Chapter 6
“Oh Maria, please set the tray over there by the window seat. I need to finish this before I think about eating.”
“I intercepted Maria.” The sound of the familiar voice had her spinning around, one had automatically flying to her untidy hair.
“Marianne.” As usual, her mother-in-law made her feel frumpy and awkward. It was early afternoon, and she always managed to look both cool and sophisticated. She was wearing a chic black and pink tweed skirt suit and had a string of luminous pale pink pearls around her elegant throat.
Setting the tray in the designated spot, she turned in a tight circle to take in the room. “I have not been here since you made the changes.”
Blair held her breath and waited for the subtle criticism. “You went with bold colors. The splash of red and blue is quite distinctive.” Green eyes so much like her eldest son, zeroed in on Blair. “It’s lovely.”
“Thank you.” Shoving her paint-stained hands into the pockets of her smock, she rocked back on her heels. “I thought you were out for the day.”
“The boys are all out.” It always amused Blair that she close to lump all of them including her husband in the same category.
She gestured towards the unfinished painting on the easel. “It looks familiar.”
“A cabin that we stayed last night.”
The woman studied the painting for a minute, before walking over to drape herself gracefully on a padded chair. Sighing inwardly at the intrusion and unwelcome visit, Blair took a seat on the stool she had been using.
She shifted uncomfortably under her mother-in-law's scrutinizing gaze. The tension in the room was palpable as Marianne's presence always seemed to bring a certain level of unease to Blair's otherwise normal tranquility.
Marianne raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Just for the evening. Well, I have some business to deal with in town.”
Blair nodded, unsure of what to say next. The silence stretched once more, interrupted only by the distant hum of conversation from elsewhere in the house. She felt an overwhelming urge to return to her painting, to lose herself in the world of colors and brushstrokes where everything was under her control.
Marianne nodded thoughtfully. “Your work has always been... unique, Blair. You have a gift.”
Blair blinked in surprise. Compliments from her mother-in-law were rare, and she found herself momentarily at a loss for words. “Thank you,” she finally managed, her voice softer than she intended.
As Marianne continued to appraise her surroundings, Blair allowed herself to hope that perhaps, this time, their interaction might end on a positive note. But she knew better than to let her guard down completely. The past had taught her that much.
She had relaxed enough that when Marianne spoke again, the shock could not be hidden.
“You’re pregnant.” Marianne gestured towards the tray that Blair had yet to take in. “I asked Maria to include a glass of milk.” A smile touched her coral painted lips at the look on the girl’s face. “My son confided in me.”
“I asked him not to.” The sense of betrayal was too much to bear on top of what they were currently going through and only highlighted the fact that there was no sense of privacy in this household. There were too many people involved in the marriage for it to stand a chance.
“He is concerned.”
“There’s no need for that.” Blair said stiffly as she rose to pace, her mind in a turmoil.
“Isn’t there?”
“No.” She turned to face the woman, dark eyes flashing. “And my husband had no right talking to you about something that concerns both of us.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong.” There was a steely inflexion in the soft cultured voice. “It involves the entire family.” She waved a hand as Blair started to say something. “I have not said anything to the rest of the family yet.” Green eyes wandered over the delicate slender frame, covered by the shapeless smock.
“You did IVF, and I would like to wager that you are now carrying either twins or triplets. Which means there will be complications.” She folded her elegant hands in her lap. “My son has reasons to be concerned about what will happen in the ensuing months.”
“Is that what he’s doing now?” She asked bitterly. “Instead of talking to me, he’s running to you?”
The woman’s face became taut and cold. “Cayden is a very private individual and has always been. I could not help but noticed the tension between the two of you.” Her expression softened slightly.
“You think I am not sympathetic to your plight. I have seen the way each miscarriage weighs heavily on both of you. He never spoke about it, even when I encouraged him to do so.”
“I suppose you are going to tell me that I should have waited.”
The woman surprised her by smiling. Rising gracefully, she brushed an invisible lint from her immaculate attire.
