Epilogue
Briggs
One year later…
This was the wrong time to do it. You’re not supposed to tell someone you love them for the first time when you’re both on the brink of orgasm, so I was sure asking someone to marry you was a big no-no under the same scenario. But maybe that only applied to the first proposal? How about the fifth?
The first time I asked Teller to marry me was on New Year’s Eve the previous year. We’d only been together for eight weeks—he’d only moved in with me three weeks before that night, but I was sure we were destined to be together for the rest of our lives. Love had no timeline, or so I thought.
I’d planned to ask him the night of the Little Desires Holiday Party at Leather & Lollipops, but I didn’t want to steal the thunder from Barrett and Maizie’s engagement, so I put it off until New Year’s Eve.
I took Teller to New York on a private jet, rented a large suite at The Knickerbocker on Times Square, and planned a romantic dinner at Sicily Osteria on West 46th Street.
I was more excited about proposing to Teller than I’d been about buying my first building.
The night was perfect. The atmosphere was romantic.
I ordered an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate after he said yes.
I even ordered their signature dessert, Limone De Sicilia, a lemon cheesecake mousse and had the engagement ring delivered earlier in the afternoon to be placed in the whipped cream on top.
Just as the ma?tre d' stood six feet away from our table, ready to pop the cork on the champagne, I took a deep breath and said, “Teller Buchanan, will you honor me by becoming my husband?” The waiter placed the crystal dish of mousse in front of him, and Teller smiled before he answered…
“No.”
The waiter waved the ma?tre d' away, and I sat with my mouth open.
“I’m not saying never, Daddy. Just not yet. I’ve accomplished nothing to bring into our relationship, and until I can be your equal in some way, I’m just a dependent. I want to contribute, not just take.”
How could I tell him I didn’t care about that without hurting his feelings?
In April, after he quit his job at Bloomfield’s to work on his designs full-time, I took him to Paris.
We stayed at The Ritz in Paris, and I planned an intimate dinner on the balcony of the Suite Grand Jardin after a guided tour of all the famous sights for tourists and a lovely lunch at a sidewalk café near the Eiffel Tower.
I ordered a special dinner prepared by a James Beard-awarded chef, and when it was time for me to pop the question, I reached into the pocket of my jacket for the ring.
When Teller saw the red leather box, he held up his hand.
“Not yet, Daddy. I’ve only been creating a fashion line for three months.
I have no orders yet, so I still have work to do. ”
He was right. I had agreed on New Year’s Eve to give him some time to get his sea legs under him, and I reminded myself that I hadn’t built my fortune in three months.
In July, I took Teller with me to Miami. I’d taken a business meeting there to sell one of our refurbished apartment towers so Barrett could stay in St. Louis. They were planning a wedding in October, so they were very busy.
Instead of a fancy hotel, I rented the penthouse at The Setai right on the beach. The views were spectacular. We had a private chef at our disposal, a hot tub on the wrap-around balcony, and we didn’t wear clothes a majority of the time.
We made love everywhere, and I didn’t think about how often other people had taken advantage of the privacy to do the same thing. I had to hope they had a top-notch cleaning company to disinfect everything.
One evening after dinner at a South Beach Cuban restaurant, we took off our shoes and had a walk on the beach.
“Did your meeting with that adult boutique in Clayton go well?” I wanted confirmation of what he’d mentioned on the plane down because I’d been reviewing the escrow documents for the sale of the building and might not have been one hundred percent paying attention.
“They gave me a small order for three of each of the boys’ playsets and four of each of the girls’ baby-doll dresses to see how they sell. I already had stock, so I delivered it yesterday before we left. We’ll see how it goes, I guess.” He didn’t sound hopeful.
“Yes, but it’s a start, baby boy. We all have to start somewhere.”
Teller stopped and turned to me. “I love you, but not yet. I see the bulge in your pocket, Daddy. I’m just getting started, as you just said, so please, give me a chance.”
What the hell could I do?
I didn’t propose at Barrett and Maizie’s wedding in October because, again, it was their night, but I wasn’t giving up. The day would come when I’d get my yes—I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
Teller
I pulled on the elf costume I’d made for myself to be sure it looked right. Daddy was playing Santa Claus again this year, and I wanted to be his elf, so my costume had to be perfect.
