Forever My Angel (16 page)

It nearly kills me to leave her there, sobbing on the other side of the door, but this I can fix. And she’s not the one I need to talk to in order to do it.

—-♥—-

I
spent a lot of yesterday on the phone, changing around my proposal plans. I hate that my desire to do everything perfectly let Angel think for even one moment that I might have changed my mind. And I get it—before, I’m pretty sure that I gave her the impression I’d drop to one knee the moment she was ready. Maybe all the secret planning I’ve been doing has made me seem a bit tuned-out to her. But that will change today.

It didn’t take much effort to get Dad to change his plans for dinner tonight with Ware and Chelsea, when I told him why. He’s going to meet us at the bar later for a celebratory dinner instead. Ware’s taking the day off from Chelsea guard duty, in order to help out by picking up an extra shift at the bar tonight.  With that out of the way, and the boutique willing to change the reservation date for me thanks to a hefty fee, everything is ready. Chelsea called Angel yesterday and rescheduled their shopping date, after she met with Brandy at the boutique and arranged some of the finer details. Like dresses. Chelsea’s in a panic. She screeched obscenities at me on the phone last night when I told her that I was hoping to schedule the wedding for New Year’s Eve. But how was I supposed to know that three weeks is a ridiculously short amount of time for planning a wedding?

Whatever. The girls should be here soon, and that’s all that matters.

Right on cue, I see them stroll through the front door of the mall. Once they’re a safe distance ahead, I slip out of my hiding place behind a large potted tree, and follow them. Chelsea wanted me to wait in a dressing room in the boutique, but the thought of being stuck in there waiting until the last moment made me feel claustrophobic. I know I’m risking getting caught, but I can’t help it.

There are too many other voices nearby to hear what the girls are talking about, but when Chelsea turns toward Angel I see that her face is flushed. I hurry my pace, getting closer so I can listen in.

“I do understand, you know,” Tess says. “Your brother can be sort of overwhelming when it comes to money. He goes way crazy with it, and after not being used to having it, it’s easy to forget just how easy things are for him. But you were raised around it, so I’m not quite sure I get it.”

Crazy my ass.

“I was raised around it, but that doesn’t mean I was a part of it. It was never mine, and I think I’d feel the same if I ended up with someone wealthy. Like their wealth wasn’t mine. Like it could all be gone in an instant. I’d rather have something we work together to achieve and build, and know that it’s a product of our love and hard work.”

What the hell? Is Chelsea trying to convince her not to marry me? I might have to beat her with her own rusty spoon. I hope Angel knows that won’t be a problem for us, especially since we’re going to build Melt together. It
will
be ours.

I drop back as Chelsea guides Angel into the boutique where I brought her shopping right after she showed up on my doorstep. My heart beats excitedly in my chest. I have to wait outside the store until someone signals me that they’re in position. I smooth my hands over the front of my tux, making sure everything is in place. The ring is tucked in a box in my left pocket, and the weight of it gives me a little comfort.

They must be close to the door at one point, because Chelsea’s voice drifts out. Or maybe she’s speaking extra-loud for my benefit. “Listen. Don’t let my rambling and worries for one second undermine what you and Axel have. You guys have a love that’s timeless. It’s the thing of fairy tales and Hallmark movies. Rich, poor, none of it will ever matter, because you guys were meant for each other. He’s crazy about you.”

I can’t hear Angel’s response, but I hope she believes Chelsea’s words as thoroughly as I do. I know the moment is drawing near, and nerves hit me all at once. Christ, what if she says no? I suck in a sharp breath, trying to pull myself together.

Brandy looks like she can barely contain her excitement as she sticks her head out of the store and ushers me inside. We walk quickly but silently back to the changing rooms. My stomach churns, and I feel like I’ve swallowed a bolt of lightning.

Chelsea’s gaze meets mine, and her eyes are warm and happy. “You’ll be fine,” she mouths silently to me, then goes and sits in a far corner, leaving me alone to wait for the dressing-room door to open.

I think about dropping to one knee now, but decide against it, instead tucking my hands behind my back, my gaze fixed on the door.

