Page 28 of Taking A Chance

“Let’s get this train wreck going,” I say, pointing toward the door.

The ghost of a smile plays across his mouth. “Whatever you say, love.”

I simply cannot even with this pet name.

18

Declan

Jensen and Coraare very different people. Jensen’s brown hair and tan complexion next to Cora’s red hair and fair, freckled skin would have you thinking they’re not related at all. Although, I’ll say their eyes are nearly the exact silvery shade. For a man, I suppose he’s not a bad looking guy so the one thing they have in common is they’re good looking people. After that generalization, you’d never guess.

Plus, Jensen’s really laid back. I watch him settle back into his side of the booth where we’re seated and casually rub his wife’s stomach. This is while he relays the story of how they flew off to Vegas and got married a few months ago upon finding out Harper was pregnant.

“So we’re at this chapel, right? And the lady there hands us a form to fill out. No shit, one of the questions was whether or not we wanted an Elvis impersonator.” He laughs. “And the crazy part is, having Elvis marry you costs more.”

I laugh, lifting my glass to take a sip of my whisky. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“I barely made it there in time,” Cora says. “This prick thought he was going to get married without me there.” Beside me, she leans over the table, tonguing the straw in her bright pink drink, and I find it a little distracting.

“So, you didn’t have anyone come?” I ask, genuinely curious about the merits of elopement versus traditional ceremonies.

“Well, I called her grandparents to make sure they’d be okay with it,” Jensen says. “But doing that caused a chain reaction. Lyla found out and she called my sister and the next thing I know, they’re both showing up to the chapel, along with Gentry, Lyla’s husband. So it wasn’t quite the traditional elopement.”

“What made you decide to do it that way?” I ask, Cora’s straw tonguing still in my peripheral.

“I’d already done the big fancy wedding,” Harper interjects. “And there was no way anyone was going to convince me to do it again, especially while smuggling a watermelon under my wedding dress.”

The whole table laughs, and they both very much seem to treat their accidental pregnancy as a blessing, and why shouldn’t it be? If both people want it, it doesn’t matter what comes first.

“Oh my god!” Cora exclaims out of nowhere. “You didn’t call and tell me the sex of the baby!”

Harper smiles wide and leans back, rubbing the top of her bump. “We thought we’d wait until we got here because we got you something.” Harper pulls a small box from her purse and hands it to Cora, whose eyes grow big and bright. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her face filled with so much excitement.

Her hands work to untie the ribbon and then she opens the lid. She pulls a necklace from the box, her hand cupping the charm. Then I notice her chin beginning to wobble.

“It’s perfect,” she says. Cora leans over to me, showing me the pendant. It’s a hand stamped square with a little blue gemstone in one corner. The stamped letters readI love Jackson. I smile down at it and then up at her.

“I’m having a son!” The pride in Jensen’s voice is tangible. It’s no secret most men are desperate to have a mini version of themselves. And Jensen seems like exactly the type to tell anyone who’ll listen.

“Congratulations, man,” I say, holding my glass up. The rest of them follow suit and we all clink our glasses together. Even Harper, who’s sipping on iced tea while the rest of us opted for booze.

When our food comes out, we settle into easy conversation between bites. As for me, they ask about my work. Harper pokes around about my previous relationships, inquires if I’m in one now, and whether or not I’ve ever painted a pregnant woman.

For the record, I have. Only once though. Not because I don’t want to paint more, but because it’s even harder to convince a pregnant woman you’re not a creep for asking to paint them.

“Well, you can paint me while we’re here, if you want,” Harper says.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugs her shoulders, taking another sip of her tea.

“Actually, I would love to see that,” Jensen says.

“Um, you guys,” Cora interrupts. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The women he paints are usually half-naked.”

“Didn’t he paint you?” Jensen asks.

I feel my body tighten.Is he going to be mad I painted her like that?

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