41. Aubrey
Chapter 41
Aubrey
A week later
I rap on the door of the bathroom stall and call out to Raine, “You okay in there, Boo?”
“Mm hm. I go potty like a big girl.”
“Good girl. But are you maybe all done now and sitting there watching a bug?”
“No, I go potty and watcha da bug.”
My mother said it’s normal for kids during potty training to have false alarms that consume ungodly amounts of time. Also, real alarms that take forever, too. She said patience is the most important thing, letting them know they’re doing great, so they don’t get self-conscious and get their wires crossed and start to regress.
“Did you turn into an Italian New Yorker in there?” I tease, chuckling at my own joke. When she doesn’t reply, I explain, “ Watcha da bug sounded right out of The Godfather . ”
“No, I Rainey .”
I giggle. Amusing myself at times like these, sometimes at Raine’s expense, is a must to preserve my sanity. “Yes, you are. Take your time in there, Pooh Bear. You’re doing great.”
I look at my watch. The live band started playing their second set right before we walked into the bathroom. So, according to the festival schedule, we still have plenty of time before the live auction begins. I don’t want to miss any portion of that. It’s always my favorite part of the festival, but with all the amazing donations Caleb’s sister and friends gathered for us this year, it’s going to be one for the record books.
Raine starts humming “Pretty Girl” by Aloha Carmichael on the other side of the stall door, so I reflexively start doing the hand movements from the music video on my side.
“I’m doing the dance,” I announce to Raine, before returning to humming along with her.
“Me, too,” Raine says with a giggle.
I laugh. “Less dancing, more pooping, dude.”
Raine giggles again.
“Also, less ‘watching da bug.’”
“He my friend.”
“Did you name him?”
“Buggy.”
“Naturally.” It’s totally on-brand for her. Her stuffed pig is Piggy. Her stuffed horse is Horsey, and so on.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I stop dancing and check it, thinking Caleb or my mother is texting to ask if Raine fell into the toilet or what. But to my surprise, it’s a text from an unknown number, claiming to be from my ex- boyfriend, Trent; presumably, because I’ve blocked his old number.
Hey, Aubrey. It’s Trent. I won’t bother you again after this. Just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I did to you and I’m glad you found a good guy to take care of you right. I saw the news about C-Bomb shooting Claudia’s father. So fucking wild! When I saw that, I thought, “Damn, C-Bomb let me off easy!” Haha. Honestly, getting slapped on the street by the best drummer in the world was pretty cool. Plus, he knew my name? AWESOME! It’s too bad I can’t tell the story to anyone, cuz then I’d have to admit the awful thing I did to deserve it. It’s a bummer, but I deserve the punishment. At least, I’ll always have a cool memory. Anyhoo, just wanted to wish you and C-Bomb the best and tell you I’ll always be sorry and ashamed of what I did. Take care, Aubs. I really blew it with you. PS I swear I’ll never contact you again, so tell C-Bomb not to hunt me down and do to me what he did to Ralph! Haha! Damn.
I can’t believe my eyes, so I start reading the whole thing again. But midway through, Raine proudly shouts on the other side of the stall door, “All done!”
As the toilet flushes, my mind races. Should I delete this unexpected text from Trent? No. Good, bad, ugly . That’s my deal with Caleb. One I plan to honor forever. Surely, when I show him this text later tonight, he’ll laugh about it, anyway. But even if he doesn’t, I’ve got to tell him. Caleb’s always going to tell me all his deep, dark secrets; so I’m never going to hide anything from him in return.
“Hey, you!” a female voice says brightly, just as the door to the stall swings open and Raine emerges .
I turn to look at the source of the voice, and to my happy surprise, it’s Caleb’s sister, Miranda, bounding into the bathroom in a cowgirl get-up: denim shorts, boots, and a hat.
“Miranda!” I shout, rushing to her to hug her, as Raine shouts, “Auntie Manda!”
We both head over to her, with Raine toddling in front of me; and of course, Miranda hugs Raine first. “Rainey!” she shrieks, scooping up her niece, and then we all squeeze each other in a squealing three-way hug.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp out.
“You made the Summer Festival sound better than a club in Ibiza, so I decided to see it for myself.”
