Chapter 45 Darby
DARBY
What a clusterfuck all around.
What if I’d driven all night to get here, braving mountains, snow, and exhaustion…
Only to be hustled out the door so they could go play bridge?
Where would I have even spent the night after driving so long? For all I know, they’ve converted their guest room into a Victorian Christmas village. Even at the old house, Mom was always in her she-shed churning out more painted ceramics.
After so many years, I see them in a new light. What was it that Leland said… “Fucked up with them. Fucked up without them.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Sorry, everyone. That was… a lot. Thanks for being here with me.”
Henrik squeezes my hand. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, babe.”
I turn toward him a little, searching his face. “Maybe if Dad recognized your name earlier, he would’ve been more interested in how we met or where you live.”
“The only thing he might have cared about was dragging us to his next tee time so he could show us off to his cronies,” Ren mutters. Then he looks up into the rearview mirror, catching my gaze. “Sorry, Darby. That was—”
“True. Every word of it. After being away for so long… Yeah. My eyes are wide open for sure. I didn’t think the way I grew up was weird or lonely.
Then I thought they’d washed their hands of me because I got married so young.
But they were never really interested in me as a person at all, other than showing me off to their cronies and bragging about my grades or achievements.
I’m just sorry you all dropped everything to fly out here with me for a thirty-minute conversation in a Vegas Victorian Wonderland. ”
Ren snorts. “Sounds like one of those five-minute wedding chapels.”
“You guys are always giving me shit about my lack of interior decorating,” Leland says. “Maybe I’ve found some new inspiration.”
“Duuuude,” Ren drawls out. “If you bring out any Victorian tchotchkes, I’m going to assume you want to do some target practice.”
After a few laughs, Ren drives us down the Strip.
At night, it’s always a glittering, magical place but in broad daylight, it’s kind of sad.
The traffic’s surprisingly light and despite the nice sunny day, there’s way fewer people out walking than I expect to see in Vegas.
He whips into a massive parking garage and heads straight to the valet parking section.
Oof. I’ve never forked over so much just to park. Though I have to admit, it’s super nice to just toss the keys to someone else and walk in. Henrik has to give a Mighty Zon look to the bellhop to keep my giant suitcase for himself. The rest of the guys are carrying light duffels or backpacks.
I snag Ren’s arm before we get to the registration desk and whisper, “Are you sure Skadi’s okay here? This looks fancy.”
His lips quirk, a dimple popping up in his cheek. “I’d never book a place she couldn’t go too, right Miss Furry Butt?”
Skadi yips in agreement.
“Welcome to The Bellagio,” a young woman says. “How can I help you?”
“Could I speak to your concierge, please?” Ren asks.
She nods and moves behind the long desk to a private office, and Ren gives a jerk of his head to Henrik. “Show time, Zon.”
“Got it. Lee?”
Leland moves closer to my side, and Henrik steps up to stand beside Ren.
It’s subtle but the two of them suddenly look different.
It’s in the way they stand. Ren’s chin is up, his shoulders relaxed, but it’s like springs coil in his muscles.
Confident and a little aggressive. Henrik plants his feet wider than usual and crosses his arms over his chest. His head tips forward slightly, like he’s a bull pawing at the ground, ready to charge.
The cocky Hotshot and the Mighty Zon. Side by side.
If they’d done this pose at my parents’ house, Dad would’ve shit a brick.
The concierge steps out of his office and freezes for several moments, his eyes lighting up. He makes a high-pitched sound I’ve never heard come out of a grown man’s mouth before.
“Sir?” The young woman asks. “Are you okay?”
“Right.” He clears his throat and puts on his professional hat.
“Welcome to The Bellagio, Mr. Gustafson. I had no idea you were bringing Mr. Zondag with you as well. That’s…
amazing. Outstanding.” He clears his throat again.
“We’re absolutely thrilled to have you both staying with us.
My name’s Andy, and I’ll be ecstatic to help you with any detail of your stay with us, no matter how trivial. ”
Ren casually pulls out a square package I hadn’t noticed under his arm. Naturally it’s wrapped in white paper but no bow or ribbon. “I brought a little something else for you, Andy.”
The man’s hands tremble as he unfolds the paper to reveal a hockey jersey in deep red and blue with a white snowy swoop over a capital B. “Oh. Oh. My.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t provide a Mighty Zon jersey, but I can offer a picture with both of us if you’d like.”
Andy claps his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yes! Thank you!” He hands his phone to the other employee and steps out from behind the desk, his eyes shining.
Leland, Skadi, and I move aside so we’re not in the background, which lets me get a better look at their faces.
Henrik’s silent as the Mighty Zon, the stoic, grim giant, but Ren’s trademark wide grin and easy charm have everyone eating out of their hands.
They’re starting to draw attention from other guests and employees.
“Would it be too much to ask if we could take a few pictures outside?” Andy asks. “With the fountains in the background?”
“Sure,” Ren says. “That’s not a problem.”
Andy grabs one of the bellhops. “Take Mr. Gustafson’s party’s bags up to the Penthouse Suites.” To the wide-eyed woman we’d first talked to, he says, “Make sure to attach the Tower as well so they have plenty of space.”
