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~ Cara ~
“I still can’t believe you told your father I was pregnant,” I huff with indignation as we ride up the elevator to Colin and Paige’s penthouse. Grandiose in style and décor as Damian’s, the building is gorgeous and modern, and only a mere block away. “He’s going to realize you lied in a few months, Damian. Then what are we going to do?”
That corner tilt of his mouth kicks up. “It got him out of our home, didn’t it? He couldn’t get out of there fast enough after that.”
Our home, like I live there.
Wait... I am living there.
“He’s going to notice soon enough,” I point out.
I flick a glance up to discover he doesn’t look a dash concerned.
Pride surges through me at the sight of him. Damian is especially handsome in the black suit and red shirt I picked out for him from the gigantic department store that’s his closet. It’s a Christmas party, after all, and he looks amazing yet semi-casual without a tie, the collar left open to reveal the cute dip at the base of his throat.
It felt surreal going through his clothes, searching for the right holiday ensemble. The suggestion was his, but I was all too eager to dive in. He only stood back, amused, as I hungrily shifted through all the extravagant designers I’d only been able to admire through beautifully lit display windows. It wasn’t until Paige started dating Colin that I actually got to touch the luxuriousness with my own fingers, even if she did eye me with bemusement a few times.
It was while I was feverishly flipping through his clothes that I came across the dress.
Delicate, shimmering platinum, silver under certain lighting, with just enough dazzle but not too much as to look like it should be hanging on a Christmas tree.
I stared at it for a full minute, at a complete lost for words. My first alarming thought was that Damian liked to wear women’s clothes.
That was quickly dispelled when it was obvious it wasn’t even close to his size.
The second came careening after the first. Some other girl left it here.
I was furious at the possibility. This woman’s stunning dress hanging with Damian’s wardrobe like it belonged there.
That was when big male hands came around me, reaching for the dress. “You like it?” he asked with his lips skimming over my temple. “I hope it fits. Elle picked it out and brought it over while you were in the shower. The shoes are over there. It was last minute, so I didn’t get a chance to ask what you’d like to wear. Next time.”
Next time. Yes, that was what married couples did, didn’t they? I glimpsed over to the corner he indicated.
The shoes. He made it sound so practical. They were not.
They were luminous jewels with heels worshipping my feet. Unlike the two he previously gave me, these were in another league.
And they pinch me worse than my abused vinyl sneakers.
But I love them... if only I can actually walk in them.
Which is why I have an arm hooked on Damian’s, not out of companionship or appearance, but because the accompanying safety manual highly recommended it.
“You look exquisite. You always do.”
He must have caught me adjusting my new coat. The light beige cashmere is warm and soft-like melted butter on me-and compliments the dress perfectly.
Dreamy sigh.
I’m nervous, my palms starting to dampen. It’s not that I don’t like parties. I haven’t been invited to many since I was a little kid-a lifetime ago-and I don’t know what’s expected of me. Besides Paige, I don’t really have any friends, don’t fit in anywhere besides at Love’s, and this long night will be filled with people I don’t know.
People expecting me to be normal.
“You really didn’t have to go through all this,” I tell him for the hundredth time as the elevator chimes. The last time was only a few minutes ago when he was busy giving the fake Santa on the street a weirded-out double take. Even then, the reluctant words still leave a nasty taste in my mouth. “I could’ve worn my own things and came on my own. That black dress you gave me would’ve worked too.”
Never mind my spirit-and my eyes-lit up brighter than any Christmas tree at the sight of this fabulous dress.
“You’re my fiancée.”
That’s it, like that says it all.
I supposed he has an image to maintain. I try not to be irked by the implication. “No one knows that yet besides your family.”
Something glints in his eyes as he escorts me to the opulent double doors.
A strange man in a suit opens one of them and steps back. “Happy holidays, Mr. Delevan, Ms. Candlewood. Mr. Kutter and Ms. Zine are pleased and honored you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
Damian ushers me inside first. A good thing because I’m left gaping at the sheer, bright splendidness. Small, white twinkling lights as far as the eye can see to rival the night sky. A radiant, lavish tree that must be no less than fifteen feet soars to the high ceiling, teasing the air with its fresh pine scent. And cinnamon. Something sugary.
There must be close to fifty people within my eyesight. Pretty holiday dresses swirl. Bright, joyful laughter and chatter. Platters of food being offered by smiling, immaculately groomed attendants.
