Page 61 of Calamity Rayne Knocked Up

I had to pee so bad I didn’t care who saw, but Hale was the proper type. As soon as I was away from the car and out of the driver’s view, I hiked up my dress and squatted.

“Whoa.” Hale rushed to stand before me, opening his suit jacket so the driver didn’t get a show.

“It’s freaking freezing here!” My teeth chattered.

“Watch my shoes.”

“Then back up. I can’t stop once I’ve started.” My knees ached from sitting for too long and I wabbled. “Shit.”

Hale quickly grabbed my elbow for balance but it was too late. “Sorry!”

“Momma?”

“I’m going potty, Peanut! I’ll be right there.”

“I wanna potty!”

Hale looked down at his leather Berluti shoes and grimaced.

I quickly wiped and righted my clothes. “We should let her go.”

“She can wait to use the bathroom at the house.”

“Hale, the books say we shouldn’t ignore her requests for a toilet.”

“A tree is not a toilet, Rayne. This will just confuse her.”

“If she was a boy you’d let her pee.”

He ushered me back to the car, toosmart to get bated into a debate about gender biases. Once we were back on the road the driver avoided all eye contact. I stuffed my trash into a plastic bag and handed Hale a tissue for his shoe. He didn’t complain about the marks on the leather, but I knew he wasn’t happy.

“Guess you’re not a golden shower sort of guy,” I joked.

He scowled.

“Well, I feel better.” That was really all that mattered.

When Hale’s family showed up for a holiday, they really moved in. It was like watching an episode ofThe Crown.

Servants I didn’t know the names of bustled about the estate, unloading ice-packed delicacies and filling liquor cabinets with favored labels. Remington arranged for a butler, a housekeeper, and a chauffeur in addition to his usual staff.

Hale and I preferred a more intimate setting, so we gave Andrew the week off. If we needed extra help, we could rely on our moms. They didn’t get to see Elara as often as Remington, so they usually were a big help.

It was always interesting watching Hale’s mom, Naomi, interact with Remington. Shecalled him Remy, and the man turned into a teenager around her. It was adorable. I was curious to see how Odette took their subtle flirting.

Being pregnant and past the morning sickness stage, I had many requests for the Thanksgiving menu. Remington protested my requests, informing me that Hugo, the Belgian chef he’d hired, was the best of the best and not to be micromanaged.

“Dad, leave her be,” Hale argued.

“It’s handled Hale. Don’t be difficult, Meyers.”

“I’m not being difficult. I’m pregnant.”

“Honestly, Remy, show a little compassion. She’s giving us a grandchild,” Naomi chimed in, earning some extra mother-in-law points. “If Rayne wants something different, she should have it.”

I looked at Marta, who was standing by the door, wringing her hands. “Mr. Davenport, denying a pregnant woman a craving is bad luck. You will get a stye.”

“Christ,” Remington muttered. “Fine. God forbid we adhere to tradition and turn our nose at superstition.”

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