“Maizie, can you come in here, please, and help me pin the back of the shorts?”
Maizie graduated with her bachelor’s in psychology in May and was currently working as a volunteer at a battered women and children’s shelter in Eureka, about twenty miles from where she and Barrett lived.
Barrett worried that she might be hurt by a spouse or domestic partner if a woman seeking assistance was being housed at the facility, but he knew that it was something she wanted to do.
He bought her a stun gun and pepper spray that he insisted she carry at all times and hired a car service—complete with a bodyguard—to be with her when she was at Meramec Valley House.
Maizie came into the third bedroom I used as a design studio with a tomato wristband with straight pins and knelt behind me, tightening the red velvet fabric of the shorts I was going to wear with a green-and-white body stocking.
“Where? They have pockets, and if you’re going to carry the ring, you need a little room. Besides, you’re going to be in public. You don’t want everyone seeing your twig and berries, do you?”
I laughed hard. Maizie had become pretty salty recently, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. “What’s got you so sarcastic, missy?”
Maizie released a heavy sigh. “I think I’m pregnant.”
I wheeled around and stared at her. “You think or you know? Have you peed on a stick?”
This wasn’t usually something Maizie would keep from me. She had a pregnancy scare right after she started seeing Barrett, but it ended up being stress-related. She was late because of the pressure to do well in school.
Barrett had been of the “thank god” mindset when she told him, which hurt her feelings and nearly caused a breakup at the time.
“Well, I’m late, but I don’t have any pregnancy tests. I don’t want to take one while Barrett’s at home anyway, in case I am. I have to feel him out about whether he wants a baby or not. We haven’t talked about it since the scare.”
I stared into her eyes to see she was tearing up, so I hurried to undress and pull on my sweats. “I’m going to run to the store to pick up some tests. I’ll be right back.”
I grabbed the keys to the Bronco and rushed out the door.
I hadn’t left the house that day because I had a lot to do, so I let myself in through the side door of the garage and opened the double door.
I hurried to start the Bronco and peeled out of the driveway to go to Schnuck’s about a mile up the road.
Once I was in the aisle where feminine products were kept, I froze.
I’d never seen so many products in my whole life.
I saw a stack of baskets at the end of the row, so I hurried to grab one and return to the row, grabbing one of each box and rushing to the checkout so I could get back before Barrett and Briggs returned in case Maizie was having a breakdown.
Once I got into the car, I started the engine as the phone buzzed in the console. I’d forgotten to take it with me into the store.
I picked it up to see it was a missed call from a number I recognized, though not sure why. I hit the button to return the call. “The Silk Rope.”
“Hi. This is Teller Buchanan calling for Madison Roper.”
“Hold, please.”
Of course I wasn’t planning to drive and talk on the phone at the same time. That would likely cause me to have an accident.
“Teller? Hello, dear. How are you?” It was Maddy Roper.
“Hi, Maddy. Did you call me? I got a call from your number a few minutes ago. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, darling. It’s going wonderfully well.” Maddy liked to try to affect a British accent, and it wasn’t very convincing. Sort of Madonna-esque.
“That’s great. Is there something I can do for you?” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was getting dangerously close to the time Briggs and Barrett were supposed to return from their meeting.
“I want you to come by the store on Monday. I want to— How much stock do you have left after what I took from you?” she asked.
“Uh, ten more of each item you saw. If you want me to take them back, I can come pick them up on Saturday, okay?”
“Oh, darling, I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression.
I don’t want to return the merchandise. I want as much as you have on hand, and you need to find a way to mass-produce.
I sent photos to my friends and a few manufacturers I know.
Everyone is interested, Teller. It seems as though you’ve tapped into a niche no one else has considered. ”
I glanced at the passenger seat to see the bag of pregnancy tests and decided Maizie’s issue was much more important. “Maddy, I’d love to come in Monday to discuss this with you. There’s a lot to take in, and I need to talk to my Da—adviser about it. Say, ten in the morning?”
“Perfect, and bring me what you have, please. I have a check for you, anyway.”
“Okay, thank you. See you in the morning.” I ended the call and rushed home.