Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
CALDWELL
There is no doubt in my mind that something happened at the spa, which now has me pacing back and forth waiting for her to get back to the suite.
Mable asked me about Cordelia for a reason, or maybe she had more time to think it all over while not consumed by my presence.
I should have had the spa people come up to the suite. Next time I’ll know better.
When the lock clicks open, I’m across the room before she even fully opens the door, pulling her inside, letting the door fall closed behind her, making me feel marginally better.
She looks incredible, her hair falling in soft waves, her skin glowing.
They’ve covered her freckles with makeup, and a ridiculous part of me is disappointed by that.
I love those freckles. They’re her. Mable is already trying to be a person that she’s not, and I want her to see that she’s perfect as is.
But I push that thought away because she’s here, and she’s beautiful, and relief is flooding through me so fast I can barely breathe. I was worried she might take off, but that would only be temporary because I’d track her down.
“Hey.” I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. “You look amazing.”
She stiffens slightly against me. Only a fraction, but I catch it. I feel it in her shoulders, the way she doesn’t quite melt into my chest. Something is off.
I pull back to look at her face. She’s guarded, a wall having come back up again.
That’s fine, I’ll knock it down and all the others she tries to throw up.
It’s my fault she’s implementing them to begin with.
She’s protecting herself. I’ll have to work harder to prove to her that she doesn’t need to.
“Beautiful? What is it?”
She shakes her head, forcing a smile. Does she not know how much her face gives away?
“Nothing. Just tired.” It’s more than that, and we both know it.
I study her, something uneasy stirring in my gut.
It’s as though a flip has switched and I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to flip it back.
“Hey.” I take her hands, trying to read her eyes. “You asked about Cordelia. What happened? Did someone say something to you?”
She looks at me then, really looks at me, and something cracks in her expression. “I met your mother.”
The words land like a stone between us.
“What?” That’s a surprise to me.
“At the spa. She found me.” Mable’s tone is careful and controlled. “She wanted to talk before the wedding.”
The last I heard, she was boycotting it with my father, but maybe when she realized all the other people that put their lives on hold to come to the last-minute wedding, she knew it wouldn’t look good for her.
My mom has her soft and hard spots, but she does worry over public perception.
But none of that matters compared to the look on Mable’s face—the hurt she’s trying so hard to hide.
“What did she say?” I ask, dread pooling in my stomach.
“She wanted to give me a warning.”
“A warning?” I can already feel myself getting pissed off.
“That she thought you and Cordelia are, ah—” She can’t even bring herself to say it.
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “She knows that’s never happening. I’ve told her that before.”
Mom must think Cordelia is going to be hurt that I’m showing up with a date, but I already told her, and she was more than happy for me.
“She told me to come to the wedding tonight, that—”
“See, she wants you there.”
“Right.” Mable glances down and away from me. I grip her chin, making her tilt her head back, needing her eyes back on me.
“I promise you, everything I have told you about Cordelia is true. I told her about you, and she was happy for me. Pretty sure she’s hiding a relationship with her security guard, and that’s why she’s always okay with them saying we’re going together.
It’s a nice cover for both of us.” Her tongue comes out, swiping her bottom lip.
“So you two are just friends?”
“Yes.” A small puff of air leaves her lips. “My mom just doesn’t understand yet. She’s going to love you,” I reassure her.
“So you two are just friends,” she states this time, and I hear the doubt there, the way she’s protecting herself by not fully believing me. I can’t be upset with anyone but myself; I hadn’t been forthright with her in the beginning.
“Yes.” I cup her face in both hands. “Friends. The kind who cover for each other when our mothers get too involved. She’s happy for me, Mable. She told me so.”
Mable’s tongue swipes her bottom lip again, a nervous habit I’m starting to recognize. “Your mother said you’ve never brought anyone to a family event before.”
“Never.” I kiss her forehead, her temple, anywhere I can reach. “Because there was never anyone worth bringing. Until you.”
She melts against me then, some of the tension draining from her shoulders. But I can still feel it there, coiled tight beneath the surface. The doubt my mother planted. I’ll be having a talk with her about it later. Once she understands what Mable means to me, she’ll soften.
