27

Brooke

Have you turned around, Caleb?” I called from the hallway into the living room.

“Yes. I’m behaving myself, baby. You can come on out. I’m dying to see you.”

My gut danced in nervous glee over attending this ball tonight with Caleb. I’d never gone to anything like it before, and hardly knew what to expect. I liked the fact the Autumn Ball was to benefit charity, and I loved my burgundy silk ball gown, but beyond those two points I wasn’t so sure. Caleb just kept reassuring me he would be beside me every second, and that everyone would be displaying their best behavior along with their frocks. The Autumn Ball was always well attended, and thoroughly covered by the media, both local and national. Caleb wanted us to attend as a couple, to hopefully end some of the fascination the press had about our relationship. It was completely nuts to me why they would care so much, but care they did.

I stepped out slowly, testing how to maneuver in yards of silk and tulle. The dress I’d found was a work of art. Deep, wine-red silk, with a sash waist and a full-tulle skirt. The skirt is what sold me on the dress when I first saw it, because it was embellished with three-dimensional velvet cascading flowers. It was a Cinderella dress indeed.

Caleb had turned away from the door as I’d requested. He was wearing a black velvet jacket I’d never seen before, and he smelled delightful. Even from across the room, his unique manly scent, combined with the delicious cologne he used, tempted me. He always looked good, too.

When he’d arrived home to get himself ready, he had to use the guest room to shower and dress, because Winter and I had commandeered our bedroom for the beauty makeovers. He didn’t blink an eye over being deposed from his domain. He’d taken one look at the plethora of girly supplies in his bedroom and bathroom, and surrendered to us without a fight. He was so easygoing about such things. Just one of the many qualities of Caleb I adored. I couldn’t imagine my life without him now. He was a part of me.

I loved him so much.

“You can now turn around,” I said finally.

He pivoted on his foot and swept his eyes from top to bottom, and then back up. “You are Cinderella in that dress. I am speechless right now. Every man in the room will be envious of me tonight.”

“Will they? And why do you say that, my handsome prince?”

“Because I am the lucky bastard who gets to take you home at the end of the ball and help you out of your pretty dress.”

“Ah, thinking ahead as usual, I see.”

He stalked toward me, something small I couldn’t make out in his hand. “I’m very good at forward thinking, baby. I didn’t make my fortune on a string of lousy predictions.”

“Indeed.” He stopped right in front of me where I could enjoy his intoxicating scent. “Do you have any predictions for the near future?”

“Oh yes,” he said wickedly. “For example, I see Cinderella being kissed thoroughly before she gets taken to the ball tonight.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile. “Cinderella likes your prediction.”

He tipped my chin toward his lips with one finger and descended. I had to resist the urge to bury my hands in his hair and go to town as I usually did. I loved seeing his hair mussed with a just-fucked flag proudly waving, but this wasn’t the time for it. Instead, I melted into his demanding kiss and let him get me all stirred up. “You are fucking gorgeous, Brooke. I don’t know if I can let you out of the house tonight,” he said.

“You will disappoint a great deal of people that way, I’m afraid,” I reminded him, even though I’d gladly stay home tonight if it were an option.

“Not me they want to see, baby. They want to meet Cinderella tonight.” He nibbled on my bottom lip.

My turn to sigh. “I hope you’ve remembered your promise to stay with me at all times. I’m nervous, Caleb.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, and everyone will love and adore you.” He placed something soft into my hand. “I have a very special gift for you. I’ve been waiting weeks to give it to you, and now is the time.”

“Oh!” I looked down at what I held, to see a small black velvet box. A jewelry box. My fingers trembled as they worked on opening the lid. I gasped. Oh, bloody hell.

The most unusual ring I’d ever seen—an art piece which had to be one of a kind. A large, dark-pink stone, resembling a pearl, set in masses of pink and white stones—possibly diamonds—to form the shape of a flower. “Caleb . . .” I breathed. “This is stunningly beautiful.”

“Do you really love it?” he asked. How could he doubt I would love this?

