I came here to get away. And to see my mother before the wedding. I need her approval, even if I know I can’t get it now.
But even as I stand here, nervous thoughts intrude.
"I'm getting married in forty-eight hours, mom," I say.
At least, I hope I am.
"To Caulter. You would like him. He -- well, he used to be immature and out-of-control, and..."
Used to be.
Past tense.
I hope it’s past tense.
I hope his days of bedding a different girl every night are over.
Do bad boys really change?
I clear my throat, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. They're crazy thoughts. Completely ridiculous.
Caulter is Caulter. He's definitely not the same irresponsible boy he used to be. He's a good man. I know he is.
Bad boys can become good men.
"You'd really like him, mom," I say. "You'd love him. He makes me so happy."
He does make me happy. And the photographs are totally misleading. I'm certain of that.
"And in six weeks, I'll be a mother," I tell her. "I'm freaking out a little bit. I'm not sure I'm ready, mom. Caulter is definitely terrified. But you should see him, taking baby classes and reading books and calling the obstetrician over every little thing. He's going to be a great dad. I wish you were here to see it."
I'm suddenly flooded with emotion I can't quite contain, and I wipe away tears from my eyes before they spill down my cheeks.
"I wish she could see you now." Caulter's voice from behind me makes me jump, and I whirl around to face him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. My voice carries an edge, comes out harder than I intended.
Caulter looks at me sheepishly, his hands in his pockets. "You weren't answering your phone," he says.
"I left it in the car. It's blowing up from social media notifications."
"You know nothing happened," he says. "That photo. The girl -- she's someone I used to know, when I was in high school. She and her friend were hitting on me.”
I raise my eyebrow. "This explanation isn't making it better," I say.
"I turned down a threesome," Caulter says.
My eyes go wide. "Well, how noble of you."
"You know I'd never ever jeopardize anything with you by doing something so fucking stupid," Caulter says. "Right? I mean, especially with two skanky-as-hell girls."
I arch my other eyebrow. "But if they were two less skanky girls?"
"Well, I mean, if you wanted to have a threesome with me and a girl of your choosing I could --"
He stops because I punch him hard in the arm. “Stop talking.”
"I'm kidding!” he says. Then: “I'm not kidding if you're into it, though..."
I step back, crossing my arms over my chest and resting them on the top of my belly. "I realize the likelihood of running into one of your ex-hookups is pretty high, given your --"
"Slutty past," Caulter interrupts.
"Your past," I continue. "But did it have to be courtside at a Celtics game on the night of your bachelor party right before the wedding?"
"I can't help it when the ladies throw themselves at me," Caulter says, his palms up, an innocent look on his face.
I narrow my eyes. "You want to live to make it to the wedding, right?"
Caulter steps forward, pulling me against him. "I would never be stupid enough to cheat on you," he says. "Ever. When I say I know what I have here with you -- and with our baby -- I know it. You're everything to me. I'd never do anything to change that, and I'd definitely never do anything to hurt you."
I furrow my brow at him, pretending to be mad, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips trailing along my cheek until he reaches my lip. He touches his finger to the bottom of my lip, tugging on it gently, and heat rushes through me.
I resist the urge to take his finger between my lips.
"I'm planning on being with you until we're old and grey, Princess," Caulter says. "I'm not going anywhere, and that's a fact. So you'd better get used to that idea. Because when I'm eighty years old and chasing you around with my cane in my hand..."
"Why would you be chasing me around with a cane?" I ask.
"I meant the cane between my legs," Caulter says, wriggling his eyebrows.
I stifle a snort. "That's a disgusting image, thanks," I say. "I don't need to think about your wrinkled old cane."
"That's a terrible thing to say," Caulter says. "I'll still love you when your vagina is shriveled up like a raisin. In fact, that’s damn poetic. I’m going to add that to my wedding vows.”
"If you put that in your vows, I will actually murder you, so help me God."
"You can't murder me," Caulter says. "You fucking love me, Princess."
"You're still a prick."
"Does this mean we're good?" Caulter asks.
"We're good," I say.
"Good," Caulter says. "So that means I can bend you over by the side of the road on the way back to the house, then?”
"Don't push your luck."
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAULTER
"Why is my bag packed?" Kate asks, looking at the overnight bag on the bed. "I unpacked that when I got back."
"Because I'm taking you somewhere tonight," I tell her.