“My mom just doesn’t understand yet,” I murmur against her hair. “She’s protective; she tests people, but she’s going to love you. I know she will.”
Mable pulls back slightly, searching my face. “What if she doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll choose you.” The words come out without thought, but I mean them.
I’ve never meant anything more. I won’t allow anyone to take her from me.
I have made many sacrifices for my country and family.
Mable isn’t going to be one of them. “Every time. I don’t care about the crown or the name or any of it. I care about you.”
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. Hope, maybe. Or fear that I’m lying. I can’t tell which, and I fucking hate it.
“We should get ready,” she says softly. “The wedding.”
“Right.” I force myself to release her, though every instinct screams to hold on tighter. But maybe at the wedding she’ll see how serious I am about her. “I had them send up options for dresses, whatever you need.”
She nods, moving toward the bedroom door, but pauses with her hand on the frame. “Caldwell?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret trusting you.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond, disappearing into the bedroom, and I’m left standing there. I won’t. I can’t.
But as I hear her moving around in the other room, I can’t shake the feeling that my mother has already done damage I can’t see yet.
She is good at planting seeds to bloom on their own; that way she doesn’t appear culpable, keeping her hands mostly clean.
It’s her way when it comes to most things, but she’s quickly going to learn that Mable isn’t one of them.
I pull out my phone and text my mother.
Me: You met her. Why didn’t you tell me?
Her response comes immediately: Of course I did.
That’s all she says, which is a clue in and of itself, because I sure as fuck thought she’d be excited over this. She’s been hounding me about settling down. It shouldn’t surprise me that even that would come with some sort of strings or control.
Leave her alone, I type back. This is not a game. She’s mine.
Three dots appear, then disappear, then: We’ll see.
Me: You don’t want to push me on this one. Believe me, mother.
I toss the phone onto the couch and drag a hand through my hair.
The wedding starts soon. I need to be charming, social, and the perfect Montclair heir.
I run my hand down my face and go change.
My brother can be a pain in my ass, an endearing one, so I will not be late to his wedding.
I haven’t even met his bride. I guess it’s fitting since he hasn’t met mine yet either.
I quickly shower, not bothering to shave again. I might be a dick for that reason, but I could see the marks my short beard had left behind on Mable’s inner thighs. I plan on having a repeat of that.
I pull on the tuxedo waiting in the garment bag. Black tie, the kind of event I’ve attended a hundred times before. Usually I’d be dreading it—the small talk, the political maneuvering, the women my mother parades past me like specimens.
Not tonight. Tonight I get to walk in with Mable on my arm. I grab my phone and send a text to my dad. If anyone can get my mother to calm down, it’s him. But I also know she won’t make a scene, not in front of people.
I’m adjusting my cufflinks when the bedroom door opens.
My girl stands there in emerald green, and I forget how to breathe.
The dress is perfect—dark green tulle that catches the light, high-waisted and flaring into a full skirt that moves when she does.
The slit up the front shows just enough leg to make me want to follow it with my hands.
Her hair still falls in those soft waves around her beautiful face.
The best part, though, is her smile. It’s not a fake one. It lights up her whole face. I make my way to her, unable to stop myself.
“You like it,” I say. It’s not a question.
“I love it.” She does a small twirl, the skirt flaring around her, and then her hands disappear into hidden pockets. She pulls them out, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “Pockets!”
I laugh, crossing to her in three strides. “You found the pockets.”
“I was so worried you’d pick something... I don’t know, too formal? Too princess-y?” She runs her hands over the tulle, smoothing it. “But you nailed it. All of them. I tried on three, and this one...”
“Had pockets,” I finish.
“Had pockets,” she confirms with a small laugh. I inwardly relax seeing how at ease she is now.
I cup her face and kiss her, soft and lingering, tasting the vanilla lip gloss she’s put on. “You look perfect,” I say against her mouth. “Everyone’s going to see you and know we’re perfect together.”
“We’ve been together for five minutes.” She laughs, the sound lighter than I’ve heard all afternoon.
“I knew in a minute, so it should only take them a couple.” I kiss her again, trailing my thumb along her jaw. “But don’t you worry; I’m getting all the rest of your minutes.”
