“Again, mama!” Eric demands, clapping his chubby hands excitedly.
I laugh, squeezing him a little too tight before I sing again. The door opens and I lift my eyes to see Riggs, watching as he leans his back against the door and stares back at me and our son. The grin I love so much spreads across his lips while his eyes focus on Eric as he tries to make his hands climb the imaginary spout.
Eric’s hands drop to his lap as he spots his daddy and scrambles off my lap.
“Dada,” he cheers, wobbling his way to Riggs.
“Hey, buddy,” Riggs says, bending down to swoop Eric off his feet and raise him high above his head. “How’s my boy?”
I love watching them together. An overwhelming sense of pride envelopes me knowing I gave them to one another. Me, I did that, and that’s better than any nursing gig I ever could’ve dreamt of.
“Did you hear me, Kitten?”
Drawing him into focus I lift my eyes and shake my head.
“What did you say?”
“I said,” he starts, holding his free hand for me to take and pulls me to my feet. “Pack a bag we’re going on a mini vacation.”
He laughs when I stare at him like he’s lost his mind, for real this time.
“Hurry up, the car will be here within an hour to pick us up.”
I stare at him, watching as he calmly strolls around the apartment, pulling the phone charges from the outlet by the counter all the while holding Eric. He moves to the cabinet and pulls out sippy cups, toddler spoons and forks, Eric’s favorite Mickey Mouse bowl and places everything alongside the chargers.
“Where is your contact solution and case?”
“You’re serious,” I accuse.
“Kitten, don’t make me light a fire under that tight ass. I won’t have you ruining the surprise.”
“The surprise,” I repeat. He places Eric on his feet and closes the distance between us, cupping my chin with his hand and tilting my head so my eyes are level with his.
“Go with it, Lauren,” he says softly as his eyes fall to my lips. “Take the detour,” he whispers. His eyes travel back up to mine and he winks. That’s all it takes.
“Where are we going?” I question.
“Now, it wouldn’t be called a detour if you knew where we were headed, would it?” He bends his head, brushes his lips across mine. “Run away with me,” he whispers huskily against my mouth.
He didn’t have to ask, I’d always run with him.
Anywhere and everywhere.
An hour later, a chauffeur piled our bags into the trunk of a limousine while Riggs secured Eric’s car seat inside. I don’t know what brought on the unexpected getaway but I was going to take the detour. Just me and my boys.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Just me and my boys—and Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. The polished couple or former couple, whatever their status, greet us, pulling open the door to the limousine after arriving at their house in Martha’s Vineyard.
As far as surprise go, Riggs nailed it. I never saw it coming and I’m not quite sure why we’re here since Riggs became tense the moment he stepped out of the car, ignoring his father’s hand he extended to him.
“Lauren, welcome,” Mr. Montgomery greeted, pinning his son with a sarcastic look as he raised his hand, turning over his palm to reveal my name scribbled on his skin.
Narrowing my eyes, I glance over my shoulder at Riggs, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek and stares daggers at his father. He moves Eric to his other arm and reaches behind him pulling a black Sharpie from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Well played, son,” Mr. Montgomery says amused.
“Roger will bring your bags to your room,” Lenore announces, making her son turn his gaze to her and lift an eyebrow.
“Roger still works for you? He’s gotta be close to eighty, right?”
“It’s impossible to find help like him anymore and your mother does love the way he makes a Bloody Mary,” Mr. Montgomery adds, smiling at his estranged wife who was sipping on a peppered rimmed glass with a stalk of celery as big as her head popping out of it.
“Please, he can never retire,” Lenore admonishes, glancing at Eric for the first time. “Hello there,” she fusses. I couldn’t tell if it was forced or genuine and neither could my son, turning his face to bury it in Riggs’ neck.
“He doesn’t like me,” she says.
“He doesn’t know you,” I reply, offering her a small smile when she frowns. “I guess this little getaway will change that though.”
I elbow Riggs as he grunts and mumbles under his breath.
“Come on, Eric, I’ll show you where Uncle Bones and I used to build forts and pretend we were soldiers,” he tells our son, walking passed his parents. Reaching the door, he pauses and turns to me. “You too, Kitten.”