DOUBLE KNOT Read Free

luggage one last time, then turned to me.
    These would be our last moments alone.
    “Davis.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair; he shifted his weight. “You’re beautiful.”
     He swallowed. “And I love you more than life.”
    “Bradley—” I opened my mouth to call the whole thing off when a knock on the door
     interrupted. Several knocks, in fact. Sharp insistent knocks. With one last kiss to
     the top of my head, I could feel his heart beating against my cheek, Bradley, jaw
     set, opened the door. It wasn’t the maritime moving company.
    “Davis, what in the world are you blubbering about? And you look like a botanical
     garden. Surely to goodness you’re not planning on wearing that. For one thing, you’ll
     catch pneumonia. For another, it’s too bright and busy.” A crooked finger pointed
     down the hall. “Go change out of that right now.”
    That was a really cute Chanel floral sundress covered in bright pink and mint green rhododendrons,
     a cropped three-quarter-sleeve pink sweater, and Kate Spade Melanie heels in fuchsia
     with a matching shoulder-strap bag. It was a perfect mommy-to-be ensemble for embarking
     on a luxury liner with fifty billionaires, a crew of four hundred, a medical team,
     a glamor squad, and my mother.
    “Caroline.” He kissed her cheek.
    “Hello, Bradley, dear.” She squeezed his arm, then turned to me. “Davis. Change clothes.
     Right this minute.”
    Right that minute, my phone rang in the shoulder-strap bag somewhere just behind me.
     Bradley had it out of my purse and in my hand before I could get past the babies.
     It was my pregnancy buddy, calling to wish me bon voyage.
    “Bianca?”
    “David, get up here. I need to discuss my birth plan with you.”
      
    * * *
      
    My birth plan was simple: get the babies out of me.
    Bianca’s, on the other hand, had kept a staff of twenty hopping for months with the
     only end in sight being the actual birth of the baby, because she wouldn’t stop changing
     her mind. Last week she fired the caterers and hired a new crew out of Charleston,
     South Carolina. “After all,” Bianca said, “I’m giving birth to a Southern Belle.”
     (We’ll see about that.) (And childbirth caterers? Have you ever?) Before it was over,
     I fully expected her to change her mind about physically birthing the baby and tell
     me to do it for her.
    “I’ll be right there, Bianca.”
    “You don’t have time to go anywhere,” my mother said. “You need to change clothes
     or you’ll be late.”
    “It’ll be fine.” Bradley put an arm around Mother’s shoulders and pointed her toward
     a set of royal blue club chairs beneath an abstract oil painting the size of a garage
     door. “The ship won’t leave without her. Have I told you how nice you look, Caroline?
     Very sporty.”
    “Sporty?”
    “Sophisticated,” he said. “I meant sophisticated.”
    Mother, who’s never been in a canoe that I know of, much less on a cruise ship, was
     dressed as Mrs. Fleet Admiral in Christmas red double-knit pants with a navy blue
     cotton blouse buttoned up to her chin. Over the blouse, she wore a crisp white linen
     jacket with gold piping and big gold anchor buttons. On her feet were red Easy Spirit
     crisscross sandals with a wide wedge heel. The only things she needed were stars,
     stripes, and a marching band behind her playing “Anchors Aweigh.”
    “Very stylish,” my husband said.
    My mother blushed. Shaking my head, I crossed the room the other way for the elevator
     in the closet.
    Bradley and I lived on the 29 th floor of the Bellissimo in more than ten thousand square feet of the casino manager’s
     residence. We’d recently redecorated, and by redecorated, I mean we stripped it down
     to the bare bones and put it back together in a contemporary way with lots of windows,
     cherry wood floors, beamed ceilings, clean lines and open spaces. Included in the
     remodel was a (Jack and Jill nursery!) private elevator that only