Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Weston
I walked through the door and set my briefcase down. The house smelled delicious, and I couldn’t wait to see what Sam was preparing for dinner.
“Hi, baby.” I walked into the kitchen and kissed her.
“Zoey.” I walked over and kissed her head as she sat on the stool at the island, holding Charlotte. I took her from her. “How was my princess today?” I held her up, and she smiled.
“Traumatized,” Zoey said.
“Zoey.” Sam looked at her.
“Why was she traumatized? What happened?”
“Your grandmother,” Zoey said.
“What?” my voice raised.
“Relax, Wes.” Sam walked over and placed her hand on my arm. “We were in Bloomingdale’s, and we saw Evelyn.”
“And you didn’t run?”
“Mom wanted to, but it was too late,” Zoey said.
“She was actually very pleasant,” Sam said.
“Ha. That woman has never been pleasant a day in her life.”
“Actually, Dad. She was,” Zoey said. “She said Charlotte was cute, she had your nose, and she hopes you let Charlotte get to know her. She also told me that my hair was very becoming.”
“Are you serious?”
“She didn’t have one bad thing to say,” Sam said.
“Well, I don’t care. She will never get to know Charlotte. That woman does too much damage to people, and I will not subject my daughter to it. It’s bad enough you two had to be subjected to it.”
“It’s your decision, babe,” Sam said. “Now, put Charlotte down and go sit. Dinner is almost ready.”
We were sitting around the table eating dinner when Zoey said something that shocked us both.
“I’m going to law school.”
“What?” Sam dropped her fork.
“I’m going to law school after college. I’ve decided I want to be a lawyer.”
“Since when?” Sam asked. “You always wanted to be a teacher.”
Zoey shrugged. “I changed my mind. I love the law, and I want to punish people who commit crimes.”
“Ah, you want to be a prosecutor?” I grinned.
“See, Dad gets it. Being a lawyer is a much better job than being a teacher. No offense, Mom.”
“None taken,” she sighed.
“I’ll be more than happy to put you through law school.” I smiled. “Which school are you thinking of?”
“I already sent my application to Yale.”
“Yale!” Tears formed in my eyes. “You said you wanted to go to NYU. Yale is so far.”
“Babe, Yale is literally an hour and a half from here,” I said. “It’s not far at all.”
“Shut up, Wes.” She wiped her eyes.
Zoey and I looked at each other. We both knew what this was about.
Later that evening, while Sam was getting ready for bed, I sat up, with my back against the headboard, feeding Charlotte her bottle before laying her down for the whole three hours she’d sleep until her next feeding.
“I can’t believe she wants to go to Yale,” Sam said, squirting some lotion on her hands and rubbing her legs.
“Why? It’s a great school. What’s really going on here, Sam?”
“Nothing. I’m just disappointed she doesn’t want to be a teacher.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.” She turned and looked at me. “It’s always been just the two of us, especially after my parents moved to Florida. Speaking of them, they’re flying here in a couple of weeks for a visit.”
“Okay. It’ll be good to see them again. Go on.”
“It’s always been just the two of us. Us against the world. And now, she wants to leave me.”
“Babe, she’s only leaving to get a good education. She’ll be back. In fact, I have no doubt she’ll be home every weekend.”
“It’s not the same. Am I being selfish? Be honest.”
“Yes. Incredibly selfish.”
“You’re an asshole, Wes.”
“Babe, you just told me to be honest. You can’t stop your child from wanting to better herself. She’s an adult.”
“An almost adult,” she corrected me.
“She’s a very responsible, almost adult.
You know that.” I lifted Charlotte over my shoulder and rubbed her back.
She let out the loudest burp I’d ever heard come from her, and then she fell asleep.
I carefully lay her in her bassinet. “Come here.” I held my arms out to Sam. She snuggled against me.
“I’m gonna lose her to new friends and some guy who will end up breaking her heart.”
“No, you’re not. The relationship you and Zoey have goes far beyond mother and daughter. She’s going to miss you so much, and that’s why she’ll be home every weekend.”
“You think?” she lifted her head.
