Chapter Three - NOLAN
“Isn’t this exciting, Bronte?” Ivy is cuddling our baby close to her breast as we all look up at the helicopter approaching.
Bronte looks scared if you ask me. It’s her first ride. And to be honest, I’m not sure I like the helicopter idea. “Maybe we should just charter a boat?” I say.
Ivy shoots me a weird look. She doesn’t even bother answering because I’ve offered up this alternative several times and she thinks I’m being ridiculous.
Bronte’s mouth opens wide as the helicopter touches down. Her wild blonde hair is flying in the wind because I was in charge of dressing her this morning and I don’t know the first thing about taming baby hair for a helicopter ride. I’m just about to point to her and say, “See! She’s afraid of it.” But her delighted squeal has me shutting up.
It figures.
We had to buy special baby headphones for the ride because the noise level is too much for a six-month-old. I got black ones. With little skulls on them. And while I was at it, I bought her a little flight jacket to match. It has the most badass patches on it.
Ivy looked at her this morning. Looked at me. Back at her. Then said, “She looks like she’s starring in the baby version of Top Gun, Nolan.”
“Yeah,” I said, pretty fucking pleased with myself. “So fucking cool, right?”
Then I got another one of those looks for swearing.
Girls. I don’t shake my head as the helicopter door slides open and we walk forward. But I want to.
It’s not that I wanted a boy. It just never occurred to me that we’d have a girl. And I do realize—after the fact—that it wasn’t rational. In fact, it was kinda stupid. It’s just… I don’t really know what to do with a little girl. It seems everything in that department belongs to Ivy. She does her hair. She paints her toenails with special baby polish. She buys her dresses and makes her look pretty. She even decorated her room.
I wanted green, man. Celtics green because that’s my team. I was even gonna settle for green and white instead of green and black.
But nope. Her room is pink and gray.
I do admit, it was a better option. But Celtics green was a good idea too.
I feel out of my element here. And it’s only gonna get worse, right? Baby Bronte will grow up to be pre-teen Bronte. She’ll fall in love with some jerk in a boy band and plaster that dumbass’s face all over her wall. Ivy will take her to stupid boy-band concerts and shit. Then she’ll fall in love with a real guy and I’ll be the asshole dad meeting her date at the door with a shotgun.
And Ivy is already talking about baby dance classes when she’s three.
I think she’d dig tee-ball way more than stupid ballet, but what do I know?
I just don’t see how I can win at this daughter stuff.
And I know Ivy’s not ready for another one yet, but I’m totally into trying for number two like right the fuck now.
We get settled into the ’copter and Bronte is fascinated by everything.
Wrong again, Nolan. She loves it.
Ivy chats with the pilot for the whole twenty-minute ride. I think about the wedding. Then I remember Pastor Rockwell, Ivy’s father, who kinda hates my guts and is gonna be here tomorrow night when all the parents and family show up.
I get it. I took his daughter away. I eloped with her, robbed him and Mrs. Rockwell of a wedding, and then showed up on his doorstep with my newly pregnant wife. He definitely hates me. But it’s been over a year, man. Come on. This guy needs to cut me a break.
Our resort out in the California desert is going so well we moved to Colorado so Ellie and Ivy could be BFFs. That’s like… a whole three hours closer to Ivy’s parents now, since they’re still living at that private school he runs up in Massachusetts. They could at least give me that.
Plus I’m making bank now. I was making bank before too, but now it’s totally legit bank. Club money is kinda dirty. But resort money, now that’s something you can talk to your in-laws about. And I got a huge inheritance when my father passed away last year.
Except Ivy’s father isn’t into money. He’s not impressed by material things.
Which makes me roll my eyes.
“Why are you rolling your eyes?” Ivy asks in the headset.
“Thinking about your dad,” I say. “And how I can’t ever please him.”
“Well, he was certainly excited about coming out here for the wedding.”
Yeah. But that’s because he doesn’t know we’re all still lying low after we almost got sucked into some bullshit secret society last year. And Five. Jesus Christ. He’s gonna ask a million questions about Five and then what do we say?
I don’t say any of this to Ivy, of course. Mostly because I don’t know this pilot, even though he’s on Five’s payroll, and he can hear everything we’re saying. But also because I don’t want Ivy thinking about last year. She got shot.