“Wow,” I breathe, truly captivated. I’ve visited Paige before, have basked in the glorious home she shares with Colin, but this is like nothing I’ve seen. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Must’ve been Paige’s idea. Colin doesn’t usually give two shits about holiday décor.” Damian steps behind me to help me out of my coat. “It is something, though.”
I turn in time to see him handing it and his own to the doorman. “Where’s he taking those?” I ask suspiciously.
Damian chuckles. “Coat room.”
Right. It would be just like rich people to designate an entire room to outerwear.
“Cara.”
Paige is hurrying over, fingers pinching up her long, glittery, vintage black and white gown as she zig-zags around others to get to us. The hostess is as stunning as the penthouse, with her dark hair pinned to one side to fall over one shoulder.
“Look at you,” she squeals with delight, bringing me close for a body-swaying hug. “I love that dress.”
I can’t help but squeal with her. “I know! It looks great on me.”
At least the instant red on my cheeks matches the season. I guess I didn’t mind too much Damian buying this dress.
Paige only laughs as she agrees. “For sure.” Then she’s stepping back and embracing Damian, who looks only a little taken aback by the gesture. “I’m so glad you guys are here. Come on.” She hooks one arm through mine and one through Damian’s. “Let’s get some food.”
Damian is glancing around. “Where’s Colin?”
“He’s with Rome. Something about a hotshot producer expected to be at opening night of his show. They’re on a quick call in the study.”
My feet falter. “Rome’s here?” Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be at his sister’s holiday party?
Just like that, my palms are flooding.
“Paige.” An older woman calls out as she approaches. “Paige. What a great party. I just adore what you’ve done with the place.”
Pausing, Paige releases us for make-believe cheek grazes before introducing her to me. Apparently, Damian already knows Mrs. Balthazar.
Thoughtful, the older woman’s perfectly coiffed head tilts. “You’re the fiancée,” she exclaims to me. “I wouldn’t believe it if I’m not seeing it with my own eyes. I never thought anyone would ever-and I mean ever-be able to land Damian Delevan.”
My shocked gaze flies to Damian’s. How did she know?
The deliberate passive face hints that he was fully anticipating this.
“Oh, don’t be shy, my dear. Let’s see the ring.”
Paige slants me a sympathetic look. Had she known too?
More confused than ever, auto pilot drives my hesitant hand up. A smidgen, really, but it’s promptly snapped up with expert precision. Mrs. Balthazar squints over my slack fingers.
“Did you lose the stone?”
I frown over her bent head. “I don’t think so.”
Even Paige is tipping in for a closer inspection. Two perplexed heads peer over my raised hand.
Paige is the first to break into an overly encouraging smile. “It’s cute.”
Cute? Are diamonds supposed to be cute?
Mrs. Balthazar briefly sends the nasty-eye to Damian before blandly saying to me, “It’s lovely, dear.”
The words don’t match the glare she’s investing on Damian.
“It was what Cara wanted,” he says in defense, shrugging a shoulder. “She has small hands.”
Going by Paige’s disgusted glower at him, that must not have been the right answer.
I consider the dainty trinket. It flashes under the many tireless lights, small yet brilliant. Simple and sweet, the ring had caught my eye, and I thought it was adequate.
My muscles tense up even more. Maybe engagement rings aren’t supposed to be just adequate? Maybe this isn’t normal.
“I think I’d like some champagne,” I announce to Damian and anyone within earshot. Hopefully, that will divert attention from the disappointing suspicion I picked the wrong ring.
Damian looks relieved at the reprieve and quickly excuses himself. I catch Paige rolling her eyes before saying something to Mrs. Balthazar. She pulls me aside near the vast windows and away from the center of the crowd.
Soft, winking lights highlight Paige’s pretty but concerned features. “Cara, what is going on?”
My shoulders droop. “I thought it was adequate. I had no idea. I’d never been to a jewelry store before.”
“What?” She frowns in puzzlement and shakes her head. “I mean with Damian. I can’t believe you’re engaged.”
She and me both. “It sort of just happened.”
Her mammoth engagement ring flashes when she lifts her hand onto my arm. Patiently, she looks at me with care and disquiet. “Do you want to marry him?”
I wish I knew. “I’ve never thought about marriage until now. I guess I always figured I would always be alone. How did you know you wanted to marry Colin?”
Her features soften, turning misty. “Because I want to wake up next to him every day.” No hesitation. No deliberation. “Because I can’t imagine anyone else I want to share the little moments with. Because he makes me feel alive and experimental and makes me laugh and angry and frustrated and cherished.” She has to stop to drag in a breath. “Whew, that was just to start.” Her head tips closer so no one can overhear. “How do you feel about Damian?”