“I know it.” I kissed the top of her head.
“I’m just being hormonal right now,” she said.
“Yes. Yes, you are.” My arms around her tightened. “You have one full year left with her. Now, give me those beautiful lips.” I smiled.
Zoey and Greta stepped inside Kleinfeld’s and held the door open while I pushed the stroller through.
“You waited too long,” Zoey said. “There’s no way you’ll get a dress in time.”
“The wedding is in five months. I have plenty of time. Besides, I wanted to lose my baby weight before I tried dresses.”
“Oh, please.” Great waved her hand. “You lost every ounce of baby weight the second Charlotte came out of you. Look at you. You’d never know you just had a kid. Bitch.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Welcome to Kleinfeld’s.” A perky blonde consultant walked over. “Who’s the bride?”
“She is.” Greta pointed at me.
“She’s marrying a billionaire, so expectations are high. Just letting you know up front,” Zoey said.
“How wonderful. And who is the billionaire you’re marrying?”
“Weston Castile.”
“Ah, Mr. Castile. Very good.”
“You know him?” Zoey narrowed her eye.
“Just from the news. Oh, wait. You’re the high school teacher he won a date with.”
“I am.” I smiled.
“I love it when things like that work out. So, tell me. What kind of dress are you envisioning?”
Before I could answer, Greta spoke. “Elegant.”
“Timeless,” Zoey said. “She’s an English Lit teacher. If the dress is too trendy, she’ll judge herself in ten years.”
“Nothing too flashy,” I said.
“Follow me.” The consultant led us to an area where full-length mirrors surrounded us, a platform, two elegant couches, and matching chairs.
“Sit tight while I go pull some dresses,” the consultant said.
After she filled the fitting room with gowns, I tried on the first four.
Dress 1: According to Zoey, I looked like a cupcake.
Dress 2: According to Greta, I looked like I was wearing a tablecloth.
Dress 3: According to both Greta and Zoey, I looked like a Vegas stripper.
Dress 4: Absolutely not.
The consultant brought another dress into the fitting room and hung it on the hook. “Let’s get you out of this one so you can try on the one I brought in. It’s very classy and timeless. We just got it in today. I had to pull it from the back.”
I slipped into the dress and stared at myself in the mirror. The dress was a timeless satin gown with clean lines, delicate buttons down the back, and a subtle train with tiny pearls around the bottom.
I stepped out of the fitting room and onto the pedestal. Greta immediately placed her hand over her heart, and Zoey stared at me.
“Well?”
“You look like a woman Mr. Darcy would spend the whole book chasing,” Zoey said. She walked over and gripped my hand. “Dad is going to lose his mind when he sees you in that dress.”
I could feel the tears starting to sting. The consultant walked over and placed a beautiful veil on my head.
“Now the look is complete.” She smiled.
“This is it. This is the one.” I grinned. “I’ll take it.”
“Excellent. Now, it will take about eight months for the dress to come in. When is the wedding?”
My face fell flat, and all the joy I experienced disappeared.
“December.”
“Awesome, we have plenty of time.”
“This December,” Zoey said.
“Oh.” The consultant’s brows furrowed. “I’m so sorry. But there’s no way to get the dress in before December.”
“Can’t she just purchase the one she likes, and you can alter it?” Greta asked. “You said it literally just came in.”
“No. Unfortunately, we’re custom orders only. We cannot sell right off the rack.”
“Then maybe you should have said that before we went through all of this,” Zoey said.
“I’m sorry. I just assumed—”
“You assumed? You never should assume, lady,” Zoey said.
“Well, I—”
“Thank you for your time,” I said.
The moment we climbed into the car, I started sobbing.
“Mom, stop.”
“No. It was the perfect dress. It’s the one I want. God, I fucked up.”
“No, you didn’t, sweetie. That store is just stupid. We’ll go somewhere else.”
“I don’t want to. I want that dress.”
Greta pulled a tissue from her purse and handed it to me. Ben pulled up to the brownstone.
“Mom, can Ben drop me off at Maya’s for a while?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.” I took Charlotte from her car seat while Greta grabbed the diaper bag.