“Yes. I really do. Tell me about this gorgeous ring.” I was almost afraid to ask what the ring meant, but knew he’d tell me anyway because he was always honest about everything he did.

“It’s a peony—like the flowers I sent to you. The red stone is a forty-carat cabochon tourmaline. The rest of the stones are diamonds, rubies, and pink sapphires. I found it in the jewelry store window in Abu Dhabi, and went in there and bought it five minutes later. There was no question it was meant for you from the moment I saw it.”

“How did you know it was meant for me?”

“Everything about this ring reminded me of you . . . of how we met.”

“The meatball lesson?” I asked him.

He nodded and smiled. “After I went in the shop and they told me it was a peony, well . . . I knew it was fate at work again.” He took the ring out of the box and held it between two fingers. He slipped the empty box into his pocket. “Will you wear it tonight, Brooke?”

“Y-y-yes,” I stammered.

He slipped it onto the ring finger of my left hand. The engagement ring finger. I flipped my eyes up to meet his. “My whole life changed the moment I saw you, Brooke. I knew it then. It felt like the shades were drawn open, letting the sunlight in after being shut in the dark for years. That’s exactly how it felt for me.”

If I could love him any more, I would. He made gestures like this one all the time, rendering me speechless with his thoughtfulness in choosing the perfect gifts. “I love the ring. And I love you, Caleb.”

He took both of my hands and kissed me sweetly before pulling back to catch my eyes with his. “I realize you’re not ready right now, but I want you to know my greatest desire is to spend the rest of my life loving you—as my wife.”

I gasped as he went down onto one knee in front of the picture window, the city lights of Boston a stunning backdrop beyond us. “Brooke Ellen Casterley, will you be my wife and marry me when you feel you are ready?”

The swirling vortex had swept me up again and whisked me away to another time continuum—I was certain about that. It took me a moment to find my voice and to see through the veil of tears, which had welled up in my eyes, but I managed somehow. “I—I will, Caleb, my love.”

He did something I’d seen him do before on a few occasions . . .

He closed his eyes for an instant, and then looked up as if sending a silent prayer heavenward. It was a show of relief and gratefulness. My Caleb was so relieved I’d said yes.

To own such power over another person was fearsome in a way. To have the burden of their happiness along with your own was a kind of terrible, beautiful treasure.

Priceless . . . but so fragile at the same time.

MY beautiful ring winked at me throughout dinner at the Autumn Ball. Caleb and I hadn’t said anything officially, but it was right there in living color for people to see, and if they put two and two together . . . well . . . we wouldn’t lie.

Like most of our entire relationship, this engagement was a whirlwind of love and emotions with Caleb.

Jesus, you’ve just become engaged to Caleb Blackstone!

Just thinking about it felt like a guilty pleasure. But Caleb always had felt like a guilty pleasure to me. I needed to pinch myself that he was real and wanted to marry me. He was right, I wasn’t ready just this moment to get married again, but knowing Caleb was committed only to me, certainly put me on the fast track to becoming ready. When I’d told him that part, he’d beamed with happiness and said to just let him know when I was ready, and he would take care of the rest.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

I turned to him. “Thinking about how good it feels for me when you are happy.”

“I love you so much,” he whispered so nobody could hear, “and I wish I had you all to myself right now so I could show you without words.”

As usual his sexy verses turned me into a puddle of goo. Usually it didn’t matter, but right now it did. Sitting down to a formal dinner, surrounded by Boston’s ultrarich high society, was definitely not the time or place for wanting to shag my fiancé blind, especially with people watching us from all directions.

Rather a problem with Caleb’s effect on me, though. He was very good at turning me on at his will. “You’ve given me something very wonderful to look forward to when this evening is over,” I whispered and licked my lips.

He groaned softly. “You’re killing me, baby.”

