11. Paris
PARIS
REX
“They’re all delicious. I wish we didn’t have to choose.” Chelsea reacted to the cake flavors. “Can each layer of the cake be a distinct flavor?”
“I think it’s rather tacky to offer so many options to the guests. Two flavors maybe, but a dozen?” Agnes gave a haughty laugh, with her platinum hair so sprayed in place it didn’t move.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Mom chimed in.
“I disagree and have to go with what my smart and sweet bride wants.” I squeezed Chelsea’s hand.
“How about this? The main cake tiers can be the champagne vanilla with raspberry filling, but we could have tiers of cupcakes on the table, each a different flavor,” Vivian suggested, once again providing the perfect balance between all the personalities in the room.
“Yes. Write it up.” I slapped the table with my hand, as if it was the final say in the matter. “We want all the flavors. Throw chocolate and lemon in there as well. Our guests will have a feast of cake flavors to choose from. It’ll be such a sugar high on the dance floor, our wedding band will have to play faster to keep up.” I laughed and tugged Chelsea’s face my way by the chin and kissed her lips. “Whatever my bride wants, she gets.”
Miriam and Agnes stewed. I figured Chelsea would be happier about this. Only I could tell something was still off, but I didn’t dare bring it up in front of the rolling cameras or suffer more of India’s questioning.
As I sat back, wishing for this to end quickly so I could get Chelsea alone again and have a talk, a small child ran to Vivian out from behind the pastry display case. The cute blue sundress she wore set off her fair skin, dark hair, and big blue eyes so sweetly.
“Mama. Me want cake, too. You paw-missed,” her tiny voice begged.
“Sorry, ma’am, she ran out here before I could catch her,” an older woman with a British accent said. In a white apron over a navy dress, she rushed after the little one like a nanny.
Vivian picked up the girl, gave us an apologetic smile, and hugged the cute thing before handing her back. “In a few minutes, mon cher. I’m almost done here. Can you be patient, please, and go with nanny?”
“Oh, she’s getting so big. So cute.” Chelsea put her hand up and tugged at the girl’s dress. The move tugged at something inside me, too…to get my bride alone in bed again as soon as possible.
“What’s her name?” I inquired.
“Paris. She’s only five and we’re working on her manners not to interrupt my meetings.”
“What a sweetie,” I said. As the nanny carted her away back into the kitchen, the girl’s big blue eyes lighted on me over the woman’s shoulder. She shyly waved, and I waved back. For whatever reason, she appeared familiar to me, but I blinked that thought away as just the sugar high overloading my brain.
Out of the corner of my eye, Chelsea grinned. The wave didn’t go unnoticed by Mom either, who was almost as obsessed over the idea of eventually becoming a grandmother as she was about this wedding.
It definitely didn’t escape India’s eyes. “Will you two have a family right away?” She asked, the cameras zooming in on us once again.
Chelsea and I exchanged loving glances, and I answered. “We’ve talked about having children in the next couple of years, but no hurry. Whenever she’s ready to, I’ll be as well.”
“Hear that, Miriam? You’ll be a grandmother someday. How do you feel about that?” India pried further.
“I think it’s wonderful, and high time someone continues the Buchanan blood line. I expect their first born a year after the wedding.” She eyed us, full of intent. Her response was nothing less than I’d expect, but sadly mistaken if she thought motherly pressure would force the next major life decision for us.
“Now where were we—oh yes. All the flavors, no problem at all.” Vivian punched more notes into her iPad.
“Okay, that’s settled. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to Chelsea in private.” Done with this, I stood, bringing Chelsea with me, and rushed her out the door of the shop with India complaining behind us. “Just taking a break, India. Deal with it.”
Only a few steps away out on the sidewalk, though, Miriam poked her head out the door, hailing me back. “Rex. A word, please.” I couldn’t miss the stern nature of her voice.
“Be right back.” I sighed and kissed my bride on the temple, and left her there so I could face-off with Mom five feet away. I was fairly certain of the topic of conversation.
“I need to know the status of the prenup,” she started, and I was right, but I hushed her quickly. Peeking back at Chelsea, I could see her head was buried in her phone messages, hopefully not hearing a word of our conversation.
“What about it?” My voice was just above a harsh whisper.
“You said the prenup was signed, but my lawyers haven’t received a copy yet. What’s the holdup?” Miriam crossed her arms and raised a brow.
With my best poker face, I stammered about it being lost somewhere on my desk and I’d send it over next week or the week after. But she always had a knack for sniffing out my lies since childhood. Either that or Richard told her.
“Ah-hah. You didn’t get Chelsea to sign it, correct?” Damn, she was good at this, complete with glaring at me over the frame of her glasses.
“Mom, look at her. She’s a beautiful, sweet woman without a mean bone in her body. There’s no malicious intent flowing through her veins, only pure love for me, and the likelihood she’ll end up another Janet is zilch.”
She flinched at the name and rubbed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “If Richard’s fiasco wasn’t enough of a scare, I don’t know what would be. Take care of it. Immediately.”
“And if I don’t get it signed?” I stood my ground. “You can’t stop me from marrying the love of my life.”
She reached up and cupped my face, adding a Tsk-tsk. “Oh, my dear boy. Love can be so consuming.” In her eyes resided all the contradictions between a loving, caring, mother but also the tough matriarch of our family. “Look what happened to Richard. Now, grow up and stop thinking with your dick. I want that on my desk asap.”
With that, she turned on her heel and huffed back into the shop. I hung my head after her retreat at first, wanting only to soothe the pain Mom felt about Richard’s sad situation. In some ways, she was right. Protection was the best defense, and I probably needed to wise up and take care of this. But I wanted my bride happy, and Chelsea wasn’t running any slick plays for my fortune; how could I believe the worst about her when I had no proof of it?