He looks at me then, light finally showing hope in his eyes and replacing the sadness I saw moments ago. “Bella Blake.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Cal doesn’t have a middle name. He was never given one, and I’m not even sure how he got a last name to begin with. Obviously, Ellis was given to him when he was adopted, but he was never an Ellis—he’s said so himself.
I’m glad he decided to take Peter’s last name. It’s one that he can be proud of.
“What about the company?” I ask, curious if he’ll keep the Ellis name for the resorts. A cramp in my leg has me standing up, and Cal does the same, still holding the box.
“I was thinking, Blake Hotels and Resorts.”
“Oh, wow. You’ve already figured it all out.”
“It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”
I wrap my arms around his neck, our noses brushing against one another. “I think it’s a great name.”
Cal presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. “All right, let’s get back to bed. We’re supposed to spend all day there.”
I smile against his mouth, kissing him over and over again. “I like the way you think.”
Cal sets the box down in the chair. “We’ll leave him here for the night and find a good spot for him tomorrow.”
“I think that’s a good idea. He always liked this room.”
I take Cal’s hand and we head back to our room. It’s obvious he’s hurting and I wish there was something I could do or say to make him feel better; I just don’t think there is. He needs time.
We get back to the bedroom and crawl into bed. My head rests on Cal’s chest as he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Before long, I’m drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I woke up before Cal for a change. He didn’t sleep well last night. I felt him toss and turn for hours as we battled for the blanket. Each time he’d roll, he’d pull it off me. Each time I pulled it back, he rolled again. Finally, I took the whole damn thing and covered him with the flat sheet.
Sharing a bed will take some getting used to, but I’m sure that’s the case for all newly-engaged couples.
I’ve already showered and have coffee in the room for us when it occurs to me that I should cook breakfast this morning. I love to cook, but I’ve never had the chance to cook for Cal.
I sneak out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind me. I’m half tempted to go check out the other levels to see what changes are being made. We never did a tour last night, so I’m still not sure what his plan with all the extra space is. Cal wasn’t feeling up to it and I honestly wasn’t either.
Deciding against it, I go to the kitchen and find that the chef is not there, so I help myself. It’s a large, commercial kitchen with anything you could ever need to make any food you want. I find a large refrigerator stocked full and decide on scrambled eggs and hash browns.
I get all the ingredients out on the counter and begin my search for utensils. A big kitchen is nice and all, but when I’m a mother and wife, I’d like to be able to cook for my family in a room that doesn’t feel like I’m serving up a restaurant full of people.
My agitation gets the best of me when twenty minutes have passed, and I can’t find anything I’m looking for.
That’s it. We need a smaller kitchen. Cal will argue and say I don’t need to cook and that we have people to do it for us. Same with the housekeeper. He’ll insist that she can do all the cleaning and I never need to lift a finger. I wasn’t raised that way, though, and Cal wasn’t either. We know hard work and we also know that it pays off. I don’t want someone else taking care of my family and I’ll certainly never hire a full-time nanny to watch them while I do absolutely nothing. An occasional sitter, fine. We all need a break, but my dreams of being a mom and wife include doing all the things that moms and wives do.
I’m pulling out pans, dropping them to the floor with a thud and making an obscene amount of noise, when I hear laughter from behind me.
My head jerks around and I see Cal standing in the open doorway. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says, arms crossed over his chest and humor on his lips.
I drop down on my ass, feeling defeated. “I wanted to cook you breakfast.” I bury my face in my hands, on the brink of tears.
“Baby, we have a cook for that.” He crouches down beside me and rubs a hand up and down my back. “I put in an order for omelets. Come to the dining room, it will be ready shortly.”
“No, Cal,” I raise my voice, not meaning to, but really wanting to get my point across. “I wanted to cook for my fiancé. How can I, though, when this kitchen is the size of a house? I can’t find anything.”
“You really wanted to cook me breakfast?”
I look up at him, a serious expression on my face. “Yes. I want to do all of those things. But this place is…too…big.”
“I thought you loved it here?”
“I do. As a vacation or even a place of work. But not as a home.”
I’m being so selfish. My face drops back in my hands and I begin sobbing like a baby. “I’m sorry. I know you went through all the trouble to have these renovations done that you want to surprise me with, and here I am acting like a brat.”
Cal laughs and the sound calms me slightly, knowing that he’s not angry. “Stand up.” He gets to his feet. I look at him, and he’s holding out a hand. “I want to show you something.”
I place my hand in his and he pulls me up. “What is it?” I ask, never being one to have an ounce of patience.
He leads me out of the kitchen and we begin down the hall. “I told you I had some changes done, but I never told you what they were.”
“Well,” I drawl, “what are they?”
“You’ll see.”
We end up in the elevator and back on the eighth floor, where our room is. Cal takes me down the hall, and we stop in front of the room I stayed in when I was here. “Ready?” he asks, wide-eyed and excited.
I nod, anxious to see what’s behind the door. He pushes it open, and I look inside. “Cal,” I gasp. “Are you serious right now?”
I’m no longer looking into my old room. I’m now looking at a baby nursery. Gray carpet, with white walls, a white crib with matching dressers, and even a rocking chair in front of the balcony doors. “This is…” I fall into his arms, ready to cry again, “I love it so much.”
“I know we’re a long ways away from having a baby, but I figured we could at least be prepared. The plan was for you to decorate however you want, but now, I’m thinking we need to talk about what exactly it is you want. I’m not so sure anymore.”
Our hands clasp together, bodies level, and I look up at him. “I just want something…smaller.”
“So you want to leave Cori Cove?”
“No!” I blurt out, “I don’t want to leave here. I absolutely love this island. It’s surrounded by beauty and I love the way I feel when I’m here.”
“Okay, then it’s settled. We’ll build our own house, just the way we want, on the backside of the property.”