I snort. “Well, Ibiza, it ain’t.” Not that I’ve been there . “But it’s definitely a fun time.” I look her up and down, as Raine dances around excitedly about her glamorous presence. “I’m loving the fit, girl. You definitely dressed the part.” Miranda normally dresses in designer clothes. Or at least, everything she wears looks designer to me. So, this cowgirl get-up is a new look for her.
Miranda looks down at herself. “You don’t think I overdid it?”
I laugh. “Not at all. You’re perfect.” I turn to Raine. “Did you wash your hands?” I know the answer to my question. I just want to hear her say it.
“I fo-got.”
“I don’t blame you. Auntie Miranda is a pretty exciting distraction.” I guide Raine to the sink and cue her to wash her hands for the length of the usual song; and as she does that, I tell Miranda all the fun stuff she should do at the festival—the carnival games, the cake walk, the contests, and so on; and Miranda looks genuinely thrilled by all of it.
“The auction will be starting any minute now, but you can do everything, right after that. The festival games stay open for a couple hours after the auction is done.”
Raine calls to me that she’s done washing her hands, and then holds up her tiny, clean palms as proof.
“Good girl. Now, let’s get back out there and dance with Auntie Miranda before the auction starts.”
Miranda leads the way, texting someone as she goes. And suddenly, the band abruptly stops playing its current tune, “Brown Eyed Girl,” mere seconds before they get to my favorite part: the sha-la-la-las.
“Why’d they stop?” I ask, as we step outside the bathroom into the evening air. But I’ve no sooner asked the question than the band starts playing a new song. One I think I recognize by its instrumental introduction alone.
When the singer begins the first verse, my hunch morphs into certainty, and I throw my hand over my mouth. The song the band is playing is “All of My Love” by Led Zeppelin. The one Caleb named as mine . What are the odds?
I look around eagerly for my man, excited to drag him onto the dance floor, whether he likes it or not. But, damn it, Caleb is nowhere to be found. I spot my parents on the dance floor, having a blast. Plainly, my father is enjoying his newfound freedom in his walking boot. But where’s Caleb ?
“Let’s dance,” Miranda chirps to Raine, taking her hand. And of course, Raine expresses unadulterated excitement.
I follow the giddy pair, still scanning the faces for Caleb’s. But no dice. That’s weird. With Caleb’s height and brawn, he’s normally easy to spot in a crowd.
“Dadda!” Raine squeals.
“Where?” I ask, eager to find him before the song ends.
“Dere!” Raine points toward the stage, which makes no sense. But when I follow the trajectory of her tiny, raised finger, I see him. To my surprise, Caleb is sitting behind the band’s drum kit, joining in on the iconic song. Oh my god . The band must have begged Caleb to play on a song, and my romantic, swoony man suggested this one!
I can’t believe this man. His grand gestures and declarations of love never cease to amaze me. Nobody else at the festival will understand the sentimental meaning of this song to me. But it doesn’t matter because I know what it means, and I’m swooning like crazy.
When Miranda, Raine and I reach the dance floor, Caleb’s eyes find mine. As our gazes mingle, he winks and beams a glorious, radiant smile at me, without missing a beat in his drumming.
“All of my love,” Caleb mouths, inaudibly, as the lead singer delivers those same words into his microphone for the crowd.
I clutch my chest, letting Caleb know I’ve received his message, loud and clear, and that I send him all of my love in return.
A firm poke on my shoulder wrenches my attention away from Caleb. I turn to look at whoever’s nudged me, intending to simply glance and return to Caleb again; but to my shock, I’ve got another surprise awaiting me. One that commands my full attention.
It’s Amy and her husband, Colin, standing before me, flanked by none other than Violet and her husband, Dax, and both couples’ respective sons—two-year-old Rocco and eight-year-old Jackson.
“What the . . . ?” I gasp out, too flabbergasted to finish the sentence.
All four adults, now joined by Miranda, cackle with glee at my reaction, as Raine beelines excitedly to Rocco and hugs him. The pair were instantly inseparable, like peanut butter and jelly, at Caleb’s party in Santa Monica less than two weeks ago, so I’m not surprised she remembers him.
