4. Bertie
BERTIE
“This is first class.”
I glance up at Luke from where I’ve slid into my seat by the window. “Is that a question or a statement?”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t have to splurge for me.”
“I didn’t. I splurged for me.” I rifle through my purse, not for anything in particular but just so I have something to do to keep my jittery hands busy.
“Yeah, but you could’ve gotten me a cheaper seat. I wouldn’t have complained.”
“I know you wouldn’t have.” Sometimes I wonder if Luke has ever complained about anything in his entire life. The guy is the definition of easy-going. Nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. I pat the empty seat beside me. “Sit down. You’re going to hold up boarding.”
He plops down, looking around in panic, but there’s not actually anyone waiting behind him yet.
“Relax.” I pat his knee. “You’re too jumpy.”
“Can’t help it,” he mumbles. “I’m not used to fancy shit.”
I try not to laugh. “You do realize you’re going to be playing for the NHL soon. You’ll be making good money. Soon, this will be nothing.”
He shakes his head. “I hope I never get used to this kind of thing. I don’t want to take things for granted.”
God, this man. He’s too fucking pure for words.
“I know this is something we should’ve already talked about, and I haven’t wanted to ask because I’m a bit scared of the answer, but what team drafted you?”
He shakes his head, lips twitching with the threat of a smile. “The Nashville Reign.”
“Really?” I blurt in surprise.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asks curiously.
“Good. I … I don’t really have a plan after we graduate, but I thought I might head to Nashville for a while.
” Our university is close to Nashville and since I love it around here, I thought I would either move right into the city or close by.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t move wherever you’re playing considering I have no idea what to do with my life, but now that I’m pregnant, I’m kind of glad to know that we’ll be close to your mom.
” I shake my head. “Sorry, that probably sounds so pushy of me, like I expect your mom to help, but even if we’re not together-together I figure you’ll want to be close to the baby, so I just thought I’d move wherever you were going and … I’m going to shut up now.”
He cracks a smile. “You’re pretty cute when you ramble.”
“Ugh.” I press a hand to my face. “No, it’s embarrassing.” Letting my hand drop, I ask, “Do you have an apartment lined up or anything?”
“I’m supposed to move in with one of the other players and his wife after we graduate. They have a garage apartment I can stay in.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a pretty big garage,” he says, his shoulders almost rising to his ears. “It’s a nice space. They sent me a video. Here.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through his camera roll before landing on the video he wants. He passes it to me to watch and he’s right, it’s a decent amount of space with a small kitchenette, living room, a bedroom area and separate bathroom.
“It’s cute.”
I mean it too. Whoever decorated clearly has good taste. It almost looks like a little cottage with soft blues and whites and the occasional pop of yellow.
“Yeah, his wife likes to decorate.”
“Have you met them already?”
“No.”
I arch a brow. “And they’re letting you live with them?”
He stows his phone back in his pocket. “It’s pretty common for rookies to live with another player.”
“Interesting. I had no idea. Would they be cool with me living there too? I mean, only if you want me to live with you. That was presumptuous of me. I’m sure I could get an apartment nearby.”
“I don’t think they’ll mind, but I’ll be sure to talk to them.”
Before the plane finishes boarding, I text Jeffrey, our butler for lack of a better term, because assistant certainly doesn’t encompass all that man does for our family, that we’re taking off soon and everything is running on time.
God knows if I texted my parents they probably wouldn’t even read it.
I called my mom five times about coming this weekend before she ever returned my call.
I don’t think they’re too thrilled about me showing up and they’re not going to be happy when I drop the baby bomb on them.
“How are you doing with all this?” I ask Luke.
“With what?” he asks.
“The baby.” I try not to smile at his adorably confused expression.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
I gape at him. “I told you not even a week ago and you’re okay? It took me weeks to get used to this.”
He shrugs. “It’s happening and I’m along for the ride.”
I don’t know whether to be irritated by his blasé attitude or just glad one of us seems to be handling this calmly.
“You’re giving me a funny look,” he says, concern darkening the blue of his eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s just … I don’t understand how you’re so calm about this while I was freaking out.”
His lips flatten. “I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m not freaking out—but you’re pregnant, that’s a fact. We’re going to have a baby in a handful of months—also a fact. I guess I’m just trying to take things a day at a time and not worry too much about what the future holds.”
I groan, my shoulders drooping. “That is such a guy thing to say.”
“I feel like I’m fucking this up every time I open my mouth.” He rubs his jaw. “Sorry.”
“You’re not. I’m not mad at you or anything, but it’s just annoying that my brain isn’t being casual about this at all. I’m so freaked out by pregnancy, and labor, and a newborn and all the things that come after.”
I don’t realize my hand is flailing wildly in front of me until he grabs it and settles it in his lap.
“Breathe.” Somehow, I manage to obey the command. “I think it’s normal that you’re worried about all those things.”
“But you’re not,” I counter.
He chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry, give me time and I’m sure I’ll get there.”
“Have you ever been around babies?”
“No.”
I flop my head against the seat. “Me neither. I don’t even know how to change a diaper.”
Luke cups my cheeks and pulls my attention to him. “We’re going to figure this out. Together. I promise.”
Together.
It’s the way he says it that makes me believe him.
