“Caaa-leb?”
My eyelids snapped open. “Baby! Oh, my God, how are you?” I jolted awake instantly and feasted my eyes on her. She looked terrible lying in that hospital bed. Pale and weak and worried—and so perfectly beautiful to me, I knew nothing would ever compare for as long as I lived.
“Am I pregnant? I m-mean, was I? Am I st-still?” Her face twisted into a mask of fear as she began to cry.
“Oh, God. Yes, you are. The doc guessed you’re about seven weeks along.”
She let out a moaning wail and cried even harder. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be when I w-w-woke u-up.”
Pure, unadulterated, blessed relief rolled through my body as I leaned over her and held her the best I could in the circumstances. She wants our baby.
“Shh, don’t worry. Our baby is fine, because its mother is so brave. You protected our child from being hurt. It was your right side where she cut you . . .” I lost it. I just lost my ability to hold it together for a second longer, and sobbed like a bitch. “I l-love you so m-much. I’m so f-fuckin’ sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I—I am s-s-so s-sorry, Brooke.”
It took me a while to come up for air from my emotional breakdown. It was her hands in my hair that grounded me enough to resurface. That she was comforting me at a time like this when she was the one who’d been hurt meant more to me than any words could ever express.
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Do something for me?” she asked in a low voice.
“Anything. Whatever you want, baby. What can I do for you?” I pulled back so we could see each other.
“I need you . . . to tell me . . . your greatest wish. If you could have whatever you wish for right now, what would it be?” She lifted her hand with the IV still stuck in her vein and cupped my cheek. “Be truthful and tell me what you want most in the world.”
And the surprises just keep on coming.
Not at all what I expected her to say. I understood clearly that this was not the time to fuck around by hedging or lying. Brooke was dead serious about me giving her the straight-up truth right now. She asked me to tell her what I wanted . . . and so I did.
“I want to marry you the minute you are well enough to do it. I want you to have my name and my ring on your finger, with the legal documentation to back it up. Then I want to take you away to a place that’s beautiful and warm and private for about a month. I want it to be somewhere very special, where we do nothing but make love, eat, sleep, talk about our future, plan for the birth of our precious baby, and any other fuckin’ thing we want to do.”
“Then let’s do that,” she said softly.
Brooke
December
We married in Stone Church, one week later on the second of December. Only Nan and Herman were there to witness our moment. Herman, in fact, married us. As mayor, he had obtained the proper credentials years ago and on occasion officiated the joining of two people together in matrimony.
After the nightmare events that played out at the ball, Caleb and I were both in agreement that our wedding should be exactly what we wanted . . . and what we needed it to be.
A private ceremony at dusk in the little stone chapel set along the bay with the blazing sunset hovering over everything was indeed what we needed.
I chose a blush silk batiste gown with long sleeves in French lace and no veil. Instead, I had four peonies woven into my hair, which I wore down because Caleb liked it best that way.
Caleb dressed in a black Brioni with a silver patterned tie and a vintage silk pocket handkerchief from his father. He looked so handsome it made my eyes hurt a little to look at him.
The old wooden floorboards inside were strewn with white rose petals perfuming the air to mix with the vanilla-scented candlelight, which was the only lighting.
After signing our names to the proper documents, Herman read us our vows, which we repeated to each other with nothing but love and promises forged into every word. We exchanged platinum wedding bands we had chosen together and would wear forever. Everything was just as it should be.
Caleb and Brooke pledging themselves to one another until death . . . becoming Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone.
AFTER the vows we celebrated with cupcakes and champagne.
Just one sip of the champagne for me, but I sure enjoyed the sugary goodness of that cupcake. Nan took pictures for us using Caleb’s phone, and then it was time for us to say good-bye.
“I love you, my darling Brooke. I was given the greatest gift when you came to me. Nothing could make me happier than I am right now, seeing you and Caleb so in love and so happy together.” And about to make you a great-grandmother. Nan didn’t bother holding back her tears and neither did I. Nothing more needed to be said, because we both knew.
“I love you, Nan.”