Amy wraps my short-circuiting body in her arms and says, “Miranda made this party sound like the place to be, so we all came to check it out!”
I stammer while greeting everyone, and they guffaw at my astonished reaction, once again. My parents appear and greet everyone warmly. They already met all these fancy people, briefly, at Caleb’s party, before they spirited the toddlers away and retired themselves. But once their greetings have been administered, the whole group, including me, turns its collective attention back to Caleb onstage.
When I catch my boyfriend’s eyes this time, I motion excitedly to our unexpected group of visitors; but nothing but smug satisfaction graces Caleb’s handsome face, making it clear this group’s arrival isn’t a shock to him, like it is for me. I mean, Caleb looks overjoyed to see everyone. Also, to see my reaction. But he’s definitely not surprised . Indeed, his expression is like he’s just pulled off the bank heist of the century.
The iconic song ends, sadly, and the lead singer bellows, “Let’s hear it for our guest drummer, C-Bomb!”
As the crowd roars, Caleb waves a drumstick in the air.
“Thank you, Caleb. That was a dream come true for all of us. We’re honored you’ve made our little hometown your new home.” The singer returns to the crowd with a big grin. “Now, who’s ready for the auctionnnnnnn ?”
The crowd cheers and whoops its enthusiastic reply.
“It’s gonna be a good one,” the singer declares. “But before that, C-Bomb has asked to say a few words to you.”
He has? Caleb didn’t mention wanting to do that to me; but then again, he also didn’t mention playing with the band, or the fact that his sister and friends would be here today. What’s going on ?
I look at my mother, since she’s the festival czar who’s meticulously planned everything on today’s schedule, and she shoots me a look of such over-the-top joy, such intense expectation and glee, I suddenly realize what’s going on here: Miranda must have lobbied all our friends to come here today, specifically to maximize bidding on all the amazing donations they secured for the event. My god, Miranda is a force of nature. Not to mention, I’m thoroughly impressed with Dax, too. When Dax agreed to become real friends with Caleb going forward, the dude wasn’t kidding. Obviously, both he and his wife, Violet, genuinely want to forge a genuine bond here. Talk about two people walking the walk!
Caleb comes to the front of the stage and takes the mic from the singer, while the crowd goes crazy. “Hey, everyone,” Caleb says, his low, sexy voice sending goosebumps across my skin. “I want to thank you for welcoming me with such open arms into your community. I feel like I’m home, and that’s partly thanks to all of you.”
More cheers.
“To express my gratitude to this community, I’m going to match, by a multiple of five , whatever total is raised in this auction today. So, please, be as generous as you can afford to be.”
As everyone cheers and claps, I look at Mom again, and this time, the near-euphoria on her face verges on mania. Aw, Mom . She works so hard to make this festival a success, every year; and, now, she’s about to throw her best event yet. Good for her. I mean, good for Prairie Springs, of course. But I love watching Mom geek out about the money we’re about to raise for some good causes .
I hug Mom and she practically vibrates in my arms. “This is so exciting!” I shout into her ear, above the din; but to my surprise, she simply waves me off and gestures for me to pay attention to Caleb onstage again.
When my eyes return to Caleb’s, he continues into his microphone, “Okay, now that we’ve got the auction stuff out of the way, let me tell you the other big reason, besides all of you, that Prairie Springs feels like home to me now.” He points to me. “That woman right there. The amazing, beautiful, brilliant Aubrey Capshaw. Or, as I like to call her, A-Bomb.”
I shake my head, laughing and blushing. Goddammit, Caleb. Doesn’t he know the whole town is going to start calling me that now, every bit as much as they call him C-Bomb?
Caleb chuckles at whatever he’s seeing on my face. “Aubrey, baby. My love.” His smile fades. Suddenly, he looks incredibly earnest up there. Like he’s gearing up to say something deeply important. He clears his throat. Takes a deep breath. “Aubrey, my love, you’re the great love of my life. My family, my forever, my home; and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, as your husband, if you’ll let me.”
I gasp, and the crowd goes batshit around me; and a second later, Caleb jumps off the lip of the stage and bounds toward me like a bull in a rodeo ring. When he reaches me, he kneels, raises an opened ring box to me, revealing a massive, sparkling diamond nestled in black velvet, and chokes out, “Aubrey Capshaw, will you marry me?”
