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Wife—another title that was new to me, just like mother.
Both scared the absolute crap out of me, but I’d never had a free second to properly inspect them.
Since the second I’d told Duke…things had changed. Starting with him all but dragging me off the red carpet at one of the most important award shows of the year and fucking me in a bathroom. That was a very macho-man way of telling me he was happy about the pregnancy.
Neither of us really had the conversation about moving but it went without saying that we were going to the ranch. We were going home.
Duke was, of course, still working for the Greenstone Security team. As much as his family would’ve loved him to come back home and be a full-time cowboy, it didn’t work that way. You can go home again but you have to realize that home might not have changed—but you certainly had.
Duke’s family realized this now, as much as they could, and they accepted that. Whatever their son had to give, they took. Supported.
And the news of my pregnancy was welcome.
The news that we were moving up the wedding was not.
Well, it was welcomed to everyone but, you guessed it, Harriet.
“What are you having a shotgun wedding for?” she’d demanded. “We all know that neither of you are virgins and bastards are created inside of wedlock just the same as outside. I already ordered an entire new wardrobe for Tahiti. It’s island chic.”
“We never said we were going to have the wedding in Tahiti,” I said with a smile. Duke was grinning too, since he knew his grandmother and had already predicted a response like this.
“You were going to have the wedding in Tahiti because it would’ve been my dying wish.”
I froze. “You’re dying?”
Duke stopped grinning now.
I knew that Harriet was old. I knew that grandparents died, it was the cycle of life or whatever. But since all my grandparents had already died before I was born, I’d thought of it with the same detachment I’d adopted until I met Duke.
But Harriet was different.
Harriet had more energy than most twenty-year-olds. She was healthy. She wasn’t old, and she wasn’t going to die.
It was selfish, me wanting her alive because I hadn’t had enough time with her. But I also saw what a light she was to Duke’s family. She was the spine of them all.
“Everybody’s dying,” Harriet said. “I could die tomorrow. We never know. So you should get rid of all this nonsense and fly us to Tahiti.”
“You’re not allowed to emotionally blackmail me into thinking you’re dying just so you can get a free trip to Tahiti,” I snapped and Duke had relaxed.
Well, kind of. Since the pregnancy news, he’d been hyperaware of everything that may spike my moods. He’d taken away my fucking cheese and coffee, sushi too. Women were having babies in caves when humanity began. Surely I could have a fucking California Roll and a latte.
Duke didn’t agree.
And usually I’d argue with Duke tooth and nail, but I couldn’t exactly win this one since it was about the health of our unborn child.
“I am eighty-one years old, honey,” Harriet said. “I am entitled to use any kind of blackmail, emotional and otherwise, to get what I want.”
I smiled again. I was already going through a roller coaster of fucking emotions with this pregnancy, but naturally, Harriet had to add to it.
“How about this? I’ll fly us all to Tahiti for your eighty-sixth birthday?” I offered.
A pause. “Now you’re blackmailing me to stay alive.”
“Of course I am. I’m pregnant, I’m allowed to do such things.”
So it was decided. We had the small wedding on the ranch.
Well.
It was meant to be small.
Then Rosie heard about it. She, of course, called Gwen. Who, of course, called the rest of the motorcycle babes. I was still wrapping on a movie. Duke was still following me around as if he thought Kitsch might come back from the dead. Well, that and the fact the media attention had not yet died down since the story had broken. Whatever the reason, both of us were delayed and didn’t end up making it to the ranch until the day before we’d planned the wedding.
And I’d been blown away. The entire place was transformed. There were people everywhere. The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before Rosie all but yanked me out—earning a growl from Duke to which she responded, “Dude, Viking women were giving birth on the battlefield. She’ll survive this.” She then dragged me off to our cabin.
Which Duke was banned from.
Again, there was some growling, scowling, and a macho-man mini tantrum, which might’ve worked if there was just me here. As it was, it did nothing but amuse Rosie, Gwen, Amy, Mia, Lexie, Lauren, Lily, and Bex. Harriet was front and center, blending in with the beautiful, stylish women effortlessly.
