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Dane: My pleasure, Shorty. :))
Dane
I’m getting in the the back of the town car I ordered for the night, on the way to Stella’s apartment for our we’re pregnant celebration dinner.
Truth is, it hasn’t completely sunk in yet. I’m still swamped in amazement. I’m a father. Well technically not yet, but soon enough. And it was all so easy. If we keep going like this––
My cell rings and the screen lights up with my sister’s name. Giorgia’s having her second baby so I never ignore her calls.
After the heart-to-heart with my pops, my next call was to my sister. Let’s be honest, three months? I couldn’t wait three minutes. She screamed so loud in excitement I’m surprise she didn’t drop that baby right then.
“Georgi, how’s the baby comin’ along?”
“Dane––”
The way she says my name makes the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. “Everything alright?” I say, my body bracing for what I instinctively know isn’t good news.
“It’s Dad––he’s had a heart attack.”
My stomach hits bottom, my pulse picks up speed. “Where is he?”
“Oklahoma Heart Hospital in stable condition. I can’t get there for a couple of days, I’m––”
“I’ve got it. Don’t stress. Where’s Levi?”
“Dallas. He’s on his way.”
“I’ll call you when I land. Love you.”
“Love you too. Dane…” My big sister’s voice cracks. It hits me in the chest and gets a hold of my heart.
“He’ll be fine. You know him––tough as nails.”
I hang up the call as the car pulls up to Stella’s building. The adrenaline rush makes me foggy. I can’t recall how I got here but I’m standing in front of her door as it swings open.
Stella greets me with a smile and I get a momentary reprieve from the anxiety that’s had a strangle hold on me since the call.
“My father’s had a heart attack. I’ve got to fly to Oklahoma City right now.”
The smile slides off her pretty face, and her blue eyes widen. “Oh my God, how is he?”
“Stable. My sister called when I was on my way over. I’m sorry about tonight.”
I’m about to spin on my heels, to leave, when I hear a sharp, “I’m coming with you,” and watch Stella turning the lock on her door before I can get another word in. “What…I––Stella…” I’m stuttering, so many thoughts and feelings swirling around my head that I can’t seem to get a grip on a single one. Or my voice for that matter.
“I’m coming with you,” she calmly repeats.
Ten minutes later I’m hustling her into the back of the car while I dial everyone I know. I can’t manage to get a chartered jet out of Teterboro Airport to save my life. Ethan called the owners of the Gladiators but they have their jet with them in Palm Beach.
Two fucking Super Bowl rings, countless MVP awards, millions of adoring fans and when I need to call in a favor because of a family emergency I can’t get a hold of anyone that can help.
Tugging on the collar of my dress shirt, I finally give up and yank my tie off and unbutton the collar. Stella dials her cell phone as I’m getting ready to lose my shit.
“Ira, I need your plane. A friend of mine needs to fly to Oklahoma City tonight…yes, that friend. His father had a heart attack and we need––” Our eyes meet and I swear my chest just caved in. Those big eyes hold mine and for a fraction of a minute I feel lightheaded, my stomach turning.
Nodding, she adds, “Uh huh, yeah, we’re on our way to Teterboro right now…great, thanks, Ira. I owe you. Send Esther my love.”
She ends the call. Gripping the cell phone in her lap, she turns the thing over and over, the delicate curve of her throat working as she swallows. She seems nervous. She looks at me then. In the darkened back seat of the car, her full lips shape into a soft smile and God help me it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“But I want to.”
She shrugs and looks back at her phone. “I’m glad I could help.”
All at once, it finally sinks in. We’re having a baby. I’m having a baby with this woman, this incredible woman. A sigh of relief slowly hisses out.
Chapter Fourteen
Stella
I may have acted a tad impulsively. This is new territory for me. I’m a hardcore scheduler. I’ve never done anything impulsive in my life…well, until Dane happened to me.
This mistake becomes glaringly obvious when we board the small plane and I remember how much I hate to fly. Seeing as I’ve done it only one other time in my life, you really can’t blame me.
Foot tapping against the floorboard, fidgeting in my seat, I’m a live wire. Dane grabs my hand and frowns when he realizes how clammy it is.
In the last two months we’ve seamlessly slid into this quiet comfort level. Where it’s okay to touch each other. Or more precisely where it’s okay for him to touch me. I should be alarmed in the proprietary way he does it, openly and without hesitation, but I’m strangely not. I can’t muster a bit of alarm even if I tried.
“You scared?”
“No,” I answer dishonestly. Look, I’m an analytics girl, I love me some stats. And yes, cars are more dangerous. There are solid numbers to support that. Except it all flies out the window when you’re sitting in a phallus-shaped tin can propelled into the air at hyperspeed by two manmade engines––emphasis on manmade. Birds can drop this thing out of the sky like a stone, so stats be damned.
“Does it happen every time you fly, or just private?”
“This is the first time I’ve flown private and the second time in a plane altogether.” When I don’t get a reply to this, I glance at the big man sitting next to me. He’s genuinely surprised.
“Second time? Really?”
“Last year was the first time in my life I’ve ever taken a vacation,” I add with a shrug.
More silence––and confusion. “Why?”
“Work. I have a lot of responsibility at work and…” Again, I glance his way. His expression intense, his attention engrossed. He deserves the truth.
“And…I’ve always been concerned with making as much money as I possibly can. I don’t like spending it and I love making it, that’s why.” I said that quickly, way too quickly. As if I’m apologizing for something. Which I shouldn’t be.
I never understood why people see monetary pursuit as evil, something to frown upon, and yet desperately want all that money can buy.
I’d like to see one parent refuse money for their child’s education, or their healthcare, or dental care, or the car that keeps their child safe. The list is endless. Money is a means. And to me, it’s always been a means to feel safe.
“Besides, why go on vacation if you’re not going to enjoy it? Right? I would’ve only been worried about getting back.”
“But you took one last year?”
“Ira made me. He sent me and Delia to his beach house in St. Barth. I didn’t know what to do with myself and Delia wouldn’t let me near a computer or phone. It was boring. I came back two days early.”
He blinks, processing my story.
“Huh,” he finally says and turns to look out the window. It’s then I realize we’re already at cruising altitude and my hand is still safely tucked into his.
Three hours later and I’m in Oklahoma City dressed in a black cocktail dress and four-inch Manolo Blahniks––with no change of underwear.
At the airport I searched the gift shop for something more comfortable while Dane was getting the rental car, and came up with nothing suitable. I have no doubt we’ll be spending long hours in the hospital, but walking around in an XXL men’s t-shirt that says Spare a Horse, Ride a Cowboy would not have been an improvement.
As soon as we step inside the hospital, Dane sees me shivering from the subzero air-conditioning in the waiting room and takes off his suit
jacket, draping it over my shoulders. Beautifully tailored to hug his big body, it hits me below the knees.
I still don’t know what possessed me to invite myself on this trip. Except, as he stood there in my doorway in a suit––and bless his heart he’d tried to tame his hair––looking so unlike himself, so concerned and a bit lost, my heart leapt in my chest. It did all the speaking for me. This is the father of your child and he needs your support, it said and since my heart rarely, if ever, speaks to me, I listened.