I can’t function. I’m too overwhelmed. But when I realize he’s waiting for an answer before sliding that jaw- dropping rock onto my finger, I scream, “ Yes, yes, yes ! A thousand times, yes!”
Laughing, Caleb puts the ring on; and with the dazzling diamond on my hand, my man—my future husband—rises and wraps me in a hug that takes my breath away, while the crowd surrounding us cheers and applauds wildly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a booming, amplified voice says. It’s the lead singer of the band again, resuming his duties at the mic. “Before we start the auction, Caleb’s arranged a special guest performer as an engagement gift for his fiancée and daughter. Ladies and gentlemen, please, give it up for . . . Aloha Carmichael !”
“ What ?” I shriek. “No. What ?” I’ll be damned, Aloha Carmichael herself suddenly bursts out of a makeshift tent near the stage and struts onstage to thunderous applause.
Shrieking and freaking out, I swivel my head toward Caleb, and he’s practically doubled over with laughter at my maniacal reaction. I quickly find Raine, who’s screaming and jumping up and down next to my mother, and we proceed to freak out and cry together.
Predictably, phones come out everywhere, as Aloha saunters onstage, waving and laughing as she goes. “Hello, Prairie Springs!” the world-famous pop star shouts into the microphone at center stage. “And congratulations to Caleb, Aubrey, and Raine!” She finds me in the crowd. “Caleb told me ‘Pretty Girl’ is a favorite of yours and Raine’s. So this one goes out to both of you, pretty girls.”
I blow enthusiastic kisses at Aloha, as tears stream down my face, while Raine screams and grips her little cheeks next to me, like one of those teenagers in old black and white footage of the Beatles. My god, Raine reminds me so much of her mommy in this moment, my heart physically hurts. Claudia loved music, and she absolutely reveled in being the ultimate fangirl for her favorites.
The intro to the song blares from overhead speakers, and Aloha calls out, “Sing and dance with me, Prairie Springs!”
The cue arrives for the first verse, and Aloha launches into singing it expertly. And of course, every man, woman, and child in the crowd—it’s the kind of song everyone knows, whether they like it or not—joins in singing and dancing without holding back.
A group on the dance floor spontaneously starts performing the famous choreography from the music video; so, of course, our small group, even Caleb, join in dancing, too, with varying degrees of aptitude. When the song ends, Caleb takes me into his arms and kisses me, laughing against my lips. And by the time our kiss is done, Aloha has already been quickly shuttled off-stage by a cadre of bodyguards.
“Don’t worry,” Caleb says into my ear. “You’ll get to meet Aloha at our engagement party tomorrow night. I rented out a restaurant in Billings for the occasion.”
“What? Oh my god!”
“I also rented out an entire floor of a hotel, so we can all hang out together after the dinner.”
“I can’t believe you did all this. I’m blown away.”
Caleb smirks and winks. “Orgasms and romance, baby. You said you wanted both, and your wish is my command.”
“I love you so much. Thank you .” I look at the ring on my hand. “Holy shit, Caleb.”
He laughs. “You like it? Miranda helped me pick it out.”
“I love it. It’s perfect. Beyond generous.” Tears form in my eyes, and I wipe them. “I need to sit down. I’m seriously dizzy. ”
“Come on. I feel a bit dizzy myself.” He leads me to a bench on the fringes of the buzzing festival, and we sit for a moment to catch our mutual breath. As we talk, kiss, and giggle happily, the auction starts in the near distance, led by our town’s legendary auctioneer, my dad’s good friend, Bob Warner.
“So, listen, baby,” Caleb says midway through the auction. “I don’t know what the future holds for my band, in terms of tours and commitments, but I don’t think we’ll ever hang it up completely and stop performing.”
“Of course, you won’t. I’d never expect or want you to stop.” I touch his arm. “You’re only thirty-five, babe. Hopefully, your band will perform for another fifty years.”
