Page 27 of Soaring and Saucy

“You’re welcome… a lot.”

“Ladies, relax – and yes, you are slightly bitter when you aren’t getting all snivel-ly. Yes, it’s a word. This is Kentucky, so don’t gimme that look. If ‘burgoo’ is a word then snivel-ly is a word, too, Miss Dictionary.”

“Nashville.”

“What about Nashville?”

“There’s going to be line dancing in the street during a block party, and we snagged a hotel room. Wanna go shake your ‘thang’ with a hot cowboy?”

“I already did that with a sailor, and it makes me bitter, remember?”

“Welp, guess what? You sure can’t get any more pregnant than you already are.”

“Nope – you are actually safe to ‘knock boots’ for the next six months or so.”

“Oh my gosh, do you even hear yourselves?” Stephanie gaped in shock, staring at them in horror. “I’m pregnant – and married.”

“Wood,” Natalie said simply, picking up one of Stephanie’s business cards and holding it up in front of her face pointedly. “It still has your last name on it.”

“Yeah - It doesn’t say Carlton,” Lila added, chiming in and nodding.

“Cavanaugh,” Stephanie corrected bluntly and hesitated, looking at them with an uncanny awareness. They wanted her to go so she could watch their purses, hold a table, or drive. She was pregnant, so she sure wasn’t going to be drinking anything. Sleeping with someone was out of the question – because she wasn’t even sleeping with her husband currently if he was actually still her husband. The unsigned marriage license was still on the visor of her car.

Plus, she needed to decipher that bombshell he’d fired in her direction - Fine. See you in two hours. Was he flying here? Why hadn’t he warned her – or was that his poor excuse of a warning?

“I’m not going to Nashville – and I hope you have a good time,” she said simply, trying to keep the frustration and hurt out of her voice. What kind of friends did she have if they were encouraging her to ‘run away, get drunk, and sleep around’… when she was pregnant and married? Were these the people that were supposed to support her and have her back?

The only one that’s done that is Lance – and you know it.

That little voice in her head was awfully quiet and lonely in the darkness of her mind, yet spoke up searching for the truth that couldn’t be argued against. Her friends had barely congratulated her, whereas the man she’d tried to ignore was actually trying in the sweetest ways possible. Hearing the bell at the front door of the bank chime, she glanced up at the clock before turning.

“We’re… closed?”

Her voice stammered as the statement turned into a question at the sight before her. Natalie and Lila were arguing about which of their boyfriends had sent them flowers, with a delivery man standing there, waiting. He was holding a bouquet of yellow roses and white daisies in a bright golden vase.

“I’m looking for Stephanie Cavanaugh?”

“Awww… Steffi, it’s for you.”

“Aren’t yellow roses or daisies a bad thing? Don’t they mean funerals, or did I miss something? Dude, are those supposed to be red? Doesn’t red mean love?”

And Stephanie swallowed, a lump choking out any and all coherent thoughts in her mind as she stared in disbelief at the sight before her. No man had ever thought enough to send her flowers, even the rare few that she had dated in the past. She slowly raised a hand of acknowledgment, not trusting her voice.

“Gotcha,” the driver said simply, handing her a clipboard as he set down the golden vase and turned it slightly. There, before her, the vase wasn’t just any plain shape; but a ceramic egg with a baby chick on the side. “Can you initial on the ‘X’ for me, and then I’m out of here, ladies.”

“Are you heading down to Nashville, handsome?” Lena crooned, as the blood roared in Stephanie’s ears.

This was from Lance… again.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she began numbly, grabbing her purse and clocking out, before plucking the sweet vase off the counter. That was going home with her, and now she had a theme for the baby’s room. He sent her a baby chick, so maybe she would look for little farm animals?

She wasn’t sticking around to listen to her ‘friends’ persuade the delivery driver to join them in Nashville. No, she was going home with her flowers and had two hours to think before whatever happened next.

9

TROPHY

Lance winced as the plane landed hard. He hated being out of control, and this was no exception. The rattletrap he was confined in wobbled precariously before making a right turn, taxiing to the main building of the airport. He landed his Hornet on the carrier all the time – and on short runways for practice. Despite the length, you had to stop, but there was such a thing as grace or finesse. He could have done a better job – and said as much on his way exiting the plane.

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