I'm surrounded by parts and pieces that go to baby furniture – crib railings, nuts and bolts scattered haphazardly across the surface of the hardwood floor – and thinking I'm this close to losing my shit.
"I think it's admirable that you're trying to put the furniture together yourself, Caulter," Ella says over the phone. The phone is on speaker, and I curse under my breath as I look at the directions to the crib.
"These are the worst fucking directions I've ever seen," I growl. "They make no sense. And there are no words. Only nonsensical pictures."
"You've never assembled anything before, Caulter," she says. "You should call for someone to do it."
"It's baby furniture, Ella," I say. "It's not rocket science."
The pieces I'm trying to screw together clatter as they fall onto the floor.
"Does Kate know you're putting everything together yourself?" she asks.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," I tell her. "She's getting her wedding dress fitted, and I thought it would be nice if all of the baby furniture was delivered and I set up the nursery. Obviously, I didn't know that assembling furniture takes a damn engineering degree."
"You have people to do that for you, Caulter," Ella says.
"I'm doing it myself," I snap. "I don't want my kid to grow up helpless."
"It's not helpless to have help, Caulter," Ella says, her voice dismissive. "Why shouldn't you have people to do things for you? You tried. There's no harm in admitting defeat."
"I'm not defeated," I say, feeling triumphant as I assemble the base of the crib…and then realize I put part of it together backwards.
"Should I send Bill up there to help you?" she asks.
"You're going to send your handyman from New York to Boston to assemble this shit?"
"You say that like it's excessive."
"It is excessive, Ella."
Ella grunts under her breath. "You're not a regular person, Caulter," she says. "Remember that."
"Kate and I are regular people, Ella," I insist.
My upbringing was as far as regular as you could get, as the child of a major celebrity. When I met Kate, Ella was considered a former celebrity, aging out of the industry. But two years ago, she landed a part in a huge movie that won an Oscar. Since then, she's been in high demand, playing parts for "women of a certain age," as she puts it. Now she's on set in New York, filming a television series.
That's put the spotlight back on Kate and I a little bit more lately.
I wanted a regular life. When I backpacked around Asia for a year, after Kate and I were discovered at her father and Ella's wedding reception, that's what I had. And for a couple of years after that, Kate and I stayed very far out of the limelight, living as far under the radar as possible.
"You're not regular people, Caulter," Ella says. "That's not how you were raised."
I laugh. "That's for sure."
"Oh, as if you would have wanted a normal childhood anyway," Ella says. "My makeup artist is here. When are you heading up to New Hampshire? That's what I called for. I was distracted by your handyman nonsense."
"Next week," I tell her. "And you'd better make it for the wedding, Ella. No excuses because something more important came up."
"Caulter Sterling, if I were there, I'd slap you," Ella says. "There is nothing more important that will prevent me from attending your wedding."
I don't bother to stifle my grunt. "Hey, are you sure that you and the Senator can put aside your differences and get along?"
Senator Harrison, Kate's father and Ella's ex-fiancé, were barely on speaking terms, the last time I checked. The thought of the two of them being forced to spend even a few hours together, let alone the several days before the wedding, is insane. They'll probably kill each other.
That makes it sound like our wedding potentially is the setting for a horror film, although with the Senator and Ella there together, that may not be too far removed from reality.
Ella makes a strangled sound. "I have to run," she says. "Makeup artist. Oh, and Caulter?"
"Yeah?"
"Get a fucking handyman."
Instead, I go get another beer. Apparently, assembling furniture requires beer, because an hour later, I have the entire nursery put together.
When Kate returns from the wedding dress fitting, she stands in the doorway to the nursery, her hands covering her mouth. "You did this?"
"I did," I say.
"You put all of this together yourself?"
I shrug. "It was no big deal."
Whatever. I'm proud of that shit. And also a little buzzed from the beer.
Kate stands there looking at me for a long moment, and I think that she might hate it. Then her lower lip quivers, and she starts to cry.
I cross the room, sliding my arms around her. "If you hate it, we'll change it," I say. "Or rearrange it."
"No," she sniffs. "It's just so…beautiful."
I wipe a tear from her cheek and kiss her on the forehead. My gorgeous, pregnant, hormonal fiancé. "So you're crying because it's beautiful?"
"I wish my mom were here to see it."
Now I feel like a jerk for chalking her tears up to pregnancy hormones. Drawing her against me, I stand there with her for a long time, just holding her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kate