Hurricanes in Paradise, Denise Hildreth [ebook reader with internet browser .TXT] 📗

kitchen, wearing her pale pink leggings and pink leotard, and plopped onto a barstool at the counter. “I know. I know. Melissa’s coming to watch me tonight. That’s the only time you cook macaroni and cheese.”

Riley laughed as she twirled the wooden spoon through the cloudy water. “Yes, and Mommy’s very sorry. But there is something else I have to tell you. Daddy is coming in early to get you. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“But you said he’s coming in next weekend.” Her voice began to tremble slightly.

Riley turned the burner off and set the spoon down in the ceramic spoon holder by the stovetop. She walked around the bar and knelt down, turning her body toward Gabby. She placed her hands on top of Gabby’s stocking-covered legs. “Hey, I know. I know. But listen. It looks like there’s a storm coming through here, and Mommy doesn’t want you to be here for it. So Daddy is going to take you the first part of your vacation instead and I’ll have you during the last part. It’s like we’re doing a swap!”

Gabby threw her arms up, her dramatic abilities about to be unleashed. ”But my ballet recital is tomorrow night! I can’t miss it! I’m the star!”

Riley stood and laughed. “You won’t miss your recital, angel girl. Daddy is going to stay here for it and then you’ll leave when it’s over. So this way he gets to see it too.”

Gabby’s eyes widened, as if this might be a good trade-off. Then the crocodile tears ran effortlessly down the side of her small face. “But I’ll miss you,” Gabby said, biting hard at her lip, clearly trying to make her tears stop flowing.

Riley hated it when Gabby thought she had to be strong. She leaned over and wrapped her baby in her arms. “Hey, sweetie, listen. Mommy will miss you too. But you know what? When you get back, I’ll see if I can take an extra day off and we can spend the whole day together.” She tried to keep the lilt in her voice.

“But if I’m going away to be protected, who is going to protect you?”

Riley felt that one right in her chest. She hated that Gabby thought she had to protect her. “Hey, hey . . .” She held Gabby’s precious round face in her hands. “Mommy will be fine. Remember I’m always protected. Right?”

“Yes, angels. They protect us both.”

“Yes, so no worrying about Mommy. And if I have to leave, I will leave. But I have to take care of the guests here too. And some of them won’t be leaving.”

“You promise if it gets super bad that you’ll come to South Carolina with me and Daddy?”

She held her baby against her chest. “I promise. If it gets super bad, Mommy will come to South Carolina to be with you.”

* * *

The quiet was all around Tamyra when she finally opened her eyes. They burned as she blinked. She lifted her upper body off the floor and sat there in the strange hotel room. In front of her was a view of the ocean that would take most people’s breath away. But to her it was just water beating against sand only to displace it forever. Just like she felt. Displaced. Two months ago she had known everything the next few years of her life held. A new job. A new husband. A whole new life.

Today she knew one thing about her life: it held death. Granted, death comes for everyone. But most people don’t live with it as a vise grip around their necks. Most give it a passing thought when they hear of a friend’s sickness or a parent’s death. But it wasn’t a passing thought for her. For her it was a neon billboard that never went to sleep. And the knowledge of it had displaced her. The mere revelation of her illness had displaced the ring from her finger, the man from her side, the people from the guest list. And the uncertainty of life had displaced her from living it. Right now she just wanted to survive it. Life, that is. Today. She just needed to survive today.

Her stomach rumbled. Her eyes blinked hard and turned toward the clock. Five thirty. She hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. She pressed her hands against the carpet and raised her body off the floor while pain shot through her leg from the stationary position. She grabbed her makeup bag from her carry-on and walked into the bathroom to let warm water flow over a soft white washcloth. She wrung the water out and patted the wet cloth across her face. Her eyes were almost swollen shut. She pulled Visine from the makeup bag and tilted her head back, letting the wet drops flood her eyes.

She blinked as the drops careened down her face and then wiped them with the warm washcloth. She hoped her concealer was a miracle worker. She studied her tank top in the mirror and deemed it neat enough, even though the nap on the floor had been brutal to her shorts. She ran her hands down the front as a makeshift iron, studied her efforts, and declared them good enough. She grabbed the denim jacket draped over her suitcase and stuck her room key in her back pocket. When she had pulled three pills from the refrigerator, she walked out the door in search of dinner.

* * *

Laine looked at her watch. She had been sitting in the same chair on the veranda of her suite for almost four hours. Mitchell’s words pounded afresh with each wave that crashed onto the sand. She had officially heard him say, “I won’t call you again” well over three thousand times now. Her OCD wasn’t a great traveling companion in moments like these. She lifted herself from the cushioned chair and walked over to the small refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a can of Coke, grabbed a small glass from the velvet-lined