“Let’s just say that I admire your persistence.” She flicked a glance over the girl’s face. “He loves you. For the first time in his life, he is in love and has no idea what to do about it. Because it is the first for him, he is also afraid of losing you. You might want to think about that.” She left, her delicate and expensive perfume lingering behind.
Blair stood there, watching Marianne's retreating figure, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The day had taken an unexpected turn, and she struggled to make sense of it all. The tension between her and Cayden had reached a boiling point, and now this revelation from his mother left her feeling even more conflicted.
She walked to the window, gazing out at the garden below, the vibrant colors of the flowers doing little to lift her spirits. The weight of the conversation settled heavily on her shoulders. She knew Marianne's words held some truth, but the way she had delivered them felt intrusive and unwelcome.
Blair's mind drifted back to the early days of her relationship with Cayden. They had been so in love, so full of hope and dreams for their future. But the miscarriages had taken their toll, creating a chasm of grief and unspoken fears between them.
She realized that they had never truly addressed the pain, instead allowing it to fester and grow.
She hated the fact that he had confided in his mother, had spoken to her about their personal business. She had not wanted him to say anything until she was past the worst.
He was barely speaking to her, the weight of his anger and silence was weighing on her. It was as if last night had not happened. Sitting heavily on the stool, she stared at the painting.
She remembered every tiny detail of the cabin, the weathered logs, fading into a dull sheen of brown. The thick wooded area surrounding it. She would have loved to take a walk and explore. She had caught glimpse of what looked like a lake and an old rickety bridge.
Picking up her brush, she dipped it into the paint and made a sweep over the canvas. She had majored in education and minored in art when she was in college and had seriously thought of taking up painting for a living. She had been to several art galleries before she met Cayden and had often admired Jackson Colby’s contradictory works.
The first time she met him she had been speechless. She was not the type to go wild over meeting a celebrity, but Jackson had been her inspiration for years and meeting him in person had floored her.
But his acerbic sense of humor and easygoing manner had immediately put her at ease. It had also amused him that Cayden had deliberately interrupted the conversation between them.
“Need I remind you that I am happily married?”
“It seems that you are the one who needs reminding.” Cayden growled. “Back the hell off – she’s completely mine.”
The memory of that moment brought a smile to her lips. She had been so eager to please him and his family. When they started going out, she insisted on learning everything there was to learn about the business.
“Everything?” He had asked her in mock horror.
“Yes,” she told him firmly. “I don’t want to be sitting or standing in a room with your associates at a function, not having any idea what’s being said.”
He had been pleased that she was taking an interest and made an effort to teach her.
She knew about the five steps before she even heard it from him. The first step being the harvesting, when the grapes are picked from the vines. Then comes the crushing and pressing to extract the juice from the grapes. The fermentation stage when the yeast converts sugar into alcohol.
The clarification and aging and bottling. She had sat around the dinner table where the entire topic was wine and the making of it. She had caught up with the process and heard enough times that some grapes had been picked less ripe to produce wines with higher acidity. She had listened and made notes, much to her husband’s amusement.
Before she met him, she and her dad had enjoyed a glass of wine bought from the liquor store a few blocks from their home. It never occurred to her to wonder about the arduous process from vines to bottle made ready for consumption.
She had become fascinated enough to do her own research and had been pleased when her husband noticed her knowledge on the subject.
Wine was consumed at every meal and below, there was a vast cooling room with thousands of bottles of rare vintages. She attended auctions and wine tastings, traveling to several places with him while he attended to business.
Putting away the paintbrush, she pushed to her feet and went to get the tray. She had a life or two growing inside her and even if she was not in the mood to eat, she had to. Things were different now.
*****
“Gilchrist seems to be having a hell of a time.”
Cayden’s eyes narrowed as his brother lowered himself into the chair next to him. “What are you doing here?”
Signaling for the wait staff, Clive ordered a glass of blended scotch.
“The same as you.” He nodded towards the group of men having an avid discussion over glasses of the light table wine that was now a household name. “I had finished with my meeting early and decided to tag along.”
