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“It would mean taking her somewhere secret,” Romero murmurs, as if I haven't already realized that.
“I know, and together we can decide where that will be.”
“And you're still okay with it?”
“Do yourself a favor and quit while you're ahead,” I advise my daughter with as close to a smile as I can muster. Besides, I have an idea of where she could go and be perfectly safe, somewhere I could find her if I needed to. “It's for the best right now—that does not mean I expect this to be permanent. You will be coming home. This is where you belong, with your family.”
“I know. And I’ll come back for the baby. I promise.”
Romero and I have a lot to talk about, and the look I give him conveys this. That can wait until later. “You'd better,” I tell Tatum, holding her a little tighter before steering her out to the hall with an arm around her shoulders. “Or else you'll have to be the one to explain it to Bianca, because I'm not sure she'd want to hear it from me.”
“Don't want to hear, what from you?”
Sound travels very easily in this place. It doesn't hurt that Bianca stands at the other end of the hall, frozen stiff.
Tatum pulls up short, sighing unhappily. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what?” Her head swings back and forth as she searches for an explanation. “I was just coming in to say hi and let you know I made it back okay. What did I miss?”
Tatum looks up at me, pleading silently. I have too much to do, making arrangements for her safety, but it looks like that will have to wait a while. “Tatum is going to be leaving us for a little while—Romero, too.”
She comes our way slowly, dragging her feet while her mouth hangs open in disappointment. “What? Why? Where are you going? What about the wedding and the baby and all the things I was hoping we would do together?”
“It’s complicated,” Tatum tells her, reaching out like she wants a hug. Her arms drop when Bianca backs away. “Don’t be mad.”
“Don’t be mad? You’ve practically been a stranger for weeks. I keep getting the feeling you resent me. Now you’re running off with no warning?” The color rises in her cheeks, darker with every word. “How am I supposed to keep from getting mad?”
The quaver in her voice gives away the sadness hiding beneath her anger. Something tells me there’s much more of the former than the latter.
“At least hear her out,” I murmur. There’s a line between wanting to help and getting too involved. I’ve never been good at navigating this sort of thing but I can’t stand back and watch them hurting. “She has a good reason, and I’ve agreed it’s the best way to go.”
“Until things calm down,” Tatum promises. “I didn’t want to worry you, but Kristoff’s dad has been on my ass for a while now. I just need to get away from everything. Get my head straight.”
Bianca’s mouth pops open. “So it’s not because you don’t want to be here?”
“Not even close.”
“You were supposed to be my maid of honor.” Tears fill her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know it’s selfish of me to bring that up but I’m disappointed. Damn that jerk, making you run away and miss everything.”
“I think I know a way around that.” Not quite, but an idea begins to form. “Would you mind having a smaller, intimate ceremony at first? Something we could put together here, on the property?”
Bianca’s eyelids flutter. “Oh. I—I don’t—”
“You don’t have to go to the trouble for me,” Tatum murmurs, watching her friend. “I know you want the whole shebang and you shouldn’t have to sacrifice that just to have me with you when you get married.”
“No, no, I think that’s a great idea.” A smile begins to stir at the corners of her mouth. “I was surprised, that’s all. We could do a smaller ceremony here to make things official, and once things have calmed down and you’re feeling better, we could have a bigger party.”
I didn’t realize until this moment how much it would mean to have my daughter with me while I commit my life to the woman of my dreams. “That sounds wonderful.”
“We have so much work to do!” Like magic, Tatum snaps into planner mode. “We might be doing this here at the house, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be special. You need a dress and shoes, and we’ll need flowers and rings and you’ll have to get your marriage license, and maybe we could get something set up on the grounds—like a floral arch or something where the two of you can say your vows.”
It’s the most life she’s shown since her return from Europe, and the dazzling—if dazed—smile Bianca wears tells me she sees it, too. “I’m following your lead,” she tells Tatum, who takes her by the arm and leads her down the hall while making lists of everything that has to be done.
Something tells me even an intimate ceremony can end up costing an arm and a leg, especially when my daughter is involved. The price doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth every penny.
BIANCA
“Everything's all set.” Tatum comes flying into her room, a tablet balanced in one hand.
