Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I see that you and lover boy made up.” Joan took a long sip of her Red Bull, like she needed more caffeine.
I sipped on lemon water, enjoying the reprieve of fans and cameras. Joan and I were sitting on the floor in a corner, hiding out in the room where my panel about self-publishing versus traditional publishing was going to be held in a couple of hours. Only the panelists and organizers were allowed in until thirty minutes before it began.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
She waved her hand up and down me. “Are you kidding me? You have that makeup-sex glow and there’s nothing fake about your smile.”
I neither confirmed nor denied but gave her a smile that said it all.
She laughed and nudged me. “It’s about time. You two are good for each other.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Just tell me you got some inspiration for some sexy material last night to finish your book.” She wagged her brows.
I rolled my eyes at her.
“Don’t think I don’t know who you’ve based Hunter and Laine on. Their chemistry is hot, hot, hot, like some other couple I know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I gave her a deceitful grin. “But I know how the book is supposed to end now.”
“I’m assuming it will be a happy one.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I teased her.
She took another swig of her liquid caffeine. “By the way, where is lover boy this morning?”
“That’s a good question. He said he had to run an errand.”
“What kind?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “He wouldn’t say.”
“He’s probably out buying a baby boutique.”
“He’s really cute about it all, but I don’t think so. We both want to keep it to ourselves for a while.” Not to say he wasn’t already obsessing over it. That’s all he wanted to talk about last night, well, when we weren’t making up. He was ready to talk about names. No surprise his list came from the bible since his family had some weird obsession with choosing “Christian” names. I wasn’t against it, but I told him the name had to really speak to me, so he was going to have his work cut out for him. He looked forward to the challenge.
“Good luck with that, kid.”
“Keeping secrets isn’t really an option anymore, is it?”
She patted my cheek. “I’m afraid not.”
“Speaking of secrets, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Lucas?”
She turned from me and set her drink down. “No.”
“Okay. But I don’t know how I can sign that contract now, not knowing if things might get ugly between my lawyer and publisher.”
She whipped her head toward me. “My, my, my, Del, you are devious. I like it. Hell, I’m even proud of you, but it doesn’t work on me. I’m the queen and will not be dethroned.”
“That’s too bad. I know how much those Upper East Side townhomes go for.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t my only client, kid.”
“But I’m your favorite.”
Her face softened uncharacteristically. “You’re more than a client to me, Del.”
I wasn’t expecting that from her at all. I took her hand. “I’m here for you.”
She squeezed my hand with her razor-sharp red nails. “You’re a good kid. You make me wish I’d had one.”
“With Lucas?”
She let out a heavy sigh while staring out into the empty rows of chairs. “Yes.”
“So why didn’t you?”
She thought for a moment. “He had his life all mapped out and I was a detour he didn’t expect. And every time I thought I would be his final destination, he had one more career achievement he had to reach before he wanted to settle down. First it was partner, then he made partner and the ring I expected never came. Next it was starting his own firm. The list continued, and each time he gave me the excuse that he was only doing it for our future. But the future always became the past and I always took a backseat. And as you know, I like to do the driving, so I left him in the dust.”
“And now?”
She shook herself out of her melancholy. “And now what?”
“He obviously wishes things were different.”
“It’s too late. He had his chance.”
I pulled down her turtleneck to see Lucas’s handiwork. “Are you sure about that?”
She batted away my hand. “I’m not going down the same road with him again only to be left on the curbside.”
“So why don’t you drive this time and take the fast lane on the highway?”
“That’s a good line, kid; you can use it in a book. But this is real life.”
I took her hand back. “Yes, it is, so why waste it being apart from the person you . . . love?”
She leaned back. “I didn’t say I was in love with him.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You know, you’re a brat, kid.”
I rested my head on her shoulder and laughed.
She kissed the top of my head. “You better sign that damn contract now.”
“We’ll see.” Peter and I had yet to discuss it in detail.
~*~
My Peter was gone for quite a while and refused to tell me where he’d been. Not like I was worried. He was the kind of guy that felt uncomfortable walking into a bar. He was also being overly attentive, but I knew that was because we were still in the making-up phase, which we had never really had to do, but we were finding out how much fun it was. That, and he really dug my vampy ballgown. As in, he couldn’t keep his hands off me and I finally had to wear my hair down because his fingers were very busy. Not that I didn’t want to accost him in his dark suit and tie, but I had to make my appearance to keep more articles from being written speculating why I fainted. No, I wasn’t in rehab for my nonexistent alcohol addiction, thank you very much.