Accepting the drink with a murmur of thanks, he lifted his glass in a toast before taking a sip.
“I am perfectly capable of pulling this off on my own.”
Clive nodded equably, ignoring his brother’s querulous tone. “We all know how adept you are at solving problems.” He took another sip and decided to dip his feet in. “Except where your marriage is concerned.”
He was prepared for the reaction and was not surprised when Cayden lurched forward, his face wreathed in fury.
“Stay the hell out of my private life and away from my wife.”
Clive laughed softly and shook his head. “A little jealousy goes a long way in improving a relationship.” He held up a hand when Cayden started to move closer. “Remember that we are in a public place entertaining prospective investors. And I did see that pesky reporter from ‘Tell All, lurking around.
We would not want to give him something titillating to write about.” His face hardened fractionally. “That said, I happen to care very much for Blair, and she is terribly unhappy. I do not what the hell you had to do with it, but my instinct tells me it has something to do with you.”
Cayden clenched his fists under the table, his knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and maintain a composed facade. "Blair's happiness is none of your concern, Clive," he said through gritted teeth, "focus on your own affairs and leave us be."
Clive arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, but it is my concern, dear brother," he replied smoothly. "You see, Blair and I have always been close, and I can't stand by and watch you drive her away."
The tension between the two brothers was palpable, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the room. Cayden knew Clive was right about one thing - this was neither the time nor the place for a confrontation. He took another deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing within him.
"Let's get through this evening without any more drama," Cayden said, his voice low and controlled. "We can talk about this later, in private."
Clive nodded, appearing satisfied for the moment. "Agreed. But remember, Cayden, I will be watching. And I will always have Blair's best interests at heart."
As the evening wore on, Cayden struggled to focus on the discussions at hand, his mind constantly drifting back to Blair and the strained state of their marriage. He knew that Clive's words, though infuriating, held a grain of truth. He needed to find a way to mend the rift between them before it was too late.
He brooded through most of the evening. He had not called her, not wanting to be distracted by their problems. Caruso Vintage was breaking into the mainstream vintage, Table wines, the superb quality minus the exorbitant cost.
Bottles that could be purchased at a local liquor store or be seen in the local supermarkets. And it was his brainstorm, something he was working on along with a team he had handpicked.
His family was well established, had been for more than a hundred years and he wanted something that had his name attached to it. He told himself that it was not because of ego or maybe it was. But he had confessed to Blair that he did not want the position handed to him just because. He wanted to make his own contribution.
Before he met her, none of that mattered. When he started going out with her, the overwhelming love, the raw passion, the need to be with her had planted something deep inside him. he no longer wanted to be the idle rich.
Yes, he went to the office and applied himself because he had been brought up in the wine business and before he could even ride a bike, he had been taught the basics. Wine was in his blood and that was the case for all of them. They could not escape it, even if they had a desire to do so.
But then he had met her, and his focus had changed. It was an insidious change, one that had happened without him realizing it. But it was there. Before he knew it, he wanted to be better for her. He wanted her approval.
He wanted her – all of her. The fight and tension between them was killing him, but he could not get over the fact that she had gone behind his back on something so bloody life changing.
Underneath the anger, there was the fear creeping in. He could not lose her. It would destroy him.
As the night drew to a close, Cayden found himself standing alone on the terrace, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. The city's lights stretched out before him in a dazzling display, but they did little to ease the turmoil within. He leaned against the railing, gripping it tightly as he tried to collect his thoughts.
Clive's words echoed in his mind, intertwining with memories of Blair - their laughter, their whispered secrets, the way she looked at him with those eyes that seemed to see straight into his soul. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe in the crisp air, hoping it would clear his head. It was a futile effort.
Shaking off the fatigue and worry, he turned and walked back into the hotel, determined to let it go for now.
*****
‘Spending the night with my dad. I have an appointment at the clinic tomorrow if you are interested. Blair.’