MY headache decided to return with a vengeance after dinner. I was regretting the clam bisque and the champagne already. Neither were probably the best choices for me. I should’ve known better than to indulge in champagne when I’d had a brutal headache just this morning. It was so delicious, but the aftereffects could be downright deadly. Due to the hectic days leading up to Nan and Herman’s wedding and then the sudden move to Boston, I hadn’t had time to see the specialist regarding PBA. Caleb had put in a call to the head of neurology at Mass General, who was a friend of a friend—he had connections everywhere it seemed—but I still needed to set up the consultation appointment to begin the process of a proper diagnosis. It had been shelved for now, but Dr. Google had provided a little more on the topic for me to digest. I did wonder if my headaches had anything to do with my accident. Stress maybe?

Being on the receiving end of expressions of thinly veiled hatred did not help my headache any. The Thorndikes had been throwing them my way ever since we’d been introduced earlier. I knew who they were, of course—the parents of his ex, Janice. I hadn’t seen her yet, but I figured she would make an appearance at some point before the night was over. Caleb had been so stiff and cold when one of the hosts brought Mr. and Mrs. Thorndike over to meet me. I could tell their hostile reactions toward me had wound him up tightly, and I dearly hoped he wouldn’t lose his temper over it.

I rubbed my temples with the tips of my fingertips.

“Are you feeling all right, baby?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m fine, it’s just my headache from earlier has decided to return.”

“We can leave if you’re not well,” he said.

“No, Caleb, there’s still the silent auction and the awards to come. We absolutely cannot abandon the night just yet. I’ll be fine, and I still want to be taken for a spin around the dance floor with my handsome prince.” I gave him a smile. “I’ll take something for it if you’ll get me a glass of iced water.”

“Consider it done,” he said with a kiss to my throbbing forehead. “Stay right here and I’ll be back in a flash.”

I watched my man head off on his mission, admiring how handsome he looked in his tuxedo, and so full of love for him I could barely contain it. My eyes landed on my peony ring, and I felt my stomach flutter as I recalled the image of Caleb down on one knee proposing. I did love my ring. The stone looked like a wine-colored pearl—so unique and beautiful—I was afraid it would be damaged if I wore it all the time because it was a piece of bejeweled art rather than a typical engagement ring. It had to have cost a fortune.

As I waited for Caleb to return, I indulged in some people watching. It was fascinating to imagine what people were feeling or thinking about as they went about their evening at a charity gala such as Boston’s Autumn Ball. For example, Caleb’s brother Lucas was definitely brooding from across the room. He appeared to be people watching, too. I followed his line of sight to Victoria and her fiancé, Clay Whitcomb, who I’d met a few weeks ago. If I had to make a guess, I’d say Victoria wasn’t in a much better mood than Lucas was, based on her body language and how she turned away from Clay while he was speaking to her. Victoria and Clay seemed like an odd pairing to me, but I didn’t know either of them well enough to make a judgment; it was more of an impression.

Winter and James had come together tonight, but she’d told me numerous times they were just good friends. I wasn’t so sure about James’s interpretation of good friends and her interpretation being even remotely on the same page, though. James Blakney wanted Winter Blackstone with a desperation that was clear as day to anyone with two functioning eyeballs. Well, everyone except for Caleb, that is. He didn’t see it, and brushed their relationship off as very close, lifelong friends. I just nodded my head and rolled my eyes at his explanation. It wasn’t our business anyway. Winter and James were the only ones who needed to be concerned about the status of their friendship.

Caleb’s other sister Willow and her fiancé, Roger, were in another corner, conversing with Judge Blakney and his wife—James and Victoria’s father and mother. Everyone was, indeed, connected somehow, just as Caleb had told me. The Blakneys were an odd coupling as well, just as I felt Victoria’s was with Clay Whitcomb. When I’d met the judge and his wife earlier in the evening, I’d been hit with the most powerful sense of déjà vu, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Something was very wrong there. I knew it down deep in my bones that Judge Blakney was a cruel man, and that Mrs. Blakney was trapped on the receiving end of his cruelty. I knew it—because she looked exactly like me when I’d been with Marcus. I very much wished there was something I could do to help her.

It was déjà vu all over again, as Mr. Yogi Berra had so eloquently coined the phrase.

