Flint looks over at me, curiosity and interest in his eyes. “We? So we take care of them together?”
Oh God. We’d be practically alone all over again. Should have thought that through before you jumped right in there, mouth. Thanks for all your help.
“Well, I know all the sights to see around here,” I tell him with a shrug. Keep it neutral, Laurel. Don’t freak out and start dribbling orange juice down your blouse. “We could have a day of it, then drop the kids back off with Callie and David afterward. I’m sure the hotel has nanny services.”
Thomas scoffs. “Do they ever. Those children will be speaking fluent Mandarin and understanding quantum mechanics by the time they leave. Along with getting toddler massages.”
Flint grimaces. That sounds a little creepy to me too, so I think we’ll cancel the massages. But the rest sounds amazing.
“Settled,” I tell Flint, and squeeze Thomas’s shoulder. “You’re the greatest.”
“Only because you inspire me to be,” he says, his straight-guy flirting imitation hilarious. He kisses my hand, which sets me giggling.
Flint says nothing, probably still pining for Charlotte. I see him pick up his phone and start typing in his lap and can only assume he’s checking in with his lady love. Barf.
“What’d I miss?” Callie asks, wheeling the children back to the table. She sits down, looking even more tired than she did five minutes ago. “Don’t gossip without me.” She grabs Flint’s coffee and downs it in one gulp. I get up and push my chair back.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Would you excuse me one second?” I leave them all and head into the restaurant to call David. I’m pretty sure I can get him out here tomorrow on the production’s dime, first class all the way. Shouldn’t be that hard. All I have to do is title him a show consultant, and he’ll be drinking complimentary champagne at thirty thousand feet by nine AM. This business does have its perks.
30
“God, why are you bringing me here? To show me all the amazing things I’m missing out on in life?” Callie mumbles as she meets me in the lobby of the Peninsula. The walls are white marble and pastel tile, and the air smells like gardenias. All around us are bellhops in crisp uniforms wheeling the luggage of Beverly Hills elite. Gorgeous, suntanned women waltz over to the Palm Court to have tea. Callie smiles and looks down at the twins. “Auntie Laurel says we’re going to go sightseeing, but mommy really thinks she could use a nap for the rest of her life.”
“Oh, there it is! I knew I dropped it,” I say, rushing back to pick up the phone I ‘accidentally’ let slip out of my purse. “Phew! I sure was worried.” I even mime wiping sweat off my brow. Man, I’m an acting god.
“Laurel, come on. Let’s just go,” Callie moans. “You used the bathroom. Twice. Let’s get some lunch.”
“Oh, we’ll be going in just a minute,” I say, laughing a little falsely. Yep, I’ll be leaving with your kids, Callie. Then you get to have some wild afternoon delight with your husband. Not the greatest visual I have ever treated myself to, but it’s meant with love. “I just need to check that all my, er, data is still there. Like. That none of it fell out.” I check the phone again. I am not the world’s greatest liar.
Callie crouches down over the kids to wipe their faces—apparently you can spit up at any time of the day if you try hard enough—and I look back over my shoulder. Come on, Flint. Another few minutes of this and I’m going to have to literally tap dance to get us to stay.
“Laurel?” Callie sounds more than tired; she sounds sad. “What if my marriage really is falling apart?” She looks up at me, her eyes bright with tears. “What if David is tired of me? Of us? All of it, the kids, the house, the—”
“Hey.” I crouch down next to her, giving Lily a dropped bottle. “No one could get tired of you. You’re a gorgeous, fun, snappy woman. I mean, who doesn’t love that?”
Callie sighs and takes the tissue I offer. “I’m just afraid we’re never going to get back to where we were before the kids were born. You know? Rested. Happy. Having sex. Happily having sex.”
“Well, there’s always another chance,” I say, grinning as we get up and I point to the doors. “Look who just waltzed in.”
Callie turns around, a puzzled look on her face. The bemused expression evaporates when she finds that the mystery man, standing there with a suitcase in hand, is none other than David. Flint’s next to him, looking from his brother-in-law to his sister with quick, calculating glances. I can practically see the thought bubble over his head: ‘Okay, no one’s killed anyone yet. Things are going smoothly.’