Declaration (28 page)

A few minutes later we were pulling up to Whitney’s bookshop. The cottage-style bookstore sat nestled around the corner from the lighthouse, the same store that had always been there, only now Whitney was the proud owner. When she wasn’t busy caring for Elizabeth, she was at this store. It was her second home, her pride and joy.

“Hey sweetheart, you ready?” I walked in to collect her for the airport, Elizabeth in hand. The door bells jingled and I surveyed the shop. It was closing time and thankfully empty, but Whitney looked far from ready to close. She was behind the counter, eating a croissant and thumbing through a stack of paperbacks, her hair pinned neatly in a soft bun, high on top of her head.

“
Mmm
,” she mumbled with a full mouth, flitting her fingers at me and keeping her eyes on the stack of books.

“We have fifteen minutes, Whit, or we’re going to miss our flight.”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, swallowing a big bite of croissant. “Sorry!” She slapped one the books closed and shoved the stack to the side of the register, moving to undo her bun. She let her long hair fall down in shiny waves and shook it out before grabbing her purse and rushing to meet us at the front door.

I was glued to the wood floors.

Whitney had always been beautiful. She’d always had that light, that life in her eyes that pulled me right in. But there was something about that dark, long mane of hers. When she wore it down, freed it from its updo, her glow intensified. Her whole body relaxed and her eyes would drift shut, as if savoring the release. It was such a small thing, but it turned me on like nothing else.

“Carter?” She was standing in front of me now, her expectant expression breaking me from a trance.

“Oh, yeah,” I muttered, leaning in to kiss her, “sorry.”

Her lips melted onto mine and left far too soon. She bent down to pick up Elizabeth. “Hey sweets, you ready to have some fun?”

“I guess so,” Elizabeth shrugged, her lips puckering into that pout that I loved so much. “Daddy said it will be like England.”

“Ha!” Whitney carefully set her down and began locking up the shop door. The sun was beginning to set, the lush surrounding palms swaying in the Gulf winds. They were always especially brisk and sharp during the winter. “Seattle’s not like England, silly girl. You know that. But your daddy’s right. We’re going to have lots of fun, just like we did in England.”

“Okay, I have to get you women moving, or that fun isn’t going to happen. Chop chop!” As soon as the shop door was locked, I took Whitney’s hand and hurried them both to the car.

I started for the airport, picking through my mental to-do list to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything as we pulled out onto the main highway. I’d taken care of everything, down to wrapping the last-minute gift for Jack and Emma’s son, Maddox, and arranging for Tony to check in on my studio while I was gone. It had replaced Joe, the truck that made my mobile music business possible. I wasn’t as mobile these days, but I was happy to have more space and a permanent place I could record my own music. All guitar lessons had been canceled for the next ten days, set to resume after the New Year. My younger students were disappointed, but they were little troopers. Even my adult students had voiced their disappointment, but they’d wished me a great holiday and it made me feel damn good.

As we approached the airport, the familiar excitement began to sink in. Visiting Seattle was still hard, even after all these years. I would always miss the Pacific Northwest, but Sanibel Island really had become my home. After Whitney and I got together, the place really grew on me. Then, when we became pregnant, I’d felt anchored there. So, we visited Seattle as often as we could, but now, whenever we flew home, I wasn’t bummed. I couldn’t wait to get back to my music studio, to our beach house, to Whitney’s shop, to the island where I’d found my family and myself, seven years ago.

I tugged at my lip ring as we pulled into the parking lot, thinking how lucky of a bastard I was to be in the same car with my favorite girls in the world. “Let’s do this, ladies,” I said, coming to a stop. We hustled inside and boarded our flight just in time, sleeping on the plane. It was crazy late when we touched down at SeaTac, but I was hit with a second wind, which made it easy to tackle the drive up to Anacortes.

Elizabeth was conked out in the backseat, and Whitney was passed out on my shoulder as I drove, half of her body pulled up over the console. I laughed to myself, eyeing the blankets draped over both of their bodies. My girls weren’t used to such cold weather in December. Not only were they wrapped in blankets, but they were bundled up in thick coats, like true Floridians braving the North. Even I felt the bite of the cold more than I used to.

