She gives me an impatient look then retorts, “Are we going somewhere?”
“We are.”
She continues to stare at me, so I go back to checking my own suitcase then close it, setting it on the floor next to hers. “Are you going to give me any information?”
“No.”
“But how will I know what to pack?”
I point to the two suitcases at the end of the bed. “Already done, just need to add toiletries.”
She gives me a suspicious look. “And what about the kids?”
“That is being handled.”
She continues to give me a suspicious look so I smile my most charming grin, to which she narrows her eyes even more. After a short standoff I state, “You’ll see, babe. I got it all handled.”
She sighs and then shrugs as she turns, walks toward the door. “Just tell me where to be when. I’m game.”
No pressure. No pressure at all.
The next day,we land in Los Angeles just before lunch. I knew Declan was going to send a car for us, but to my surprise I find he sent two, a town car and a giant Mercedes stretch limo.
Before I can deplane, the pilot comes out, a grin on his face. “Dec said to send the kids out first.”
“What are you talking about?’ Cassidy responds. We both bend to look out the small window, and I laugh to find Clementina, Issa and Carolina standing next to the limo. Issa waves her fingers at us and I shake my head then turn to Cassidy who’s muttering to herself. Then she looks at me and says, “We’ve been bamboozled.”
“Have we?” I respond, my hand moving to the back of her head as I lean in, press a kiss just below her ear. “Or have we been blessed?”
Pulling away she gives me a sly look. “Rennick Logan-Rafferty, what have you done?”
I give her a sly look of my own as I respond, “Just my duty as your husband and biggest fan.”
She smiles just as the plane door thuds open, and “come along my babies” sounds from the bottom of the stairs. Again, I peer out the window to see Clementina waiting excitedly, but now, Flora, Carolina’s oldest, is standing beside her, appearing equally as excited. The door to the limo opens, loud thumping music flowing from the back as Mickey sticks her head out and yells, “Let’s get this show on the road,” before disappearing back inside, the door slamming in her wake.
“I guess it was a good thing we left Petal at home with Sabrina,” I murmur and Cassidy turns to me with squinted eyes and retorts, “Stop calling her that.”
I grin, not at all repentant for the silly nickname I gave our youngest daughter. “She definitely would’ve put a damper on the giant limo party with her nap times and constant bathroom breaks.”
Cassidy nudges me and asks, “How many people does that thing hold?”
“I don’t know,” I respond, still staring out the window in amazement as I watch our kids scurry down the stairs without even a backward glance. “Maybe sixteen or so.”
“They’re not even going to say goodbye to us?”
“Do you want me to stop them?” I ask, already turning toward the door, but Cassidy’s hand on my arms stops me as she hisses, “Don’t you dare draw attention to yourself.”
I choke on a laugh, a bit surprised by her vehement response, but understanding exactly what she means. It’s not often youcan pass your kids off to people you truly trust. And to be able to do so for a full twenty-four hours is like hitting the parenting jackpot.
We watch from the window as all the kids grab their suitcases, then either carry or drag them to the waiting limo. Clementina wrangles everyone like the professional she is, standing in the open door of the vehicle and obviously taking a headcount. Then, she smiles and turns back to us, gives us a thumbs up before climbing in and closing the door.
“Is that it?” Cassidy whispers as we watch the limo departing. “Are we free?”
I laugh then tease, “Words said with the hope of tired mothers everywhere.”
She gathers her things, grins at me. “You know firsthand we can love another person with every fiber of our being while also needing a real break from the sound of their voice.”
“But not me,” I state with a grin of my own. “Right?”
