Ch19_EAA_EBOOK
All I wanted was one day to dress up and feel like a person again.
Beau, of course, took that to mean a night at the ritziest gala in the city.
My old firm had purchased a table at a gala a year ago and I was over the moon when they asked me to attend.
Though I expected a night of glamour, I instead got to saw through an unseasoned chicken breast as the partners got drunk and schmoozed with wealthy potential clients.
I wasn’t even sure what charity we were even supporting.
So, when Beau handed me the embossed invitation for the April Showers gala, I was a little skeptical that he would deliver on the fun time he had promised.
But then my dress came in.
I was always a “buy a gown off the rack at the mall” kind of woman, so I doubted that anyone could secure a dress for a body that was thirty-one weeks pregnant with twins.
I should have known better than to doubt Beau Fontaine.
My dress shipped to Fontaine Manor in a large white box that I gleefully opened like it was Christmas morning. I had only told Beau that I wanted my dress to be comfortable, but I squealed when I unwrapped the tissue paper to find pink tulle.
The night of the gala, I slipped the dress over my head and allowed myself a few minutes to admire myself in the bathroom mirror.
The dress had gauzy flutter sleeves, a bodice embroidered with large pink and tiny phthalo green flowers, and a tulle skirt that flowed over my belly.
Lines of varying lengths of rose gold sequins sparkled throughout the skirt and bodice, catching my eye each time I moved.
I ran my hands over my bump to smooth the tulle and cradled my belly. I rocked my babies side-to-side as I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I might have been enormous, but damn I was pretty.
Beau knocked on my bedroom door as I was putting on my last coat of candy pink lip gloss. I smelled his cologne before I caught a glimpse of him in my bathroom mirror.
He wore a simple black tuxedo with a pink carnation pinned to his lapel. His hair was perfectly combed and gelled, but his neat composure broke when his pretty blue eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but otherwise he kept silent.
I looked to the floor as my cheeks heated.
Despite the beauty of my dress, the rest of me wasn’t up to “gala” standards.
My hair was in a simple half updo and I hadn’t put on makeup other than blush and mascara since I couldn’t stand long enough to do a full face.
I didn’t know who would be at the gala, but I hoped my plain appearance wouldn’t embarrass Beau.
He cleared his throat. I looked up and noticed he was carrying a stack of boxes in his hands—two flat boxes covered in blue velvet and a matte black shoe box.
Beau placed the stack of boxes on the counter.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I brushed my hair over my shoulder and turned my exposed back to him. Though rationally I knew he was just helping me with the zipper I couldn’t reach, I still held my breath as his hands found the small of my back.
I stared at the iridescent tile floor, my hands holding my breasts in place as Beau carefully zipped my dress all the way up. His hand lingered at the top of the zipper’s track, right where my tattoo was, before releasing me.
The dress was a perfect fit, but Beau was still speechless.
Eager to break the tense silence, I glanced over my shoulder at the boxes on the counter. “What did you bring?”
He lifted the lid of the first blue velvet box, revealing an antique hair comb topped with two butterflies with marbled green glass wings. He quickly opened the second, which held an emerald pendant on a gold chain.
“Pink goes well with green!” I said with a smile. “You remembered!”
He held up the shoe box. “Those are on loan from great-great-grandma Adelaide, but these are all yours.”
Beau opened the shoe box to reveal a pair of nude mesh flats dotted with rose gold gems. My hands couldn’t yank them out of the box fast enough. The gems glittered and the lacquered red paint on the soles shone brilliantly under the bathroom lights.
I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the point in buying red-bottom shoes if no one is going to see the bottoms?”
Beau gave me a quizzical look. “Because…you like them?”
I turned the sole of the shoe toward him. “I’m surprised you didn’t glue non-slip rubber pads onto these. Are you sure you trust me waddling around without my precious safety shoes?”
He gave me a half smile. “Just hang onto me all night and you’ll be fine.”
I bit my lip and turned around to face the bathroom mirror.
With my guidance, Beau securely worked the butterfly comb into my half updo.
Then he brushed aside my hair to put on the necklace.
I sucked in a breath as he placed the cold emerald pendant on my flushed chest. The hair stood on the back of my neck as Beau’s gentle hands fastened the antique clasp.