I cranked up the heat, making sure they were warm and toasty, keeping the radio on low for the rest of the ride. Weezer whispered in the speakers, begging me to turn them up, but my sleeping beauties needed their rest. By the time we made it to Anacortes, it was too late to catch a ferry, so I rented a room in a nearby motel and we caught one of the first ferries out the next morning.

When we pulled up to Kate and Ryan’s place on Orcas Island, Kate’s voice rang out lovingly, making it feel like Christmas morning already.

“Oh my God, she got so big! Who is that rad little chick, huh?” She rushed up to Elizabeth the second we got out of the car and Ryan walked up to join her, closing me in a hug while his wife squeezed my daughter.

“Good to see you, man,” he said, grinning widely. He donned tan corduroys and a fitted black vest over a crisp, white shirt, the sleeves rolled loosely at the elbows. He was just as fit as he was back in his teaching days, the wanker. He hadn’t changed a bit. Still smooth, still charming, still madly in love with Kate Parker. “More tattoos? Why am I not surprised?”

I laughed, pulling at my coat. “Are they really that noticeable, beneath all these layers?”

“You’re a walking canvas now, man. I can see you coming from a mile away.” He chortled lightly, pushing up his sleeves. “Got some more ink myself since I saw you last.” He pointed to his biceps—all hard and chiseled, the bastard—and showed off two new grey sleeves.

“Nice. Sam, I take it?”

“Of course. Only the best.”

I knew from experience that was the truth. His friend Sam really did know her shit. She was one hell of a tattoo artist. She’d inked me and Ryan a few years ago, when Whitney and I had visited for Emma and Jackson’s anniversary. “Maybe we can get some work done this week. I think I have some room left somewhere.”

Ryan shook his head, laughing. “Just say when and I’m there. Sam’s on her way here, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” I perked up at the thought of seeing Sam, her wife Jess, and their daughter, Tori. Ryan hugged Whitney and took his turn kissing Elizabeth’s cheeks, although Kate was pretty reluctant to let her go.

“Come on, Kate,” I jabbed at her with my elbow, “let the girl breathe, will you?”

“Hey, I’m only the distant, cool aunt. I get to see the kid like twice a year. I’ll squeeze her all I want.”

“Fine. But can you squeeze her inside? It’s freezing.” I took Whitney’s hand and Ryan started leading us into the cabin.

“It’s official,” Kate said, carrying Elizabeth, “you’re no longer a Pacific Northwesterner. That Floridian blood has taken over.”

“Yeah, well, you spend ten months out of the year in 90-degree heat, and let’s see how your blood likes coming back to this.” I shivered from a blast of cool wind as she shut the door behind us. “Bloody hell! Please tell me you have a fire going.”

“I’m on it,” Ryan said, moving to the fireplace. Kate led Whitney and Elizabeth to the guest room. They wheeled suitcases behind them, chatting away, and I hauled ass over to the coffee pot for some much-needed warmth. Kate and Whitney had become close over the past few years, especially now that Emma had become chummy with Kate. Emma and Jackson had settled down just outside of the city. Once Emma had moved here for school and reunited with Jack, they never looked back. Hearing Whitney and Kate laugh like old friends was possibly one of the best sounds in the world.

As I topped off my coffee, the cabin filled with their laughter, the crackle of the fire, and Nirvana instead of Christmas tunes.

My kind of holiday.

“Can you get that, Carter?” Ryan called from the living room when there was a knock at the door. He was busy arranging gifts under the Christmas tree and rifling through gift bags stuffed with green tissue paper and fancy bows.

“Sure.” I answered the door, setting my coffee down before opening up.

“God save the queen!” Dean shouted, barreling through the doorway to tackle me. “Yip yip! Yes, yes, it’s good to see you, chap! More ink, I see. And you still haven’t gotten rid of that blasted lip ring. When will you learn, sir? Those are
so
ten years ago.” He swished his hand and ruffled my hair, effectively earning an eye roll from Crystal, who was right on his tail. A big, gaudy rock sparkled on her left ring finger.

