Page 23 of The Layover

Eloise pulled her hand from mine and ran down the aisle. “Daddy, I can do a cartwheel. Wanna see?”

“Not inside. You know the rules.” I kept my voice stern but calm. First time was a reminder.

She pouted. “But I’ll be careful. I wanna show Carly my cartwheels.”

“Ellie.” Second time was a warning, but it was clear to me that Eloise was getting bored. I wasn’t ready to wrap things up, but we may need to. “And this is where we’ll have weddings,” I said to Carly.

“Yay, weddings.” Eloise hurried toward the front of the room.

Raul sighed, but he was smiling. “No running,” he called after her.

“God, to have that much energy,” Carly said softly.

I knew what she meant.

Eloise walked up to the top step of the dais. “Okay. Time to have a wedding. Carly, your skirt is pretty, so it can be your wedding dress.”

An image flashed in my mind—Carly in an actual wedding dress, and Raul and I being the lucky guys to take it off her at the end of the day. Preferably in a suite a lot like the one we’d just stayed in. I shook the thought aside—there were so many reasons that fantasy was a bad idea, starting with how little we knew Carly. Then there was our professional connection to her, and the fact that she lived in a different country.

“Carly doesn’t want to get married,” I said as much for Eloise’s benefit as my own.

Eloise’s pout was back. “But then I’d have a mommy again.”

The words tugged on my heart hard enough to hurt.

“If we had a wedding, it would only be pretend.” Raul stepped in.

Eloise jutted her lip out further. “I know. A pretend wedding. A pretend mommy. It’s just fake. Please.” As she begged, she skipped down the steps, grabbed all three of our hands, and pulled us closer to the podium.

“Who do you think I’m going to marry?” Carly asked.

I should put an end to this. Say that it was time to go home, and wrap up for the night. But fake weddings were far less dangerous than cartwheels through wooden pews, and Eloise had behaved all night.

She made a broad sweeping gesture with her arms. “All of you get married to each other.”

“Dad and I are already married,” I said.

Eloise nodded. “Yes. And now you will both marry Carly.”

I liked the idea far more than I would admit out loud. I looked at Raul, who gave a faint shrug of acceptance, so I turned to Carly and dropped to one knee. The blush that spread across her face was worth the gesture, but I was going to take things a step further. “Carly Hammond, with your pretty shoes and stunning mind, would you make us the happiest dads alive by being our fake bride?”

I wasn’t sure whose laugh was more musical—Eloise’s or Carly’s. Carly tugged me to my feet. “I will.”

“Yay.” Eloise clapped. “Okay, everyone line up.” She positioned Raul on one side of Carly and me on the other, then stood in front of us again. “Wuv. Wuv bwings us togevew. I'm gonna take no more chances but to make a short version.”

Was it obvious we’d let her learn some of her conversational English from old movies? Probably.

“Do you, Daddy?” She looked at Raul.

“I do.”

She turned to me. “And do you, Daddy?” I nodded.

Eloise looked at Carly. “And will you marry my daddies?”

“I will.” Carly looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“You may kiss the bride.” Eloise hopped down the steps and ran past us.

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