A Very Dirty Wedding(98)

"That's probably why she isn't responding to her phone," I say, reassuring myself that something as silly as a misconstrued photo would not get between us, but I'm not sure I'm even convincing myself.

Then I remember the last time something got uploaded to the internet -- the Brighton Bingo card, and my heart sinks.

Rose slides a plate of freshly baked bread toward me. "Take this to the Senator," she says. "He's out on the patio."

She gives me a look that tells me not to argue with her.

"Yes, ma'am," I say, and she tsk-tsks me.

"Don't sass me," she says. But there's a twinkle in her eye, and she stops, putting her hand on mine. "And I don't think Katherine puts much stock in gossip and rumors."

Shit. Rose knows?

Kate must have talked to her about it.

That’s not reassuring. It's worse than I thought, if she talked to Rose. She talks to Rose about stuff that's bothering her, not about stuff she'd just laugh off.

I feel like I'm walking to the firing squad, as I head out to the patio to talk to the Senator. He's standing in a collared shirt and slacks, despite the cold, staring out at the lawn with a pensive expression as he smokes a cigar.

"Rose asked me to bring this to you," I say, handing him the plate.

"As long as Rose has worked for me, she's baked this bread," he says, picking up a piece. I set it down on the table on the patio and stand there for a second.

"It's good bread," I say lamely.

Great. Now I'm out here talking about baked goods with the Senator, when I really want to be telling Kate that photo meant nothing.

"I wasn't the world's best father after Katherine's mother died," he says, still looking straight ahead. "I'm – well, I think it's too late really for Katherine and I, but I'm trying to be better at it now."

I clear my throat. Kate’s father unburdening himself to me is seriously awkward. "There's still time, I'm sure."

"But you have your whole lives ahead of you," he says. "So don't screw it up."

I bristle at the Senator's implication that I'm screwing up parenthood -- and things with Kate -- already. "I'm not stupid enough to fuck up the important things in my life, Senator," I say, my words terse.

I leave the rest of it unspoken.

The way you obviously did.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

KATE



I'm standing at my mother's grave, in the chilly December air, my winter coat wrapped tightly around me. There's no snow on the ground here yet, but the ground is frozen, leaves crunching under my feet as I shift back and forth, trying to keep warm.

I needed to get out of the house. When I got back from the bachelorette party, Ella had already seen the gossip blogs with Caulter's photo plastered all over them, and was talking "damage control" and issuing statements. The last thing I want to think about right before my wedding is the necessity of damage control.

Of course Caulter wasn't doing anything with those girls, I told Ella, shrugging nonchalantly. "Of course not, honey," she said. But I could see the question in her eyes, and that made my heart leap in my throat.

That little nagging voice in my head helpfully offered, Once a bad boy, always a bad boy.

Fuck that voice. I know Caulter.

Right?

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.