When Caleb didn’t return with my water, I decided to go search out some on my own. The pounding in my head was only getting worse, and I really needed to take something quickly.

It wasn’t like him to forget about me.

And then I discovered the reason.

Janice Thorndike had arrived.

Although, this Janice Thorndike didn’t resemble the many pictures I’d seen of her. She definitely wasn’t the stunning, svelte, cover-worthy model I knew her to be. Her face was stretched in an ugly sneer, her dark-auburn hair spilling wildly over her thin, pale shoulders. In a word, she looked enraged. Caleb’s stance looked angry from behind, if I had to describe how he appeared as I approached where they argued in a corner alongside the bar. He had his back to me, but Janice didn’t. She trained her eyes on me with all of the poisonous venom of a cobra ready to strike its prey. My only thought was to get Caleb away from her because she looked downright fucking dangerous.

“I know what you did, you scheming bitch. James told me about the fucking condoms you poked holes into,” I heard Caleb say to her. “Do you really think it would matter to me, if she became pregnant as a result of your twisted games, Janice?”

She grinned evilly in my direction, knowing I was watching and listening.

“I’d fucking rejoice if it were true, because I love her, and I’m marrying her.”

“Don’t lie, Caleb. You’re not marrying anybody other than me.”

“Caleb?” I gasped out his name, needing to understand why exactly they were talking about damaged condoms and possibly pregnancy.

A wave of ice-cold fear settled over me instantly.

Again, the reminiscent feeling of déjà vu filled my head.

My body’s recent slew of ailments and pains no longer mystified and confused me. They all made sense to me now. I’d never taken birth control pills before, so I’d chalked my symptoms up to starting on them. A new medication for me, one that essentially produced the same hormones as when a woman was pregnant.

But I have been pregnant before.

I knew what pregnancy felt like. And I understood that my new birth control pills wouldn’t have done a thing for me if I’d already been pregnant when I started on them. If Janice had damaged the condoms Caleb and I used the first few times we were together, then . . . it was possible.

He turned to find me standing behind them, shocked at what I’d overheard most likely. “Brooke,” he said calmly, “this is Janice Thorndike, someone who used to be my friend at one time. Now, I don’t recognize her anymore, because she’s become a complete stranger to me.”

“Fuck you, Caleb,” she screeched. “And fuck your English cunt whore, too.”

“Janice, meet my fiancée, Brooke Casterley,” Caleb said.

I just stood there, gaping at the two of them in utter astonishment. Frozen in place as my emotions collided with the logic of what had happened to us. My hands went protectively to cradle my belly. Caleb and Janice both tracked the movement of my hands with their eyes. It was as if we all comprehended the stark truth in the same few seconds—a brief increment of time that stretched out painfully in slow motion and perfect illumination.

Caleb faced me, then turned a ghostly shade of white. “You are pregnant—”

“Noooooo,”Janice screamed as she grabbed a champagne flute and smashed it against the bar counter.

The sounds of breaking glass and shouting erupted amid the scramble of bodies rushing toward me. I didn’t feel the pain where she slashed at me with the broken glass. I was in automatic defense mode, my goal to protect rather than fight.

Protect my baby at all costs.

I registered the hard floor beneath my back with Caleb hovering over me, his white shirt collar dark with blood as it dripped down from a wound in his neck. Caleb was hurt. I felt the pressure of his hands at my side along with a throbbing dull ache as he shouted, “Call 9-1-1. Call 9-1-1. Call fucking 9-1-1!”

I was wet where his hands were pressing into me.

It was my blood?

My blood . . . probably blending into the color of my gorgeous ball gown almost perfectly.

I tried to speak, but no words would come. I wanted to tell Caleb I loved him and had no regrets about anything.

Being loved by him was the best thing to ever happen to me.

I could hear him speaking to me even after everything grew dark.

“I love you, and you’re going to be okay.” He cried the same thing over and over again in a chanting prayer.

My Caleb cried out his love for me so I could hear him. So I’d never forget.