The latch rattles. My breath hitches in my throat, and then Angel steps out looking like a water nymph in a shimmering blue gown. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and tears immediately fill her eyes. She’s smiling, though, and when I drop to one knee before her she lets out a little gasp. Her hands fly to her mouth, and I know she’s going to say yes.

“Tess.” My voice sounds much calmer than I feel, and I hope she can hear how much I love her.

She sobs as her tears break free, and she trips forward, smiling, to clasp her arms around my neck. “Yes!”

It’s all I can do not to laugh. I’ve planned out every moment of this, but I should know my girl does things her own way. “You have to let me ask, Angel,” I tell her warmly. My heart is trying to explode out of my chest, my love for her overflowing. I nudge her slightly so she’ll move back.

She nods, her face radiant with glee. “But I already know the answer.”

I hear someone giggling behind me.

I give her a patient look—at least I hope it comes off as patient.

Angel laughs. “Fine. But hurry up, so I can say yes.”

I take a deep breath, never taking my eyes off her. “Tess, will you let me start the New Year off the way I plan to spend the rest of my years—as your husband?”

Behind me, I hear gowns rustling as the staff brings in the assortment of wedding dresses Chelsea picked out for Angel to try on. But the only sound I want to hear is Angel’s answer.

“New Year’s?” she asks, panic flitting briefly across her pale face.

I just nod.

“Yes,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss me. Her hands cup my cheeks with the gentlest touch. When her lips brush mine, they’re full of promise and hope. I flick my tongue against her lip, asking for entry, then plunge inside her mouth when her lips part for me. She tastes like sunlight and honey, and I know I’ll never get enough. But I don’t have my ring on her finger yet, and I can’t wait another moment. I pull away and slide the delicate band onto her tiny finger. Seeing it sparkle there, set against her skin at last, is almost too much. I have to choke back my emotion before I make a complete fool of myself. Angel grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet.

She said yes! I scoop her up and lift her off the ground in a huge hug, spinning her around and around as happiness floods through me.

“Thank you,” she says softly in my ear. “Thank you for waiting until I was ready.”

I’m about to kiss her again and tell her that I would have waited forever if that’s what it took, but Chelsea interrupts, pulling Angel away from me as I set her on the ground. “Yeah, yeah, he waited to ask, but now you’ve only got three weeks to plan. I had them bring in a few wedding dress I thought you’d like, but we can look elsewhere if you want. Just remember, we don’t have much time if we’re going to get it altered by the wedding.”

Angel’s hand is tucked into mine as she smiles at Chelsea. “You were in on this?”

“Of course,” Chelsea says. “Now pick a damn dress before I have to beat you with my rusty spoon.”

I’m undeniably happy, but seeing Chelsea staring wistfully at Angel, I wonder if I should say something to her about Ware and the secrets he’s hiding. Is that his story to tell, or is this one of those cases where what you don’t know
can
hurt you?

—-♥—-

I
guess it was too much to hope that Angel would be so happy with our engagement that she’d let me out of dinner with my mom.

She’s been back home in Cedar Rapids, but we decided to meet halfway. That’s still a three and a half hour drive for each of us, and I can’t help but pity Ware for making this drive twice a week. At first, I couldn’t fathom what would be so important at home that he’d be willing to make the trip that often, rather than just staying in Philadelphia full time. But now that I know about Lily, I can totally understand. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to leave her four days out of every week. I wonder again why he doesn’t just tell Dad about her. It would certainly make everything easier for all involved. But maybe he has his reasons.

I’m surprised to find that my attitude toward him is shifting. I find it harder and harder to think of him as nothing more than a punk kid trying to weasel his way into part of my family’s fortune.

I even invited him to dinner with Angel, Mom, and me, but he declined, saying he was in a hurry to get back. I also understand now why he and Mom come to Philly on opposite schedules; someone’s got to take care of Lily.

Wonder if I’ll ever get to meet her?

Maybe she’ll grow up playing and being the best of friends with the children Angel and I have.

Woah.
Where the hell did that thought come from?