“Glad to hear you guys set a date,” I said, wiggling out of Dean’s hug to kiss Crystal on the cheek. They’d had one of the longest engagements in history and were off and on for quite a while, but Dean had filled me in recently that they had finally put wedding plans in motion.

“You know Dean,” Crystal said, handing me a stash of gift bags, “he wouldn’t rest until I booked the venue. I don’t know what the rush was about.” She laughed. “We’ve waited this long, and now all of a sudden, he’s frantic.” Visions of Kerouac’s Dean Moriarty flashed in my mind, a character Dean often reminded me of. He was a man from another time, a streak of the Beat Generation running hot in his blood. Feverish and mad, with a wild spirit that made my head spin.

“Yeah, I know him, alright.”

Dean strode past me, leaving me standing there with an armful of gifts. I sighed and kicked the door shut with my foot, following him and Crystal into the living room, where Dean was already messing with the gifts that Ryan had just arranged beneath the tree.

“Hey!” Ryan snapped, grabbing something silver and sparkly from Dean’s grasp. “Do I need to have Crystal put you on a leash?”

“Please God,” Crystal begged Ryan, “let one of those presents you have there be a leash!”

I nudged my way between Ryan and Dean to set the piles of gift bags under the tree, smacking Dean’s hand away from an ornament as I rose. He was spinning it with wonder, his eyes brighter than the tree’s lights. Another knock sounded, and this time Ryan hustled to answer it, more familiar voices drifting into the cabin.

“Emma, I swear on my left foot that I didn’t teach him that,” Jackson said, looking grumpy.

“Oh yes, you did!” she insisted, weaving around him to hurry inside. She gave Ryan a quick hello and then lifted Maddox up into her arms. “Where else would he learn that, huh?”

I tried to restrain my bemused smile, really I did. But Ryan’s laughter had me grinning, and Jackson’s pissed-off glower was just downright hilarious. Even after all these years, the guy never learned.

The woman’s always right. Especially when that woman was best friends with
my
woman, the most stubborn of them all.

Kate bustled back into the living room, pulling on my shirt sleeve, that determined look on her face.

Okay, correction. Maybe all the women in my life had a stubborn flair. I sure knew how to pick ’em, huh?

“You’re needed in the guest room,” she said, pulling my attention from Jack and Emma’s dramatic entrance.

“What’s up?”

“Whitney’s not feeling too good. So help me, Carter, if it’s what we think it is, I’m going to have to kick your arse.”

“What?” I jumped into action, heading for the bedroom. “What are you talking about?” She followed me into the bedroom but quickly waved her hands, letting me know this was between me and Whitney now. She asked Elizabeth to come with her and quietly closed the door to give us some privacy.

“Whit?” I asked, moving into the bathroom to look for her. She was on the floor, hugging the toilet. “Are you okay?”

“Do I
look
okay?”

“Uh…is that a trick question?” I crouched down slowly, afraid she might strike and take an eyeball out.

“You want to know why this is happening, Montgomery?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Oh, I’ll
tell
you why.” Her head came up and her face was tear streaked, her hair matted to the sides of her face. Those emerald eyes cut into me like glass, every ounce of sass she possessed raring and ready to go.

Oh, bloody, bloody hell.

“Because you just couldn’t wait to fuck me when I got home the night I worked late for the last book signing, remember? Elizabeth was already passed out, and as soon as I stepped through the door, you took me against the hallway wall. I didn’t even make it to the kitchen!”

“Wait a minute…”

“You knew I was out of my pills and that I didn’t have time to make my doctor appointment that week. You caught me, all weak and vulnerable, in that damn hallway, when there were no condoms to be found.”

“Whitney…”

“Well guess what, Montgomery? You’ve successfully knocked me up again. Congratulations!” Her head dropped and she started to heave again. I fell back onto my heels, my whole body tensing and drawing up with excitement, when Whitney was so clearly feeling anything but excited.