I close my eye. "Go to sleep."
"I'm just saying the people of Bora Bora owe you a fruit basket."
"Sleep."
We are forty-five minutes late to dinner.
Preston looks up as we approach. He clocks the damp hair. The unhurried walk. Jax's expression, which can only be described asaggressively smug.
Preston's eyes cut to me.
I sit down and reach for the wine without making eye contact.
Preston opens his mouth.
"Don't," I say.
Preston closes his mouth. He picks up his glass. He looks serenely out at the ocean.
"Mail call!" Luke announces, oblivious to the interplay between us. He puts a stack of items on the table. "The concierge gave it to me. Apparently, family drama follows us across the equator."
"Oh no," Preston groans, pouring wine. "Is it a subpoena? Or a bill for the jet skis?"
"First," Luke says, holding up a small, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper, "is a priority parcel. For us. From Mama Ortiz."
Preston freezes. He stares at the package like it’s a pipe bomb.
"Open it," Luke urges, shoving it toward him. "She marked it 'Urgent'."
Preston gingerly tears open the paper. He reaches in. He pulls out two small, soft objects.
He holds them up.
They are socks.
But they are not normal socks. They are microscopic. They are hand-knitted in St. Jude’s Hospital blue and white.
"Are these..." Preston’s voice cracks. "Are these for a cat?"
"Those are booties," Jax identifies immediately, laughing into his wine glass. "Infant size. Newborn."
Preston drops the socks onto the table as if they are radioactive.
"Oh my god," Luke whispers, his face draining of colour. "She knitted them. That takes time. She started knitting these before we even left the reception."
Preston picks up the note attached to the package, and begins reading it out loud, his hands trembling as he progresses.
"'My Darlings, I am knitting faster than you are working. Do not make me wait. The clock is ticking. Love, Mama.'"
"We’ve been married for less than a week,” Preston squeaks, his usual composure shattering completely. “One week! I am not ready for biological variables! I can barely keep a succulent alive!"
"I barely just became an attending!” Luke panics, grabbing Preston’s hand. "I eat cereal for dinner! I can’t raise a human! A human needs nutrients!"
“We all know that Mama Ortiz is a force of nature. Resistance is futile,” I say, enjoying their panic immensely.
"We need to hide," Preston decides, shoving the booties back into the box. "We need to stay in Bora Bora forever. We can live on coconuts. It’s the only way to avoid the knitting needles."
"Agreed," Luke nods frantically. "We are now fugitives."