He read the text message twice. It was terse and abrupt, and he supposed he deserved it.
He was hurting her and could not seem to stop. He was festering in a morass of anger and pain and was unwilling to let it go.
Of course he was going with her to the clinic. How could she think otherwise? He thought angrily.
He was on his way back home, after an almost entire day of negotiations that had gone well. Now he was going to the manor and sleeping in a bed that was too big without her in it.
Even when they were mad at each other, just her presence next to him was enough to anchor him. Before he could change his mind, he called for her number and very soon, her sultry voice filled the interior of the car, caressing him, winding through him like silk.
“Cayden?”
“Hi. I got your message. Is your dad all right?”
“He is. I decided to come and cook him dinner.”
“Something you never really get to do.”
“No!”
There was an awkward pause as if neither of them knew exactly what to say next.
“This appointment. What is it for? Just a regular checkup or something else?”
“Just a routine check.”
There was a small pause again as he made the left turn that would take him home.
“You’re staying the night.”
“Yes. Dad is feeling a little under the weather, and I want to make certain he is okay.”
He parked just outside the perimeter, somehow reluctant to go in. “Is it serious?” He was not his father-in-law’s favorite, and the man had made that plain enough.
Blair was his only child, and he treasured her, especially since he had lost his beloved wife. He also did not think Cayden was good enough to be her husband. He was probably right, Cayden thought dismally.
“I think it is just a cold and his blood pressure is a little high. I am persuading him to rest.”
“Is that something you should be taking on? Shouldn’t you be resting as well?”
“He is my father and I am all he has. Do you expect me to abandon him?” Her voice was steeped in frustration.
“I did not mean…” Sighing, he leaned back and closed his eyes. “We keep arguing. Christ, I hate this.”
“You told your mother.”
He stiffened at the accusing note in her voice.
“I did, yes. She wanted to know what is going on and I told her. For your information, it will become obvious soon enough.”
“I wanted to wait…”
“Until what. Exactly?”
“Until I am safe enough. Until I know what is happening.”
“You mean until you know if you are carrying multiples.” It still pissed him off that she could not or would see the danger she had unnecessarily put herself in.
“Yes.”
“I am sorry if that offended you, but it’s done. I will see you tomorrow. Would you like me to pick you up?”
“No. I will meet you there.”
“Alright then, goodbye.” He hung up before he could say something to drive them further apart. If that was at all possible at this point. He did not want to take a turn into the driveway. The last thing he wanted was to go upstairs to his suite, to the scent of her perfume and look at her stuff.
He had become that person. A man who could not survive or function without his woman and it was officially pissing him off. He was also upset that she had not cleared with him before deciding to spend the night at her dad’s place.
As if saying it to him would have him objecting. They were husband and wife for God’s sake and spending nights away from each other was unacceptable. But so was freezing each other out and behaving like complete strangers.
He sat there for a moment, running his hands through his hair, the weight of their strained relationship pressing down on him. The car felt like a sanctuary, a place of temporary escape from the escalating tension that had woven itself into every conversation they had.
He had trouble remembering the last time they had spoken without an underlying current of frustration or misunderstanding.
The house loomed before him, dark and silent, an uninviting fortress. He knew he had to go inside eventually, but the thought of facing the emptiness was almost unbearable.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and made his way to the door, each step heavy with dread. Fortunately, he did not encounter any of his family. He knew his parents were out for the evening as well as his brothers. He declined the offer from the maid, who offered to take him up a tray.
He trudged upstairs to their suite, avoiding looking too closely at the pictures on the walls or the knick-knacks on the shelves. It was only when he reached the sanctuary of their bedroom that he allowed himself to collapse onto the bed, exhaustion and sorrow washing over him.
Yet, even as he tried to convince himself of this, a small, nagging doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve. What if this was the first stage of failure? What if the love they once shared was irreparably broken?
These questions haunted him as he lay there, the silence of the room pressing in on him, amplifying his fear. Hissing out a breath, he rose and went into the bathroom.