Her breath catches. She searches my face, and I mean every word.
“Come,” I say, offering my arm.
The wedding is being held on the estate’s private beach. It’s been transformed with thousands of fairy lights and white roses. The guest list is small by royal standards—but every single one of them is watching as we descend the main staircase.
I feel Mable tense beside me, her hand tightening on my arm.
“Eyes up here, beautiful,” I tell her. “You’re the most important person here.”
“Whatever.” She drops her chin, trying to hide her blush, but it’s the truth. She is the most important person to me.
We make our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations for my brother’s wedding and curious looks.
Then I see Cordelia.
She’s standing near the champagne fountain in red dress, dark hair swept up, laughing at something an older man has said. She spots us immediately—of course she does—and her face lights up with genuine pleasure.
“Caldwell!” She crosses to us, arms open, and pulls me into a hug. “It’s about time you got down here.”
“Sorry,” I lie. “My girl can make me forget time. She’s rather distracting.” I step back, keeping one hand on Mable’s waist. “Cordelia, this is Mable. Mable, Cordelia VanCleef.”
Cordelia turns her full attention to Mable. She extends her hand with a warm smile, leaning in slightly like they’re already friends. “Mable, I’ve been dying to meet you. A girl that finally snagged Caldwell’s attention. You Montclair boys are dropping like flies.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too.” Mable relaxes even more.
“You know it’s all that everyone has been talking about. The two of you,” Cordelia laughs, touching my arm lightly. “I was starting to get jealous.”
She’s joking. I know she’s joking. But something in the way she says it—the way her fingers linger on my sleeve just a second too long—makes Mable stiffen beside me.
“You look lovely,” Cordelia continues, not missing a beat. “That color is perfect on you. Caldwell has excellent taste.”
“Thank you,” Mable says quietly.
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” Cordelia says, her eyes bright and warm. “How you met and how he convinced you to come to this circus. I need all the details.”
She’s being nice and welcoming. Exactly the friend I’ve always known her to be. I wonder if she knows what my mother is up to and is trying to overcompensate to offset it. Her hand finds my arm again, squeezing gently. “Save me a dance later? For old times’ sake?”
“We’ll see,” I say, knowing I won’t. That would give another person a chance to dip in and steal a dance from Mable.
Plus, I don’t want there to be any questions or speculation when it comes to the woman in my life.
These vultures are looking for any scrap of info they can take and spin to fit their narrative. I won’t give them that.
Just as soon as Cordelia steps away, Jacob Manchester is saying hello. I introduce him to Mable, my possessive hold never letting her go.
“Wells?” Mable’s hand comes to my chest. I look down at her, and whatever I was going to say to Jacob dies in my throat. I love when she calls me that. The first time had been when my mouth was on her.
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“I believe it’s starting.”
I see that the string quartet has shifted to the processional, and guests are migrating toward the white folding chairs arranged on the sand. The sun is setting behind us, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold that reflect off the water.
“Of course.” I guide Mable toward the front rows where my family name reserves us seats. My mother’s eyes find us immediately, but I don’t look at her. I only look at Mable.
We settle into our seats, and I rest my hand on her thigh. Soon the music begins. The bride appears at the end of the aisle, and we all rise to our feet.
But I’m not watching the bride or my brother.
I’m watching Mable as she watches the wedding.
The way her expressive eyes go soft when they say their vows, how a small blush tints her cheeks when the couple kisses.
Mable glances at me when they say “I do.” It’s quick, like she’s wondering if she’s allowed to want that.
I lean down, my mouth brushing her ear. “All the minutes,” I remind her.
She turns her head, her nose almost touching mine, and for a second, I forget there’s a ceremony happening, forget my mother or anyone else for that matter is watching.
“You’re going to make me believe you,” she whispers.
“Good.” That’s the plan. To convince her that I’m her forever and that she’s mine. That I’m not going anywhere.
The crowd applauds. I watch my brother and the bride walk back down the aisle, and I realize I’ve just spent an entire wedding ceremony staring at the woman beside me. I don’t regret a second of it. Hopefully soon we will be having a wedding of our own.