Forever His(6)
What they didn’t know—what no one knew—was that she might not have a future at all.
Holding that secret inside left her alone in her fear, but saying it aloud would be too terrifying to bear.
“There you are, Celine. I’ve been looking for you. Feeling all right?”
Celine tensed as her older sister, Jacqueline Fontaine O’Keefe, appeared at her side. “I’m fine, Jackie,” she replied with a smile. Perfectly fine. I feel better physically than I ever have in my life. That’s the irony of it.
She kept her thoughts to herself and moved down the table.
“Glad to hear it. Love the hat. Is that a new one?” Jacqueline’s voice burbled with laughter and too much Dom Perignon. She kept right on talking without waiting for an answer. “I’m not here to hover, promise. Just the opposite, in fact. I’m appointing myself your personal social director for the evening.”
Celine groaned inwardly and tried to look like she was intently deciding between the lobster and the frogs’ legs.
“I’ve found you the dream date of all time,” Jacqueline continued. “Six feet of pure gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, killer bod. I told him about that Elle cover from last summer and he’s dying to meet you.”
Celine frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t go around reminding people of that. It’s bad enough when they bring it up on their own.” She put a spoonful of marinated salmon on her plate, wishing for the umpteenth time that she had never agreed to pose in nothing but a few strategically placed baobab leaves.
“It’s okay, Celinie-Beanie,” Jackie said in the same tipsy tone. “I told him you gave up modeling last year for a career as a finer artist.”
“Fiber artist.”
“Right. Anyway, I’m not taking any ifs, ands, or buts this time. This guy’s got ‘wild romantic fling’ written all over him. God knows you deserve one.”
Celine sighed. “That’s true,” she agreed, chastising herself even as she said it. She knew she should correct the “flighty, footloose” image everyone had of her. She preferred to think of herself as free-spirited and independent. Maybe she didn’t have the scholarly bent and the get-to-the-top drive of the rest of the Fontaine clan, but she wasn’t flighty.
And definitely not footloose. She was not the wild-romantic-fling type. On the contrary, she was perhaps the last twenty-three-year-old virgin left on the planet. She had never found Mr. Right, or even Mr. Right Now.
But she didn’t like being teased about her old-fashioned streak, any more than she had liked being teased about her grades as a kid. Or her height. The nickname “Celinie-Beanie”—short for Celine-the-beanpole—had always stung.
“He sounds great, Jackie.” Keeping her smile in place, Celine moved down the table, taking a wafer-thin slice of her favorite Port Saint cheese, two crackers, and a dozen fat fraises des bois, wild strawberries covered in chocolate. She decided to try a little humor, which usually managed to deflect her determined sister. “I’m afraid I’m just not in the mood for a blond. Now, if he had dark hair and brown eyes and a movie-star smile—”
“Oh, please. This guy’s perfect for you. He’s not a cop, a lawyer, a reporter, or a surgeon. I asked.”
Celine tried to laugh at Jackie’s attempted joke. Her sister knew those were her four least-favorite professions, after the past year. “Then how about ‘I’ve got a headache’?” Celine deadpanned.
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jackie stole one of the strawberries from Celine’s plate and took a bite. “Honestly, Celine, you’re going to hurt my feelings if you keep turning down every man I try to set you up with. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Celine followed her sister’s gaze across the room to where Jackie’s tall, handsome husband, Harry O’Keefe, stood talking to some of their British cousins. He balanced a Perrier in one hand and their three-year-old son, Nicholas, on his shoulders.
Celine’s eyes suddenly misted and she turned aside before Jackie could notice. Yes, I do know what I’m missing, she thought, a wave of sadness choking her. I might never have what you have. A husband. Children. I might not have enough time left.
She started to shake uncontrollably.
Oh, God, not here! Not now!
It was the moment she had been dreading. She was going to burst into hysterical tears in front of everyone. Embarrassment urged her to flee, but the roar of her heartbeat left her paralyzed with panic.
She felt rather than saw Jackie take the plate from her hands and set it aside. “God, Celine, I’m being about as sensitive as a runaway train. It’s Lee, isn’t it? You still haven’t gotten over Lee.” She steered Celine toward a nearby Louis XIV settee and shooed a pair of partygoers out of the way so her sister could sit down.