Chapter 4
Drew
We’re in Carmel, the scene of many crimes, so to speak, both literally and figuratively. I’m on edge and fucking uncomfortable because I’ve brought Fable here with me. She hasn’t returned since her one week as my fake girlfriend.
Now she’s here as my very real wife.
Dad wanted to throw a reception for us at his new home. Thank God he’d moved, or I wouldn’t have been able to go back like this. It would have been too uncomfortable, both for me and for Fable. I don’t think I could have endured it. I don’t think she could, either.
The new house is amazing. Not as large as the old one but considering he’s living here alone, Dad doesn’t need some grand mansion.
He’s older now, traveling more, and he seems in better spirits.
After what happened with Adele killing herself and his finding out what went on between Adele and me, he retreated into himself.
We spoke, but it was difficult. He went to counseling.
I even went to a few of his sessions, but damn, those had been tough.
There’s a lot of pain inside him over what Adele did to me.
A lot of guilt, too, and I can relate to that.
Putting us together in the same room trying to discuss it is extremely difficult.
First of all, we’re guys. And second of all, we’re Callahan men.
I think it’s hard for us to talk about our feelings.
Fine. I know it’s hard for us to talk about our feelings.
For the most part, we’ve moved past that. Our relationship had grown stilted, but now…now we’re okay. We’re what I would even consider close. As close as a father and son can be, what with living in two different cities and both of us constantly traveling.
So in honor of our recent wedding, Dad is having two hundred of his closest friends over at his house for a small reception.
“Small” being a ridiculous word, but hey, I’m only quoting the guy.
The house is packed. There are servers milling around with trays of food and champagne.
There’s a full-service bar out on the patio and a deejay.
A freaking deejay.
Oh, and I can’t forget the giant wedding cake on the other side of the patio, a perfect white frosted tower covered with fresh purple orchids.
Wild.
“This is wild,” Fable says as she clutches my hand, the two of us standing in the doorway that leads out onto the patio, surveying everything spread out before us. “You said it was going to be small.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing, that this is wild.” I clutch her hand tight, our fingers intertwined. “And it was my father who said it was going to be small, not me.”
“Well, his idea of small and mine are completely different.” She looks around the room again, her eyes wide as she drinks in everyone and everything.
The majority of the guests are around Dad’s age and filthy-ass rich.
There are no other words for it. I see diamonds everywhere.
Twinkling around women’s necks, flashing off their fingers, glinting off their wrists.
They’re all perfectly manicured and groomed within an inch of their life, Botoxed and plucked and smoothed and fake tanned.
There are a few younger women here who I recognize. Daughters of Dad’s associates, girls I went to school with. They’re all perfectly groomed and manicured, too, much like the lawns that line the streets outside.
If I hadn’t met Fable, I would have ended up married to one of these women, I can almost guarantee it—some perfectly behaved girl who would’ve pleased Dad.
Our marriage would have been a merger of sorts.
Two powerful families brought together, a lucrative deal for both sides. A victory comprised of wealth.
Instead, I made Fable Dad’s new daughter-in-law, and while he acts as if he likes her, I wonder sometimes. I know she doesn’t always approve of what he does or says.
I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Dad is all smooth polish, while Fable is still a bit rough around the edges.
“Is all the food free here?” Speaking of rough edges, Owen stops at my side, his green eyes wide as he looks around the patio. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Owen, I will kill you where you stand if you say that word again out here,” Fable says between clenched teeth, her eyes narrowed, her fingers squeezing mine tight. I can’t blame her for being angry; we’re trying to make a good impression here, especially her.
Sending Fable a look, I reach out and pat Owen on the shoulder, though he doesn’t seem fazed by his sister’s chastising words in the least. “Of course it’s free,” I reassure him.
“My dad’s having the party for us. Celebrating our marriage, and sort of a welcome-to-the-family thing for you and Fable. ”
Owen’s face brightens. “Sweet. I need to tell your dad thanks. But first, I gotta go grab something to eat.” Without another word, he takes off, making his way toward one of the waiters walking around with a silver tray laden with appetizers.
Owen is wearing black pants that we just had to buy him since he won’t stop growing and a white button-down shirt.
He borrowed one of my ties and his hair is semi-tame for once.