Caleb chuckles. “ Fifty ? I’ll take twenty or thirty.” He gathers his thoughts. “I just want you to understand that I love you and Raine more than I love my band. More than I love making music. More than I love performing. I love all that stuff. So much. It makes me me . But you’re both my why now, my reason for being—my reason for staying sober—to keep growing and becoming a better man. I want you to know I’m never going to do anything to fuck up my relationship with you or our family. Please, believe that, Aubrey.”
I touch his cheek. “Baby, I know that. Doing what you love will never, ever fuck anything up.”
He bites his lip. “Do you think you and Raine might join me on the road sometimes? We could make future tours and performances a family affair.”
“Sounds fun. But don’t worry, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
He sighs with relief. “Lots of musicians I know, some in really popular bands, have families now, and they’re making it work. I’ve asked a bunch of them how they do it, and I think I understand how to balance it all. Mostly, everyone told me to make tours short and always take the fam with me, whenever possible, or create plenty of breaks in the schedule, so you can fly back and forth between home and shows.”
“Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.”
“You’re willing to work with me?”
“Caleb, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”
He kisses the top of my hand. “I love you so fucking much, A-Bomb.”
My smile turns into a mock glare. “You know the whole town is gonna start calling me that now, thanks to you.”
He chuckles. “That’s why I did it. If I’m C-Bomb, then you’ve gotta be my A-Bomb.”
As I laugh with him, Bob the Auctioneer bellows into his microphone, “Next up, let’s start the bidding on the amazing package donated by our very own C-Bomb! C-Bomb? Where are you, man?”
“You should go back over there.”
He squeezes my hand. “I’d rather sit here with you—my fiancée.”
Bob says, “Hmm, I don’t see C-Bomb anywhere, so let’s get into it. Let me check my notes.” He looks down at the paper in his hand. “If you have the winning bid for this one, here’s what you’ll win.” He lists a dizzying array of RCR merch, VIP tickets, and memorabilia. A Zoom call with the entire band for thirty minutes. A top-of-the-line drum kit supplied by Caleb, its toms and several sets of drumsticks signed by him. “And if you don’t know how to play,” Bob says in wrap-up. “Never fear! The winner will get three one-on-one drum lessons from C-Bomb himself—one of the greatest drummers in the history of music, and the greatest living drummer of our time, so you can learn to play your new drum kit like the man himself. ”
Bob opens the floor for bidding, and the moment he does, the crowd reacts like ants pouncing on a runaway drop of maple syrup, which makes both Caleb and me belly laugh with glee.
“I’m surprised you threw in drum lessons. You seemed skittish about that, when Miranda suggested it.”
Caleb shrugs. “I’m home now and not going anywhere, so why not?”
I suddenly remember Trent’s text and show it to him. And, thankfully, Caleb guffaws while reading it.
“I told you Trent knew he had it coming,” Caleb says. He returns the phone to me and taps his temple. “I’ve got a sixth sense about that kind of thing. If they skitter away like a cockroach, you’re golden.”
His words make me think about Ralph Beaumont, since he was a man who probably never once skittered away like a cockroach in his entire life. As it’s turned out, Caleb hasn’t lost a moment of sleep over what he did a week ago, and neither have I. On the contrary, the only after-effect from the shooting, as far as I can tell, is our bond has only deepened and strengthened.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” Caleb whispers, touching my cheek.
“Let’s do it really soon,” I say.
“How about tomorrow? I can’t wait to call you my wife.”
I laugh. “Tomorrow is our engagement party, remember? Not our wedding. But, yes, I agree we should do it, as soon as we can arrange it.”
“Or we could turn our engagement party into a wedding.”
I laugh, thinking Caleb is joking. And when he doesn’t laugh, I shrug my shoulders and say, “Okay, fuck it. Why not? Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He whoops.
Granted, I could spend lots of time picking out the perfect dress and flowers and the rest. But as long as my parents and Raine are there—and Caleb’s sister and closest friends—the details really don’t matter to me. We can throw a big party to celebrate in LA later, whenever we return there for a visit. For now, the most important thing, above everything else, is I’ll get to call Caleb Baumgarten my husband, as soon as possible.
We kiss to seal the deal.
“God, I love you, A-Bomb.”
“I love you, too, Caleb.”
“And I promise I always will.”