I’ve never had someone look at me the way he does, and maybe that’s why he mildly terrifies me.
I get the impression Luke Covey always says what he means, and means what he says, and if he’s saying he’s going to be my side through all of this then that’s what he’s going to do.
“Together,” I echo.
“Jeffrey!” I cry out when I see the man that’s always been more like a father to me than my own flesh and blood waiting outside the airport. The older man with graying hair and a thick beard opens his arms wide for me. “I’ve missed you.”
He smells familiar. Like cinnamon and peppermint.
“I’ve missed you, kid,” he says, hugging me back. “And this must be your friend.” He lets me go to extend a hand to Luke.
“Luke Covey. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Jeffrey opens the back door of the Mercedes, and I climb inside with Luke following.
“Your family has a driver?” he asks under his breath.
“Jeffrey is way more than a driver. He basically runs our entire household,” I explain, sliding the seatbelt over my body.
“Your life is so different from mine.”
“Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
” I think about the baby growing inside me, and how despite my fear I already can’t imagine being as indifferent with it as my parents have been with me.
My mom has always cared more about shopping and parties and hanging out with her other rich friends and my dad’s singular focus has been how he can continue to grow the Carthwright fortune.
Jeffrey climbs behind the wheel, and we head off toward the house.
Darkness has fully descended, and I find myself stifling a yawn. Despite the only two-and-a-half-hour flight, I’m exhausted. Something tells me this is a symptom of pregnancy.
“Your parents are out for the evening and won’t be in until much later. Just in case you were hoping to see them tonight.” Jeffrey glances in the rearview mirror, no doubt trying to gauge my reaction.
I purse my lips. “Of course they are.”
Their daughter, who they barely see, says she’s coming for the weekend, and they can’t even be bothered to be home when I get there. I don’t know why I’m even upset. It’s not as if I don’t expect this.
“You should see them for breakfast.”
“Can’t wait,” I mutter.
The sad truth is, I could probably get away with not even telling them I’m pregnant. Chances are we wouldn’t cross paths anyway unless I forced it like I am now.
Luke’s hand finds mine where it rests on the middle seat between us. He twines our fingers together and gives me a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
One lone tear leaks out of the corner of my eye.
I’m not sure why I’m even upset.
They’re following their usual script. It’s me who has deviated off the page.
Luke doesn’t ask me if I’m okay and for that I’m grateful.
When we get to the house, Jeffrey pulls up to the front door. “Elise prepared two bedrooms, but if you’d prefer to use one room that’s fine as well.”
“Two rooms is fine,” Luke answers before I can.
“I’ll park and bring your bags in,” Jeffrey says. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be up with them.”
I lead Luke up the steps and to the massive front door. He looks around, but his face betrays nothing of his thoughts on the sheer mass of the house.
“So, this is the Rhode Island house,” I say hollowly. I swing the doors open to the foyer with a sweeping staircase.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, but I’m not quite sure he means it.
“It’s cold,” I mutter. “And showy. Like everything else my parents do.” Smoothing my hair back, I force a smile. “Are you hungry? There are always prepared meals in the fridge.”
“Are you hungry?” he counters.
I shake my head.
“Then I’m not either.”
“I just want to go to bed,” I admit. “I’m already tired and I haven’t even told them yet.”
I start up the stairs and he follows.
“I’m sorry they’re not here.”
I shrug off his words. “It’s probably for the best. I’m not sure walking in tonight and dropping this news on them would play out for the best anyway.”
“My room.” I point to the left. “And I’m guessing they put you in this room.” I lead him to the one next door. Swinging the door open, I step inside and spin around to gauge his reaction.
He lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”
“It’s gaudy as hell,” I sigh, taking in the large monstrosity of a bed piled high with covers and pillows.
The wood furniture glimmers when light hits it thanks to the gold painted in strategic spots.
“Everything is always for show,” I mutter.
“But”—I clap my hands together— “the good news is that it’ll probably be the best sleep of your life.
The mattresses are superior.” When he doesn’t say anything, I keep rambling.
“Closet.” I point to one door. “And bathroom.” I point to the other.
“Does your room look like this?” he asks, curious. “Or did you decorate it?”
I shake my head. “I call it my room, but it’s a guestroom like this one. I just stay in the same room whenever I’m here, so I call it mine.”
His brows furrow. “So, it’s not personalized to you at all?” I shake my head. “What about a different house of your parents?”
My throat feels tight as I cross my arms protectively over my chest. “No. When I went to college all my personal items were cleared out and it became a standard room.”
It’s been years since that happened and it still stings. I came home for Christmas break to find that my parents couldn’t even be bothered with being home and that I didn’t even have a room anymore. Not really, anyway.
Luke rubs his jaw and looks like he wants to say something else but chooses to keep his mouth shut.
“Anyway,” I say when the quiet has gone on too long for my liking. “Jeffrey should be here any minute with our bags. I’m going to shower and go to bed.”
“All right.” He looks around the space, and I’d give just about anything to know what he’s thinking. “You know where I am if you need me.”
I leave him to it and scurry next door to my room.
When the door closes behind me, I finally let a few tears escape.
I can’t believe I told them I was coming home and they’re not even here.
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I say, “Baby, I promise to never ever make you feel like this.”