by Tia Siren
“Very funny, and I’m not going to even ask why you know a bail bondsman,” I said, giving him a strange look. “I’m going to tell her I love her, and she damn well better say it back to me.”
He grinned. “I don’t know if you can demand such a thing, but I’m glad you’re going to tell her. I think both of you will feel much better when you get your true feelings out in the open.”
“I’m leaving here in a bit. I already have my show covered for tonight, and it will be a replay for tomorrow.”
“You’re what?” he choked out. “Today?” he asked in horror.
“Not leaving like moving to New York today. I’m going to Vegas.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not eloping in Vegas. Why would you do that?” he groaned. “You’re in such a rush to get this whole thing done. Sit back and enjoy the ride a little. Maybe she wants the big wedding. Let her have a minute to decide what she wants. I can tell you that Elvis in a little white chapel is not every girl’s fantasy wedding.”
“Are you done?” I asked dryly, waiting for him to finish his tangent.
He shrugged. “No, not really. I don’t want you to make a mistake that gets your marriage off on the wrong foot.”
“I’m not going to Vegas to elope, Jaxon. Although, now that you mention it, that is a good idea,” I mused. “I might just bring that up. I’m going to Vegas to surprise Mia. She’s going to be there on a business trip and has no idea I plan on seeing her. I’m going to tell her I love her.”
He smiled and nodded. “Ah, got it. That is good. I’m proud of you. I feel like I’ve raised you right,” he teased.
“I’m going to miss you when I’m gone,” I told him. “Seriously. You’ve been a good friend, and you really did take me under your wing. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me professionally and personally.”
“You’re not dying. You’re moving. In this day and age, it isn’t like we won’t talk. I’m going to be out there from time to time, and I have a feeling you’re going to miss the ocean more than anything and be making some trips out here.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I have about a million things to get done. I’ll see you later today. If I don’t, I’ll see you Monday.”
As I left his office, I decided to pull the trigger on the house I had fallen in love with. I would make it work. It was too good to pass up. I called the realtor in New York and asked him to put in an offer. We discussed dollar amounts and went low, but not insultingly low. I hoped it was enough. The house had been on the market for a while. It would need some work, but I didn’t mind a bit. I was actually looking forward to some home improvement projects. Mia and I could pick out paint colors and redo the flooring.
I had only a few minutes before I had to leave. I sat back and imagined barbecues in the backyard and Mia tending a flower garden. That was probably a bit of a stretch. I couldn’t actually see Mia getting her hands dirty. I grinned. We’d probably need to higher one of those landscape companies to make sure our yard didn’t look like something out of the Addams Family.
I packed up my stuff and rushed out of the office, anxious to get to Vegas and surprise my girl. She was my girl; I just had to prove it to her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mia
The plane ride had been slightly uncomfortable, partly because the morning sickness decided to rear its ugly head midflight. Thankfully, I had my saltines and the attendant had some ginger ale to help keep things calm. It was the turbulence that did it. I usually had a pretty strong stomach. The baby clearly did not. I had a feeling this trip would be my last until after the pregnancy. I wasn’t sure I could handle another bumpy ride.
Next, I was taken straight to the hotel where I checked my bags at the front to be delivered to my room. I had to go straight to the fashion show that was being held in the same hotel. It definitely made things much easier, though some time to regroup would have been nice.
I put on my backstage pass and began my rounds. I found the photographer the magazine had hired and quickly introduced myself and gave him an idea of what I wanted. It was a bit of a whirlwind behind the scenes with models and various seamstresses running around looking incredibly frantic. There were plenty of familiar faces since it tended to be the same crowds at these things.
“Hi,” I said when I found one of the designer’s assistants. I quickly introduced myself and dove right into a brief interview. The photographer snapped a few pictures and we moved on to the next hive of activity.
The lights flashed once and then twice. “That’s our cue,” I told the photographer.
We headed for our chairs along the stage. I directed the photographer where to stand with the rest of the hungry young professionals carrying a myriad of photography equipment and then took my seat. I was exhausted. I still had a full day in front of me. I hoped I had the strength to get through it. I should have come over the night before, but I had been too busy with other things. I was going to pay the price.
The person next to me began making small talk while we waited. She was not familiar to me and looked a bit older than the other people who sat in the front row.
“Are you local?” she asked.
I smiled. “I live in New York. I just came out to cover the show.”
“Oh wow! I didn’t know David was attracting people from so far away.”
“Do you know him?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yes, you could say that. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s my son.”
I giggled. “That is awesome. You must be so proud of him. He’s tagged as one of the rising stars in the fashion world. Do you mind if I ask you a few background questions for the piece I’m doing on him?”
The pride on her face was obvious. “I am very proud. Of course I can answer a few questions.”
We talked a bit about his childhood and how his interest in fashion started at a very young age. I couldn’t help but wonder about my own child. Would I someday be sitting in the audience of his or her show? Maybe my kid would want to be a doctor or an artist. The possibilities were overwhelming.