Trying to be a grown-up but sort of failing at it.
My heart expands and I breathe deep, ignoring the little twist in my chest. I feel responsible for that kid, like he’s my own brother. I love him. Almost as much as I love his sister.
“We need to watch him,” Fable mumbles, shaking her head as she keeps her gaze glued to his retreating back. “He’ll probably try and snag glasses of champagne when we’re not looking in the hopes he can get drunk.”
No harm done in a little sneak of champagne, I want to tell her, but who am I to advocate drinking to her underage brother?
Hell, look at their mother. She’s a drunken, drug-taking bitch who tried to convince Owen to run away with her a few months before we were married.
And Owen almost went with her—he wasn’t going to tell us she contacted him until he got nervous and confessed all to his sister. Fable had been furious.
And also scared shitless.
“Don’t worry about Owen. I’ll watch him.” I pull Fable into me and she tilts her face up so I can drop a light kiss on her pursed lips. “You relax and try to have a good time.”
“Right.” She leans her head back the slightest bit so I can drink from her lips yet again. Yeah, need to get myself under control here. This isn’t the time or the place. “This house and these people intimidate the crap out of me, Drew. How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to say?”
“Just be yourself,” I say, squeezing her shoulders.
She rolls her eyes. “Your dad doesn’t much like me, so that’s going to be kind of hard.”
I remain quiet, snatching a glass of champagne from the server walking by. She pauses, allowing me to grab another one for Fable, and I hand it to her, clinking the edge of the glass with mine before I take a drink. “Cheers, wife,” I murmur, giving her a little smile.
Fable returns it, then drains her champagne in one long swallow, a sure sign she’s nervous. “Why is there a wedding cake in the corner?” she blurts.
I burst out laughing. “I don’t know. Why is there a deejay? Are we going to dance later?”
“Now that I would like to see,” she says wryly, setting the empty champagne glass on a nearby table. “You’ve never been one to dance much, Drew.”
“I don’t really ever dance,” I say simply because it’s the truth. I may have coordination out on the football field, but I’m not a big fan of showing off my moves on the dance floor. As if I have any moves, which I don’t.
“So, what do you think? Like your reception?”
Fable and I turn to find Dad standing before us, drink in hand, a giant smile on his face.
He’s dressed in his usual suit with a button-down shirt, no tie, his tanned face not from a spray bottle but from too much time out on the golf course.
He looks relaxed and happy…and older than I’ve ever seen him, with the wrinkles lining his face and the gray streaked liberally in his dark hair.
“It’s beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself,” Fable says earnestly, flicking a quick glance in my direction before she turns a full-wattage smile on Dad. “Thank you so much, Mr. Callahan.”
“Fable, you’re a part of the family now, so please call me Andy.” He pulls Fable right from my grip and hauls her into a giant bear hug, wrapping his arms around her tight and giving her a long squeeze. “You brought my boy back to me, you know. I owe you everything.”
My heart stutters in my chest. I’ve never heard Dad say anything like that before, especially to Fable. We usually skirt the issues rather than face them head-on.
Right now, though, we’re facing them. Acknowledging them. And I like it.
“Thank you…Andy.” She withdraws from his embrace and smiles up at him, her eyes glistening with a sheen of unshed tears. “Thank you for this party, for inviting everyone, and for including my brother in it all.”
“Owen is a part of our family now, too. Trust me, we need as many members as we can get.” He laughs, but the sound is painful. I feel it down to my bones, but I wouldn’t change what happened for anything.
Though I still regret the loss of my mother, and of my sister, I will never, ever regret Adele’s death. The woman got what was coming to her. I just hate how it affected Dad.
“The cake.” Fable gestures toward it, trying to change the subject, which I appreciate. “It’s so big. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
Ah crap, I hope Dad doesn’t take that remark as an insult. A few years ago, he would have. He would have thought it was a slam against his judgment.
But no, he’s laughing, making Fable laugh with him. “It’d better be. I ordered it from the best bakery in all of the Carmel Valley. And I paid top dollar for it, too.”
“I can’t wait.” Her smile grows. “I’ve always had a thing for cake. I have a major sweet tooth.”
Me, too. More than anything, I’m addicted to the sweetness that is my wife.
Fable