I start to fix one of her curls that’s gone array from the wind by the fountain, taking out a bobby pin and repositioning her hair. “I don’t think he’s coming.”
“Wrong,” Caiden says.
“I know it’s disappointing, but you’ll still have fun without Dean.”
“You’re wrong, he’s here,” Caiden says with a tone that suggests I’m an idiot.
My hands freeze, the bobby pin falling from my mouth and it’s all I can do to keep Molly’s hair between my fingers until I can secure it again.
Dean stands at the entrance doors, his eyes searching through the crowd. Lucky for him, his height is an advantage. He meets my eyes and a small, shy smile crosses his lips.
Someone bends down next to me, and then hip checks me. “Go.” Zoe nudges, taking her daughter’s hair from my hands.
I walk toward him, and he walks to me. Our eyes don’t waver from each other.
“I know you might not want me here,” he says. “But I couldn’t leave you alone here tonight.”
“What?”
“I get that you want your space and I know we have a ton to talk about…”
“Did you not get my message?” I ask.
A confused look crosses his face and he digs out his phone. Scanning through his missed calls, his eyes light up. “I have no idea how I missed it.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re here.” I step forward and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me. “I’m sorry. That’s all the message says. I’m sorry for everything. You’re right I was still holding you at arm’s length.”
“I can’t expect you to shift gears so fast. It’s me.” He steps out of our embrace, his palm sliding down my arm until he has my hand in his. Guiding us outside, the stifling Chicago summer heat feels like walking into an oven.
“We really need to think about moving.” He doesn’t stop us until we’re on the side of the building where no one can see us.
He cages me in with my back against the brick wall. “I can’t spend another night without you beside me. Please don’t make me.” He gently places a chaste kiss on my forehead.
“Okay. I questioned how much you’d fight for us and I was wrong to do that when I wasn’t even willing to fight myself. So, Dean.” I hold his face in my hands. “I’m in this. One hundred percent whether it ends in I do, or I want a divorce.”
“We already did the I do part.” He smirks.
“We did the divorce part, too.”
He laughs, stepping in so we’re chest to chest. “So, we’re all good again?”
“Yup.”
“Man, we’re so mature now. Not even a dish broken.” I laugh remembering the crazy fights we used to have when we were younger. I guess that’s the good part of sharing a past. They see you change for the better.
“We should go in, cocktail hour is going to end soon.”
“We need to talk about the baby, but for now I’ll take a kiss.” He leans in, capturing my lips, his tongue moving at a slow and easy pace.
“You call that a kiss?” I question when he closes it.
“Oh, my little freak is back in full effect I see.” He grabs the back of my neck, tilting it to the side and slams his lips to mine, displaying how bad he wants me from the way our tongues fall in line, fighting for dominance.
When he pulls away, he reaches for my hand and starts to lead me inside.
“I can’t wait to see what pregnancy is going to do to your hormones,” he says.
Rather than smack him on the chest, I laugh because I can’t wait to see either.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You’re actually supposed to be at table seven.”
Dean glances away from the kid’s table and over to the table full of Beckett and Skylar’s friends from skiing. People we’ve seen on commercials and who have impressive careers in the limelight.
“I’m surprised I get to sit with the cool kids.” He kisses my cheek. “Although I wish I was next to you.”
“Dean! Dean!” Molly runs over, grabbing onto his suit jacket sleeve.
“What’s up, Molly?” Dean asks, holding his hand up for a high five.
She goes to hit it and he moves it away. “I hope you can do better than that?” she asks.
“Whoa, did I just get dissed by a little kid?” he looks back at me baffled.
“I’m not little.” Molly puts on the attitude that matches her mother’s.
“Sorry, big kid.” Dean puts his hands up in front of him.
“Come on.” She pulls on his jacket.
“Where am I going?” he asks as he pretends to fight back.
“Your card says table nine,” Molly says.
Dean pretends to put an arm out to me as though he needs saving.
“What do I tell the cool kids?” I ask with a laugh.
“Tell them I found cooler kids to hang out with.” He winks. “Save me a dance.”
Then he turns around and goes with Molly, pulling out the chair for her and then takes the other. A minute later, I can see that Molly introducing him and he’s leaned over the table asking for high fives from all the kids.
“I’m still not sure, but I suppose he does seem different.” My mom comes to stand alongside me.
“Don’t be too apologetic there, Mother.”
An older image of myself stands beside me looking elegant and sophisticated. Everything she wants people to think she is. So worried about outside appearances rather than the inside. If our relationship had been different, I would’ve told her about what the doctor said after my first miscarriage. Maybe she would’ve done more research than I did at the time and we would’ve found out some people have successful pregnancies. Maybe she would’ve taught me what it was like to be a mother, rather than showing me the type of mother I don’t want to be.
“Well.” She straightens the shoulder of my dress. “It is nice to tell my friends my daughter’s boyfriend is a lawyer.”
“Even though she’s pregnant out of wedlock?”
Her face morphs into stone. “I assumed there’d be a wedding. I mean the two of you went off and got married in a rush when there was no baby. Surely my grandchild won’t be born with me not knowing which name to ask for at the hospital, his or her mother’s or father’s.”
“I don’t know, Mom, I like to keep you on your toes.” I pat her on the shoulder. “There’s no ring on this finger yet.” I hold up my left hand.
“Chelsea,” she warns.
My eyes go wide, stepping farther and farther away from her. She’ll never raise her voice.
“Have a great night, Mom.” I find my seat at the head table.
“I see I was right.” Mikey pretends to straighten his collar like he’s the shit.
“He’s here, yes.”
“All kissed and made up?”
I elbow him in the ribcage. “Yes.”
“Good to know.” His phone buzzes to life in his pocket.
“For heaven’s sake, Mikey, what the hell is going on? Who do you have to talk to so much?”