“Your son is going to be a big deal. I’m glad he has you to keep him grounded. The fashion world is very competitive, and things can get a little rough,” I warned her.
She smiled. “I won’t hover too much, but I do go to every one of his shows. I remember when it was just him and a few classmates from school. He did shows in his high school gym and at the mall. Now look at him!” she said with tears in her eyes. “He gets so embarrassed when I cheer at these things. I can’t help it. Are you a buyer?” she asked.
“No. I’m a fashion columnist. I’m covering the show for the magazine I work for. Every month I like to cover a new designer and give them some exposure.”
Her eyes widened. “You are? Oh my! I had no idea. Are there other big names here? I know no one. You guys will probably think I’m some complete idiot. I live a bit of a sheltered life,” she said with embarrassment.
“No one thinks you’re an idiot. I see a few other bloggers and photographers that have a strong following. This is a big deal. I think you need to be prepared for you son to be dragged to New York. He is going to be a big name in the industry by this time next year,” I said.
“Oh my goodness, New York,” she said. “I don’t know if I could live in the city. I’ll just have to visit him,” she said.
I smiled and nodded my head in understanding. The city could be intimidating, especially for those who weren’t used to the craziness that came from living in a relatively small area with millions of people. It took a little getting used to.
The lights dimmed, and the music started. I grabbed my pen and prepared to take notes. I had been to more than a hundred shows, but I never got tired of the runways. It was exciting, and I loved the vibe. Toward the end of the show, the now-familiar queasiness showed up again.
I excused myself and made my way to the buffet table. There was a lot of alcohol and some very unappealing hors d’oeuvres. In the past, all that woul
d have been appealing. Looking at it now made me want to vomit. I found some crusted bread and scarfed down a few bites. Once the nausea subsided, I made my way back into the throng of people milling about.
The photographer found me, and we worked the party for several hours, him snapping pictures and me taking notes and asking lots of questions.
“Are you okay?” the young photographer asked.
I nodded. “Just a little dizzy. I think it’s the lights and the stuffiness in this room.”
“You better sit down. I’ll get you some water,” he said.
I moved to a row of chairs against the wall and sat down. I was beyond exhausted. I drank the water and felt a little better. I did one last round before telling the photographer he was officially off and headed for the elevator.
Feeling as if my feet were lead, I made my way down the hall to my room. It was close to midnight when I walked through the door. I didn’t even bother looking to see if my bags had made it, instead going straight for the bed and climbing in, not even bothering to strip off my clothes. I was too tired to think about anything other than sleep.
I woke far earlier than I wanted to on Saturday morning. It was seven in New York, but only five in the city that never slept. Unfortunately, I was greeted with a fresh round of nausea. It was becoming the norm, something I wasn’t all that pleased about. I had hoped to skip that part of pregnancy. I moaned and rolled out of the bed, still wearing my skirt and blouse from the night before, and called room service. Toast and juice were all I wanted for now, but I had a feeling once my stomach settled down, I would be making another call.
I sighed, looking in the mirror at my disheveled appearance. I had been in this same predicament many times before when I visited Vegas, but there had been a different reason for waking up in the same clothes I’d worn the night before and feeling like hell.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to calm my angry stomach while soothing my tired eyes. I stripped off my wrinkled skirt and blouse and pulled out my stretchy yoga pants and a long sweater. I piled my hair on top of my head in a loose bun and called it good enough. I wasn’t in a fashion show or out to impress anyone. I would shower after I ate breakfast.
Feeling a little better, I sat down at the small dining table with my laptop and began to do an outline of sorts for my piece. I wanted to get as much down as I could while it was still fresh in my mind.
A knock on the door alerted me to my breakfast being delivered. I jumped up, grabbed some cash out of my purse, and pulled open the door.
“Brad?” I asked, staring at the man standing in front of my door.
He grinned and pushed around me, walking into my hotel room.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Not bad, but we’re moving,” he said.
“What?” I asked, feeling as if I had missed something big.
“I’ll grab your suitcase. Get your laptop and whatever else. We’re upgrading,” he said, tossing my skirt and blouse from the night before in my suitcase and zipping it closed.
“What?” I asked again, beginning to feel like a parrot.
“We’re upgrading. Will you please grab your things so we can go? Your breakfast will be delivered when we get up there.”
I couldn’t seem to move or form a coherent thought. The man was in my hotel room in Vegas. How he’d known how to find me was one question I wanted an answer to, but most importantly, where the hell was he taking me?
“Brad.”
“Mia,” he said, walking into the bathroom and doing a quick sweep before grabbing my suitcase and moving to the door. “Where are your shoes?”
“Brad, I’m not dressed,” I mumbled.
He looked me up and down. “You look dressed to me.”
“I’m not,” I said, waving a hand over my body. “I can’t go anywhere like this.”
He walked close to me and gave me a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “The woman I love would never turn down one of the nicest honeymoon suites on the strip.”