“Yes, sir. At once.”
We start to move toward the grand front entrance, and an even larger group follows, whispering and snapping photos.
As he moves past us, Henrik grabs my elbow and draws us along with him, rather than letting me quietly slip to the back of the crowd.
Leland’s on my other side, so I reach out and grab his hand.
The leash is looped around my wrist, Skadi trotting along with us wagging her tail.
I’ve seen the fountains from a distance but never taken the time to get out and look at them up close.
Henrik stands with us, letting Andy and Ren take a few shots with the water shooting up behind them.
Then turning the opposite direction so The Bellagio entrance is behind them.
I bet that’s going up on their corporate social media sites.
Andy’s holding up the jersey in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. Lucky number 13.
The snowy wave on Ren’s head suddenly makes perfect sense. It’s the swoop from his team’s jersey.
I tug lightly on Henrik’s arm, and he bends down to hear me whisper, “What was your number?”
“Thirty-three.”
Random people are lining up now to take pictures with Ren. He’s in his natural element, smooth and easy, smiling and talking to strangers like it’s no big deal. I mimic Henrik’s mean pose, scowling. “He’s being entirely too smiley again.”
Henrik throws his head back, roaring with laughter, and now everyone’s looking at him—us—too. I hear the whispers spreading, “The Mighty Zon.”
Ren waves him to join him for the line of fans.
To my horror, Henrik doesn’t let go of my arm as he heads that way, pulling me along with him.
I’ve got a death grip on Leland’s hand too.
If I have to go—he’s coming with me. Skadi too.
Though she loves the attention. I’m pretty sure she thinks everyone’s here to look at her and tell her she’s a good dog. The best dog.
“Nobody wants me in their pictures,” I whisper harshly to him.
He grins down at me. “I do.”
Ren wraps his arm around me on one side, Henrik on the other. Leland beside him. Proudly posing in front of me, Skadi tips her head back in an excited howl mixed with yips, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Who’s the lady?” Someone asks in the crowd.
Henrik beams a megawatt smile worthy of the Hotshot. “Our fiancée.”
Andy helps us escape the crowd so we can walk around the gorgeous hotel grounds.
Skadi runs off some energy in the dog park.
Ren got us reservations at some high-end restaurant for dinner.
None of us are dressed up enough for such a place, but when the Gustafson Hotshot and the Mighty Zon show up together, they’re never turned away.
The food’s good, I suppose. I probably would’ve thought it some of the best I’ve ever eaten.
Until I had Henrik’s rabbit.
The suites are luxurious, probably expensive as fuck.
I’m mentally tallying up how much this trip must have cost them, and it makes me wince.
Probably a month or more of my salary, and for what?
A sad, brief visit with my parents? Who didn’t even congratulate us on our apparent engagement?
Wish me a Merry Christmas? Happy New Year? Nothing.
Henrik’s big hand wraps around my nape and he tugs me closer, dragging me up on his lap, my head against his chest. “What’s wrong, babe?”
We’re all sitting in various chairs around the suite—none of which are as comfortable as his giant leather sofa at home, or Ren’s pure white sectional. Blushing, I push that memory away. For now, at least.
Leland’s on his laptop, but he looks up immediately. Flipping through television stations, Ren puts it on a hockey game with the sound muted.
Breathing in Henrik’s woodsy scent of smoky pine and leather, I feel the tension drain away. It makes me think of snow. His snug cabin in the mountains. His big body wrapped around me. Wherever we go.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be homesick for snow. “I was thinking.”
“Hmmm, that’s not a good sign.” He rests his chin on my head, tightening his arms around me. “Tell me whose teeth I’m going to knock out.”
“Mine, I guess.” I let out a sheepish laugh. “I thought I wanted to lay around a pool and get some sunshine.”
“But?”
Skadi’s head pops up, her ears perking. I’m pretty sure she knows what I’m going to say before the words come out of my mouth.
I lift my head and look up at my grim giant. The longer I’m silent, the harder he scowls. Though his hands remain gentle, gliding up to cup my face. Waiting for me to say it.
He knows too. He’s always known.
“Take me home, babe.”
His entire body flexes around me. “Lee, fuel the plane. We’re going home.”
Thank you so much for reading the first part of Darby’s story! I’m sorry it took me so long to get her talking.
I think I mentioned before that I hired someone to help me with the plot so I could write faster, but joke’s on me. “Help” only blocked me. It disrupted the magic that makes words come together in my head. As a result, I couldn’t hear Darby at all.
Until this year when I finally found her voice again.
As you see, she has a lot to say. So much that I’m going to have to write her another book. Watch for news of Snow Song on Facebook or my brand-new website. I won’t set up a preorder until I’m confident of the date and timing so no one’s disappointed.
Which is why I’m inserting this note here, rather than at the end of the book.
There’s an epilogue following this chapter, but if you don’t like cliffhangers, stop reading now!
I’ll add the next chapter to the beginning of Snow Song so you won’t miss anything.
But if you want a clue for what’s coming next, keep reading!