I glance over out of the corner of my eye at Angel sleeping in the passenger seat, my eyes lingering on the diamond sparkling on her finger. Maybe I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Angel’s just getting ready to go back to school, and we’ll be opening Melt. We’re going to be more than a little busy, and I want to have some time to enjoy being newlyweds before we’re parents. But fuck if the thought of her stomach swollen with my child doesn’t make my dick hard.

Mom picked the restaurant, a little place not far off the highway called Susie Q’s.

“Wow. This is quaint,” Angel says, waking up as we pull into the gravel parking lot.

I have to agree. The restaurant looks more like a cottage, with a wooden, hand-painted sign above the door that matches the marquee out front. Red-and-white plaid curtains line the windows, and the front door is covered by a matching red-and-white awning that probably doesn’t offer any more protection from the weather than a bike provides in a car accident. Clearly it’s for looks, not purpose. The fabric is thin, definitely not new, but nothing about the place is rundown. Just well-loved.

A friendly waitress greets us as soon as we walk in, her smile like a giant welcome banner. “Two for dinner?”

“We’re meeting one other.” It’s impossible not to return her smile. Friendliness is contagious.

“That her?” the waitress bobs her head to the other side of the dining room that’s spread out around us, and sure enough, Mom is tucked into the corner of a booth along the back wall.

“Yes, thanks.”

We follow the waitress through the maze of tables. Mom stands when we reach the table. She looks like she wants to hug me but isn’t sure it will be welcomed. My spine is rod-straight, but I lean over and quickly pat my arms around her in the stiffest hug in the history of the world. Mom beams like she just won the lottery.

Angel gives Mom a bright smile before sliding into the booth opposite her. Once Angel slides over, I scoot in close, pressing my leg against hers.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.” Mom’s voice is quiet, but her eyes aren’t. I can see exactly how much it means to her that I’m here.

Somewhere deep inside, I’m shocked to realize it means something to me, too. She didn’t drive here for Ware, like when she showed up on Thanksgiving. She’s here just for me, literally meeting me in the middle.

“I said I would be.” But she said she’d come home, too, and then she didn’t. So maybe there’s a basis for her to wonder if I’d show. I have to push that thought aside, because if she and I are going to move forward without tripping and falling all over ourselves, I’ve got to start looking where we’re going instead of backwards over my shoulder.

The waitress swings by our table to take our drink order: coffee for Angel, tea for both Mom and me. She smiles after the waitress leaves. “You always liked tea when you were little, too. I had to limit your intake so you weren’t running around the studio sugared up while I was trying to paint.”

Angel squeezes my leg at the mention of Mom’s studio. We’ve got memories there; some good, some not so good. “I used to like to watch you paint.” And it’s true, not just empty words. I loved seeing Mom create something from nothing. It was magic. I don’t have as much talent in my whole body as Mom does in her little finger, but I do like to draw occasionally. Or at least I used to when I had more time.

There’s a painting on the wall beside our booth, very similar to the others hung artfully throughout the restaurant. The subject matter’s nothing special, just a family sitting down to a meal: a woman and a little boy. He’s standing on the chair, facing something out of view, while the mother smiles on, a look of infinite patience on her face. But it’s not the scene itself that’s suddenly caught my eye, or the fact that the basket of fruit on the table in the painting looks incredibly realistic, and the bread on the plate is so life-like you’d think you could reach over and pick it up. What I suddenly find myself staring at is Mom’s signature in the bottom corner. “You did this?” I jerk my head to the painting.

Mom doesn’t look at me, but I can see a shy smile on her face as she folds and unfolds her cloth napkin between her hands. “The owner, Susie, and I went to school together a long time ago. She came to visit shortly after Ware was born, and she saw some of my paintings. I don’t know if she really liked them or if she was just trying to help an old friend who’d fallen on hard times, but I appreciated it just the same.”

Angel gasps. “You mean you did
all
of these?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing!”

Angel’s hand is resting on the top of the table, her ring in plain view.

Mom’s gaze settles on it, and she looks pleased. “I hear congratulations are in order.”