
“Mom.” I hitch my head toward Tad, but in all honesty, he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment inspecting the inside seam of his suit.
“It’s true, Skyla. Look at him.” She spins me around, and, my God, it’s like turning a cruise ship. “He’s right over there with those women.”
I grunt when I spot them, “I have news for you, Mother. Those women are after your man. That’s Dominique Winters and Marlena Bishop.”
It’s hard to believe it was just last year that I almost sliced Dominique’s head off for killing Gage. And here we are, just months later, and I’m suddenly moved to pen her a thank you.
Who knew I was trapped in a loveless marriage?
Wait, that’s not right. I loved Gage. He didn’t love me. He couldn’t have felt the things I was feeling and then shoved me to the side for Chloe—not to mention how lousy he treats me every chance he gets. It turns out, Gage Oliver is a real asshole. The question is, how could my asshole radar have been so far off base?
Mom dislodges herself from Tad so fast he ends up spinning off like a top while my mother navigates us to the edge of the patio to better spy on the man of her lustful dreams.
“You don’t think he’s interested in them, do you?”
“Oh, who cares.” I’m so tense from the fear of my stomach knotting up again—over the thought of my sweet baby girl dropping from between my legs in some umbilical cord bungee plunge maneuver, the last thing I want to think about is how adorable Demetri is—or God forbid, who might want to bed him.
Brielle pops over wearing leggings with holographic scales drawn over them and a bright red bustier that she’s bursting right out of. She’s donned a long, red wig, and she happens to be holding a trident.
“Boo!” she shouts right in my face, and my mother pulls her aside, nearly depositing her in a planter. “Skyla, Emily wants to see you.”
Mom pushes her aside once again. “Not now, Brielle. We’re busy.”
I pull her right back and land her next to me. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?” I’m not too concerned about Em. I’m staying as far away from her and her Crayolas as I can tonight. I’ll take my future the way everyone else takes it—one big rotten surprise.