“Confused.” Like Paige, no hesitation, no deliberation. “Like I want to smash a pie over his gorgeous head and eat it off him. Scared. I don’t trust anyone or anything easily, so how can I trust what I’m feeling?” I add, finally voicing it out loud what’s been eating at me for weeks. “I don’t know what I’m doing with him half the time, the other half I just want to curl up with him for days and days. Is that weird?”
“Oh, Cara.” Her expression conveys that she understands, except I don’t understand, so how can she? “That’s normal.”
Normal. Huh.
“I don’t know what normal is,” I admit in a small voice.
“Normal is whatever is true to you. Did it feel right when he proposed to you?”
My brows pull at that. “Proposed?”
“Yeah.” She looks at me oddly. “You know, when he asked you to marry him?”
“Well... he didn’t ask. He kind of just said we were.”
The hazel eyes grow. “He what?”
I nod. “It’s okay. I didn’t agree at first, but it makes sense.”
“Makes sense?” she repeats incredulously. Her bulging eyes about take over the party. One blink and there’d be a blizzard. “Cara. Oh my God, Cara. You can’t. You can’t marry Damian.”
I can’t help the deepening of my frown. “Why not?”
“Because you don’t love him.”
I don’t know that either. What’s love? How would I know if I loved him?
“He said he cared about me, and arranged marriages are more successful than ones based on love. I guess that makes sense.” I hesitate, suddenly not sure. It made sense when Damian said it. “Doesn’t it?”
“We’re not in some medieval era. Who the hell is doing the arranging?” With a fuming growl, she half turns and snatches something from a nearby table. “I’ll medieval his ass,” she declares while gesturing riotously with a spoon. Her gaze darts to someone over my shoulder, her entire expression promptly lighting up. “Hi, baby. Everything okay?”
The second he’s close enough, Colin immediately twins with Paige. “All good. I was looking for you.” Without comment or question, he casually pries the makeshift weapon from Paige’s power grip. “Hey, Cara.”
“Hi, Colin.” I can’t help the embarrassed flush creeping over my skin. Every time I look at Colin, I see dripping red cherry pie on the top of his head. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“We’re glad you’re here.”
Two sets of eyes look over. Instinctively, I follow.
To Rome.
“Cara.”
He says my name like he means it, like I’m the only person in this crowded penthouse who owns one. Intimate and knowing. Daring me to break more promises.
Except we never made any promises to each other.
I’ve always appreciated his face. He doesn’t try to hide his emotions, his striking expressions made for stage. It’s grave now like I’ve never seen it before.
My stomach tightens with grief and guilt. “Rome.” I attempt a smile, even if it feels wooden and flat. “Merry Christmas.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here, what with your extravagant love life all over social media. Here I thought the public scene wasn’t for you.” Hazel eyes bore into mine, though he remains painfully friendly. “I guess it was me that wasn’t for you.”
“Come on, Paige.” Colin’s voice penetrates as though from afar. “Let’s go greet the new arrivals.”
I’m shaking my head, my focus reduced to the sole simmering man set on speaking his mind. “What social media? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You could’ve just told me the truth.”
“The tru-”
“You agreed to marry another man weeks after dumping me.” He stops, inhaling deeply to seemingly gather himself. “How long, Cara?”
“I don’t-”
“How long?” he demands.
How long had I been seeing Damian behind his back. That’s what Rome is demanding to know. There was none of that, but Rome wouldn’t understand, and I don’t know how to begin to explain it.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Naturally,” he bites out. “I thought we were more than that, but I guess the joke’s on me.” An ugly, jagged sound escapes out of his throat. “Have a nice life, Cara.” At that, he twists away, angrily sidestepping people on his way to the front door.
“Rome!”
I’m after him before I can think about it. I need to explain, need him to know I hadn’t set out to hurt him. He knows I don’t do social media. What was he talking about?
His long, frantic legs eat up the ground, weaving in between laughter and animated prattles. The stupid heels are a hazard, and I’m wildly tottering and hastening at the same time. Bodies get in my way. I have to twist about to try to grab a glimpse of him. From the corner of my eye, I catch Paige urgently setting aside her drink, ready to go after her brother, but Colin stills her. He says something I can’t possibly hear before calmly trailing in Rome’s direction.
A hand snags me and yanks me against a solid chest. Strong arms come around me, trapping me in. An onlooker might think we’re dancing, except our feet aren’t moving.
“You are not chasing after him like some love-starved fool.”