I gasped and looked up to gaze directly into his eyes. He wasn’t joking. I found myself at a complete loss for words even though there were about a million questions forming in my brain. I turned to look at the bed where I had kicked off my shoes before climbing into bed last night.
I walked over and slid the heels on, not caring how ridiculous the shoes looked with what I had on. My face was devoid of makeup and my hair probably resembled something of a beehive hit by a tornado. I walked to where he was standing at the door and questioned him again with my eyes. His only response was to grin.
He pulled open the door, gestured for me to walk out first, and then shut it behind us. Somewhere in the back of my stunned mind, I was glad it was really early. Most people would still be in bed, meaning no one would see me roaming the halls of the hotel looking like a bad hangover.
He pushed the button for the elevator, grinning like a fool the entire time. I looked up at him, watching him closely, wondering what the hell he was up to.
“I’m happy to see you, too,” he said with a smile.
I nodded. Words refused to form and pass my lips. I could only stare at him. I wondered if I was in a dream. Maybe I was actually still passed out on the bed in my hotel room. That would make sense. This was the kind of thing that happened in dreams.
I relaxed a little and decided to go along for the ride. I would wake up soon enough and start my day all over again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brad
The woman beside me was unnaturally quiet, and I was a little worried. She didn’t look well. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my surprise appearance or a late night. Regardless, I was quite proud of my ability to render her speechless. My plan to surprise her had worked. Hopefully, the rest of my plan would go as well. I slid the card key in the door, waited for the green light, and pushed it open.
I heard her gasp and looked down to see the reaction on her face. The room was gorgeous. It had taken some work to get it, but I was glad I had.
“Nice, huh?” I said with a smile. “Better than your original room.”
Her eyes were wide, and she nodded her head. She didn’t say a word. I realized she was still in shock and gently pushed her into the room before turning to grab our suitcases. The woman looked catatonic. I left her inside the door and dragged the suitcases into the separate bedroom. I smiled when I saw the huge bed sprinkled with rose petals. It was perfect. I put the bags in the closet before checking out the adjoining bathroom. The huge Jacuzzi tub was going to make Mia a happy woman.
“Wait until you see the bathroom,” I said, walking back to where I hoped she would be checking out the rest of the room.
When I went back into the living area, she was standing in the middle looking around the luxurious space. She still wasn’t talking. The woman couldn’t be all that surprised. I mean, she did tell me where she was going, and I had surprised her before. I kind of figured she would be expecting me. I hadn’t been entirely sure Helga wouldn’t tell her. I had hoped she wouldn’t and had begged her not to, but ultimately, I knew her loyalties were with Mia.
I walked closer to her and waved a hand in front of her face. “Mia, babe? You’re kind of freaking me out a little. Are you seriously hungover or what? Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Maybe a little hair of the dog will help you find your ability to speak again,” I said, walking to the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice.
I took in her appearance and realized she was looking a little green. I had gotten in late last night myself and been told there was a big fashion event happening in the hotel. Initially, I was going to surprise her by showing up to the party but changed my mind. I wanted my surprise to be a bit more private and a lot more special. I had decided to wait to make my grand entrance, expecting to be met with open arms and what I hoped would be a lot of sex.
I hadn’t wanted her to think I was
crashing her party, so I gave her some space last night. Now I was thinking I should have shown up and taken care of her. Someone should have cut her off last night. I was instantly pissed at the people she was with for letting her get so drunk. In the back of my mind, I thanked my lucky stars some asshole hadn’t tried to take advantage of her. I wasn’t quite sure how I would have handled showing up to her hotel room early in the morning and finding another man in there with her. That could have gotten really ugly really fast.
“Mia?” I said, standing at the bar in the room and looking over the assortment of liquor. “Can I pour you a glass of champagne, or do you need something a little stronger? Shot of whiskey? Maybe you just need some water?”
She blinked several times before looking at the bottles and then the champagne. “No. I can’t.”
I shrugged a shoulder, deciding I was going to pour her one anyway when it hit me. I froze mid-reach for a bottle. Her reply was replaying in my head. It wasn’t right. I looked back at her and saw her standing there, still shell-shocked. I put down the champagne flute and walked toward her. My brain was in overdrive. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
“You can’t?” I asked, feeling as if I had been chewing on cotton. My mouth was so dry, I was barely able to get the words out.
Can’t was not won’t. There was a huge difference in her choice of words. If she didn’t want a drink, she would have said she didn’t want one, or no thank you. Instead, she said she couldn’t have one. She was a grown woman. She could do as she pleased. I was afraid to acknowledge what her word choice meant. I stood in front of her, my heart racing as I used one finger to gently lift her chin, making her look at me.
“You can’t?” I asked again.
She shook her head. “No, I can’t.”
I gulped down the lump in my throat. “Why can’t you have a drink, Mia?” I asked, holding my breath as I waited for her reply.