Once the jewelry was secured, he guided me to one of the bedroom chairs. He knelt in front of me and slipped on my new shoes, one by one.
I could barely breathe at the sight of him on his knees in a damn tuxedo. Slowly, he rose to his feet and gave me an appraising look before extending a hand. “Ready, spring queen?”
I bit my tongue to temper my growing flush and took his hand. He escorted me through the house and helped me into the truck. I cuddled with a pillow and a fluffy throw blanket he had put in the front seat and took a nap while he listened to the Bored Bros on the drive to the city.
When I woke up, the sun was setting and Beau was handing the truck keys over to a valet. Another male valet opened the passenger door to help me out, but Beau quickly stepped in.
“She’s delicate,” he said to the valet as he offered me his arm. “I’ve got her.”
Beau helped me out of the truck and we walked on a strip of red carpet into a hotel lobby. The light smell of jasmine tickled my nose. A huge chandelier surrounded by dazzling rectangular crystals hung overhead as Beau escorted me across the polished marble floor to the row of elevators.
“So, I’m delicate now?” I asked with a raised eyebrow as he called an elevator.
The golden elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
“It’s better than what I wanted to say,” he replied. “Which was, ‘She’s carrying my babies. Touch her and I’ll break your arm.’”
I rolled my eyes as the elevator ascended. “Since when did you get so protective? Doctors and nurses touch me all the time.”
“Female doctors and nurses.”
The elevator doors slid open and a crowd of people in pastel gowns and black tie finery waited outside. I clung a little tighter to Beau’s arm since I didn’t see a single face I recognized in the crowd, but luckily Beau didn’t talk to anyone as we waited to sign in.
A cheerful woman at the registration table sat beneath a banner for the Harmony foundation…oh! That was the charity that bought my clarinet when I was in middle school! My inner band kid almost jumped out of my throat and cheered.
“Mr. Fontaine! What a surprise to see you!” The registration woman beamed as she scrambled for a clipboard. “Just a moment and I’ll get you set up for the silent auction.”
Beau pulled out a folded-up check from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t bother.”
Beau quickly turned away and led me into the gala, but I glanced back just in time to see the woman’s face turn stark white when she read whatever number was on the check.
As obnoxious as Beau was with his money, at least he would give kids just like me new instruments that weren’t held together with duct tape and band directors’ tears.
We parted a shimmering blue tinsel curtain to enter the dark ballroom.
Blue and gray uplights along the walls created the illusion of being caught in a rainstorm.
White umbrellas full of blue balloons hung upside-down from the ceiling, each decorated with strands of silver beads ending in teardrop-shaped jewels that glittered in the low light.
A four-piece band played soft jazz music from center stage.
“You almost gave that woman a heart attack,” I said as we weaved through the tables. “I appreciate the sentiment since I used to be a little kid with a song in her heart but moths in her pockets, but do you have to literally throw your money around?”
“Galas are fundraisers, Olivia,” he replied, “I don’t get invites for my dazzling charm and cutting wit. I’d rather just give them the money outright than go through the humiliating circus of an auction.”
He led me to the table closest to the stage and pulled out a chair so I could sit before he left to get food.
Feeling lost without one of my steel tumblers at my side, I reached for the water goblet in front of me and took a drink.
Though I didn’t expect anyone else to join us at our table, all eight place settings had a full goblet of ice water in front of them.
Beau could get a drink at the bar—those waters were mine.
I clinked my nails against my goblet when I caught sight of the little table sign. I picked up the sign that read “The Fontaine Family.”
We weren’t having a night out on Fontaine Energy’s dime? Businesses usually purchased tables at galas, not private individuals.
Beau would have danced in the town square wearing a clown costume if it gave him a tax write-off, so why wouldn’t he try to buy the table as a business expense?
My thumb brushed over the words on the folded cardstock sign. Apparently, business was the last thing on Beau’s mind tonight.
Footsteps approached and I quickly shoved the sign into my clutch. Beau placed a plate full of pasta, salad, and rolls that glistened with butter in front of me.
I glanced up at him. “You look like a waiter.”
Beau shot me a sly smile as he took his place at the table next to me. “Well, if the feds seize all my assets, I know what my next career move is. Although your child support payments are going to suffer.”