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“Sometimes I wish this wedding was over.”
Lance bit his lip. “What if we eloped?”
“What?” Andrea giggled. “My mother would have a heart attack!”
“Mine would too.” Lance stood and paced the floor.
“I’ll be there soon. We’re almost there, so let’s stay the course. At the end, we’ll both get what we want.”
Lance paused. “I know.”
“I have to go. I’m meeting my assistant in a few minutes. Hopefully my sleep tonight is better than last night.”
“Goodnight, Babe.”
“Not quite for me, but goodnight.”
Lance hung up and pressed the phone to his lips. Eloping. If he and Andrea took off the town would have a fit, not to mention the press. Social media already circled rumors that Andrea was pregnant, which led Lance to propose to her. Thankfully, that rumor proved false when Andrea attended the Academy Awards in a fitted emerald green dress with no signs of a baby bump.
Baby. Ciara. Lance closed his eyes, blocking out the baby gurgles he had imagined he would hear. Either way, boy or girl, a healthy child was all he had prayed for. Looking upward at the ceiling, he hoped his baby was happy in Heaven.
His heart swelled, wondering if Amelia met his baby. He didn’t tell Chantelle this in their last conversation. Lance tried to stop her, but when she asked about baby names, he couldn’t help remembering.
***
The following day, Lance stared at the TV on the wall of his room. While he did some sightseeing, especially enjoying Times Square, all he wanted now was food and his bed. The job was done in New York. His flight would leave early the next morning, so jet lag was inevitable. He held the room service menu, perusing his choices. Burger? Chicken salad sandwich? Caesar salad?
Grabbing the telephone, he placed an order for a burger and fries. Lance could work it off later at the gym. He sat back on the bed, his body sinking into the pillows.
He heard kids running down the hallway outside his room, while traffic and construction occurred outside on the street. Lance relaxed in his soft bed besides the noise. Though accustomed to the serene sounds of Delta Heights, he could adjust to his environment. With heavy eyelids, his head drooped to his chin.
He shot upright at the sound of his cell ringing. Groaning, he scurried to find it, only to spot it next to him in bed. His father called again.
“Well,” his father said, with a hint of sarcasm. “I don’t have to ask how the meeting went, do I?”
“You’ve already talked with Mr. Bramble.”
His father sighed. “I did, only to give him a heads up.”
“You didn’t think I could handle it?”
“I know what you’re capable of, Lance. I know how hard you work. It doesn’t go unnoticed. The deal’s in the bag. Right?”
Lance rubbed at his chin. He had to try again. “I think too many will lose their jobs. I think we need
to find an alternative.”
“Son, we’ve already—”
“A man shouldn’t have to worry how he’ll feed his kids.”
“We’re in a business. We help companies so they can turn a profit.”
“We’re also a business that deals with people. This is their livelihood.”
“And mine. Yours too. We can’t save everyone.”
Lance’s pulse quickened. “So that’s it?”