Shot.
I still can’t believe it.
The only good thing to come out of that whole nightmare was that her ex, Richard, was proven to be a douchebag. Which made me look a whole lot better in the eyes of Pastor Rockwell.
Bronte reaches for me, which makes me smile and forget all the crap rolling around in my head as I take her from Ivy’s arms. She pats her hands on my cheeks and spits up right on my shirt.
I kiss her chubby cheek and say, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
She laughs out her confirmation.
“I think she looks adorable in this Top Gun outfit.”
Ivy drags her eyes off the view of paradise below and gives me an indulgent smile. “She does,” she says. “But wait until you see her in the special dress I had made for the wedding.”
Yeah, that thing. I have no clue where to start with that. I’m really hoping Ivy’s gonna dress her for the wedding because it’s got like… layers and shit. Tulle or chiffon. Whatever the hell you call that floofy fabric that fancy dresses are made of.
“And her hair will be so cute!” Ivy squeals. “I can’t wait. I’m gonna burn the entire day into my mind and think about it constantly for the next hundred years!”
I thought I knew women, ya know? Thought I had a pretty good understanding of what they’re all about. But it turns out I only knew a certain type of woman. Baby girls… I just have no clue, man. None.
Bronte falls asleep soon after that, which makes me feel all warm and happy inside. So I let all the doubts and weird shit crawling around inside my brain fall away and just enjoy the ride.
It is beautiful. The islands down below are nothing but small patches of white sand beaches. The water is so fucking blue—so many unreal colors of blue, there’s not even a word to describe it.
And then Five’s place comes into view. I’ve never been here before. None of us have. Five is freakishly weird about letting people on his island. But his queen wanted a wedding, and he knew the rest of us were talking about a group one, so he offered.
I’m kinda humbled that he’s doing this, actually. And not only is he allowing the Rockwells to attend, he even invited Pastor Rockwell to officiate.
It means something. Especially to a gang of guys like we are. Tight-knit and filled with secrets. But Five’s secrets are part of it, so it means he’s one of us now.
I kinda like having a number six on this team. In fact, we’re not really six, we’re twelve. All the girls are part of us now too. Even his girl—Rory Shrike.
Match is gonna flip his lid when he gets here. And Cindy… Jesus. I don’t know what Mysterious has been telling her all these months, but I’m guessing she kicked his ass when he finally broke it to her that her sister was alive.
Cindy and Oliver were kept in the dark on purpose. Five didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about Rory. Did I mention he’s a little bit paranoid?
He is. And that reunion between Oliver, Cindy, and Rory—not to mention Ariel, who didn’t know anything either—well, I wouldn’t miss that for the world.
I’m looking forward to my wedding too. Just like Ivy said, I’m gonna burn that day into my mind and think of it often over the next hundred years just like my Mrs. But tonight, when these Shrike siblings all get back together… well, let’s just say the shit is gonna go down.
And that’ll be one for the books too.
I smile at my private thoughts as the helicopter circles over an island down below. It’s big, as far as islands go. I count three houses, a few outbuildings, too many bungalows to count, and something that looks like a barn with paddocks filled with horses, with a whole maze of trails leading into the jungle.
“Yeah,” I say, whispering into my headset so Ivy can hear. “We’re having a wedding in paradise, babe. There’s never been a wedding quite like this before, has there?”
Ivy leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “Never before. Never again. We’ve got the market cornered on best wedding for all eternity. And I can’t wait to see you all dressed up in your tux. All hot and sexy.” She turns a little, and I think she’s forgotten that the pilot can hear her, but before I can warn her, she says, “I’m gonna give you the fantasy night you’ve always dreamed of, Mr. Romantic.”
I look up at the cockpit and catch the smirk on the pilot’s face as he looks over his shoulder at us. I pull my headset down with the one free hand Bronte isn’t monopolizing right now, and then do the same for hers, so I can lean into her neck and whisper, “Mrs. Romantic, I don’t need the fantasy anymore. Because I’ve got the real fucking deal every day of my life.”
She giggles, hiding her face in that shy way she used to do more often when we first met.
And I decide I like that. I miss it.
So I’m gonna make it my goal for our wedding night.
I’m gonna take her to our room, do things to her she’s never even dreamed of, and make my Mrs. blush the entire fucking time.