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Failure to Launch
I’ve never made it a secret that I struggle with the adulting. I mean, one year ago my life looked completely different. I was paying off loads of college debt, not using my degree, and blissfully living paycheck to paycheck while bartending at an underwhelming hole in the wall in Oregon. So how did I get here? Well, it’s an interesting story—and a hot one—with a lot of unpredictable twists and jaw-dropping turns.
Honestly, I’ve barely had time to catch my breath since I shifted from the pokey lane to the jet-set lifestyle of a billionaire’s wife. Yep, I said billionaire—with a big old B. He’s not a dick either. But he does have a big one.
To be clear, it’s never been about the money for me. It was a little about the personal chef he had when we met because food is my porn. And a lot about the orgasms, because I never knew such things were possible for me. But never about his fortune.
No clue how I landed my own personal Prince Charming. It’s not like I came with any sort of sex skills or strategy. But somehow, in all of my clumsy awkwardness, Hale fell in love with the real me.
That’s Hale sleeping right over there...
Sure, he doesn’t look like much in that chin-to-chest dad-pose with his hands folded around that plush unicorn but, believe me, when he’s conscious and vertical he’s a total smoke show.
He’s resting because we have a ten-month-old daughter who just started walking. Chasing her little butt around is freaking exhausting.
That’s Peanut sleeping next to him...
Sure, she looks all innocent now, curled up like a little cherub with her Meep Meep sheep, but I promise there are little nubs under those soft curls where horns are starting to grow. She’s only in the button-buck stages of demonized behavior, so I’m still hopeful. But if her tongue starts to fork, we’re in trouble.
I sighed. Who was I kidding? They were both perfect.
Yes, Hale was a bit of a neatnik operating under some severe and technically undiagnosed OCD. But those control freak proclivities had served him well so far.
And Elara—a.k.a. Peanut—well, she was the other love of my life and just as stubborn as her father. Yes, the Davenport DNA was strong in that one. I was going to miss her while we were gone.
Chewing my lip, I glanced at the various stacks of new clothes. How was I ever going to fit all of that into those tiny suitcases?
It had been one week since the wedding, and the guests—aside from Hale’s mom and the nanny—were all gone. Thank God.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated everyone coming out to celebrate with us, but people were exhausting. And 99.9% of those guests were Hale’s friends, not mine.
I had eleven guests at our wedding. Eleven. Hale had three-hundred and twelve.
Suffice it to say, I was ready to get away. It had been weeks since I’d been home and our flight was leaving in twelve hours.
My stomach hurt every time I considered how long we would actually be gone and how much Elara would change. Two months seemed excessive, but billionaires liked to be extra.
I glanced back at the two of them. The fading sun illuminated the Manhattan skyline, casting Hale in a golden glow and bringing out the rosiness of Elara’s cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Hale hadn’t moved from his comfy position as he watched me through those intuitive silver eyes.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Rayne, I know that face.”
I sighed. “Maybe we planned too much. Two months is a really long time to be away. Elara’s going to be one by the time we get back.”
“We’re coming home the week before her birthday. We talked about this, Rayne. Elara will be in Avalon with my mom and Andrew. We can video conference and see them every day.”
“Hale, have you ever tried video conferencing with a toddler?”
“I do it every time I’m away on business.”
Hale traveled a lot, so he was used to distance. But I was a homebody. I hadn’t been away from Peanut for more than five days since she was born.
He stood, tucking the plush unicorn next to Meep Meep and covering his daughter with a soft blanket.
“You’re tense,” he said as he gently worked the knots out of my shoulders.
