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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, J
anice. 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.”