He settled for making out in the elevator on our way down to the Sweet and Sexy Ball, until other people decided they needed to get on. It was still weird to see how happy people were when they were in my presence, like it was an honor. I gave them their money’s worth by smiling and making sure my hand landed on Peter’s butt when we exited the elevator. Peter blushed, but all our fellow elevator patrons laughed. It’s how I had to cope with fame. I had to be myself. And I really liked my husband’s butt, especially in his suit.
Peter and I walked hand in hand into the over-the-top ball complete with a balloon archway, disco lights, and a million rhinestones. Someone apparently was bedazzler happy. I imagined this was what prom looked like. I wouldn’t know, as I protested it due to the dress code for girls while there was none for boys.
Upon entering, I was immediately swooped up by the publicist. “Oh great, you’re here. We need you to come have your picture taken with Hunter Black.”
His name wasn’t Hunter, it was Ralph, which for some reason always made me laugh in my head. Probably because the model looked nothing like a Ralph. He looked more like a Jax or a Nick. No matter his name, there was already a crowd of women pawing and purring at him. They could have the model. The real Hunter was with me.
Ralph wasn’t the only cover model there. At least he wasn’t a Fabio wannabe like some of the other ones. Not like the women there cared—each of the models were being fawned over. It was embarrassing. You would have thought this was a Chippendales event. There was actual money being shoved down these men’s pants. The models didn’t seem to mind.
Poor Peter stood by with his eyes wide and glazed over like he’d entered Satan’s realm.
I did my part by taking picture after picture with Ralph. Then it was time for me to sit at LH Ink’s large booth—with my picture in the sexy sweater taken by Simon displayed prominently—and sign books until my hand cramped, and take pictures with fans until my face permanently froze. Did I mention I was still nauseous and sucking on ginger drops? Though I did feel better now with Peter by my side. He was relatively happy, or at least dealing with all the attention. For most of the night, he stood behind me in the background, diligently watching over me and making sure I had lemon water to drink and bathroom breaks. For something the size of a pea, the baby sure put some pressure on my bladder.
Toward the end of the evening, Peter surprised me. He had gotten in the book signing line. When he showed up in front of me I tilted my head, confused. “Do you want a signed copy?” I teased.
He shook his head no in this slow, alluring way. It was enough to make some butterflies take flight.
“What do you want, then?”
He held out his hand just as our ridiculous song began to play. We really needed to come up with something besides “Rock With You.”
“Dance with me.”
“Here?”
He nodded.
“In front of everyone?” We had never danced in public. There was a reason for that. Peter didn’t dance well, and I mainly didn’t as a matter of principle.
He wasn’t taking no for answer. “Dance with me, Delanie.”
All the fans in line cheered him on by their oohing and aahing.
I didn’t need the cheering section; my hand went right into his, almost of its own accord. He helped me around the table in front of hundreds of onlookers. I wasn’t sure why Peter was purposely drawing all this attention to us, but his only focus was me. He led us right out to the middle of the dance floor. Everyone on it parted and made way for us, snapping pictures and doing more of that annoying oohing and aahing. All things Peter wouldn’t be comfortable with, but he acted like it didn’t affect him. I caught a glimpse of Joan and Lucas, who were holding hands and smiling at us on the edge of the dance floor. They had been MIA for the night.
Once Peter took me in his arms and held me close, swaying off beat per his usual, everyone around us faded out of the picture. My arms fell around his neck while my eyes questioned what we were doing. What he was doing.
“The Queen of Romance has found her King,” the DJ announced before turning up the music.
I refrained from rolling my eyes.
Peter slid his hand down my back and whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I smiled. “What has gotten into you tonight?”
His picturesque eyes burned as they gazed into mine. “You. Always you.”
My pulse and senses quickened. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to give everyone a bigger show.”
“I’ve already taken care of that.”
What? I was both extremely turned on and perhaps a tad worried what he meant by that.
Peter let me go only to drop to one knee in front of me. The music stopped playing and everyone around us crowded in. More flashes went off than a disco ball. This was not in the script.
I stared down at him, feeling self-conscious. “What are you doing?”
He took my left hand while he adoringly looked up at me. “I wanted to do something to show you that this life with you is what I want.”
“I think you made your point.”
“Not yet.”
There was more?
He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a red velvet box.
“Peter?”
“I’ve always regretted that I didn’t propose to you in some romantic way. I know you don’t care about those sorts of gestures, but I do. You deserved at least that.” He opened the red box that held a unique yet stunning filigree gold band with leaves that reminded me of my tattoo. The perfect ring for me.
He took the ring out and placed it on my left ring finger. He held my hand after, still holding my gaze. “I choose you, Delanie Decker. Wherever you are, that’s where I belong. Please choose me.”
My family didn’t wait for me on the moon. My family was right in front of me. Peter was where I belonged.
“Forever.”