Olivia caught the eye of a young man leaning against a wall, lifted her chin and padded her cheek. The kid was quick on the uptake. He grabbed a box of tissues and brought them over. Olivia gave him a smile and mouthed “Thank you” and he retreated.
Quinn grabbed a few tissues and dabbed at her face. “Charlotte was preparing all sorts of specialty foods designed to impress.”
Olivia thought back to the Château Rayas. And Tate.
“This isn’t the kind of food I can just put on a plate and call it good.” Quinn’s panic rose as she described the complexity of the menu. “I can’t even pronounce some of this stuff. Some has to be heate
d. Some is half cooked and has to be finished in the oven or on the stovetop. Some need sauces, all of them need garnishes and decorations.” Her blue eyes lifted to Olivia’s brimming with panic. “Olivia, you know I burn water.”
And Quinn covered her face with both hands again.
“Oh, honey…” She pulled her sister close again. “I can handle anything she had planned.” Thoughts of catching up with Tate vanished and Olivia sighed with regret, then opened her eyes and told Quinn, “I’ve got you covered.”
“You do?” she asked, searching Olivia’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
And on a dime, Olivia wanted to scream. She hated this familial roller coaster. Instead of being “sensitive” Olivia pretended her sister’s question didn’t insult her and said, “Of course. That’s why you called, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah.” Now that she’d calmed down, Quinn didn’t seem so sure. “I mean, I know you cook and everything, I just…you’re so good at fixing things.”
Cook. And. Everything.
Don’t explode.
Don’t explode.
Don’t explode.
She wanted to scream “I’m good at fixing things because I work in kitchens where everything goes wrong all the time.” And “What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing with my life for the last ten years?” And “Do you listen to anything I say during our Skype calls?”
Instead, she gritted her teeth and focused on how much she loved her family despite their problems and getting that family out of her kitchen before she lost her shit.
Before she could banish Quinn a woman rushed into the kitchen—definitely one of the guests. She was in a gorgeous salmon dress with sparkling straps and heels. Her honey hair was up in a pretty clip. Her only jewelry a slim watch on her right wrist and big diamond on her left ring finger. The woman’s gaze searched the staff. “Where is she?”
“Oh shit,” Quinn said under her breath, nerves shaking her voice. “The fiancé.”
Olivia reached down and squeezed Quinn’s hand. “Pull yourself together and act like you are totally in control. You’re the only one who knows different. They can’t see inside you.”
As if the woman had radar, she moved directly to Charlotte and crouched at her side. Curious, Olivia followed.
“I’m Eden,” she said, her voice warm and compassionate, but direct. She circled the woman’s wrist with her fingers and glanced at her watch, taking a pulse while she said, “I’m a paramedic. An ambulance is on the way. Are you sure this is amniotic fluid and not urine?”
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, her voice labored with pain. “Contractions…”
“How far along are you?” Eden released her wrist, assessed her face, then felt around her abdomen.
“Thirty weeks.”
“That’s good,” she soothed Charlotte offering a smile before looking up and asking one of the servers standing nearby for a few wet wash cloths. Then to another, she said, “Find me anything we can use to prop her lower body up. We need her feet higher than her head.”
Both servers scurried off and Eden returned her gaze to Charlotte. The paramedic reminded Olivia a lot of herself and the way she ran a kitchen, which made her smile.
“Oooooh,” Charlotte complained, “another one…”
Eden picked up one hand, their mother picked up the other and Eden coached her through the contraction with breathing.
“Eden?” The deep male voice drew everyone’s gaze around to an attractive, athletic man in a suit. “The ambulance is here.”
“Great.” She took washcloths from the server and pressed one to Charlotte’s sweaty forehead. Folded another over her neck, then smiled at Charlotte. “Okay, sweetie, you’re going to do just fine.”