Forever My Angel (19 page)

I briefly consider going up to the apartment to shower and shave, but I shaved this morning before I left, and Angel likes running her hands over my five o'clock shadow. Plus it makes me look older, less baby-faced. I decide to forgo the shave and just slip into my tux. Then all that’s left to do is watch the clock until it’s time to go.

The stubborn-ass clock doesn’t want to move. What can I do in the meantime?

It comes to me in a flash of inspiration, and I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. I check in briefly on Ian and River who are doing prep work in the bar, and when I’m satisfied they can handle it, I climb in my truck. Working the bar isn’t the best use of Ian's skills, but tonight I need him to. I thought about calling Dougie, but I didn’t think he’d take it well if I called him to come to Tuck’s when I need him, yet otherwise expect him to stay away. Kevin assured me Ian can handle it. It’s rare for neither Chelsea nor I to be at the bar, but it’s just one night. I trust my staff to handle it.

The florist shop has exactly what I need, and then I’m on my way to the townhouse, my throat tense with nerves, like I swallowed a bunch of the brittle brown leaves that carpet most of the ground near my yard.

I almost feel like I should knock before entering my own house, but fuck that.

The girls are just coming out of the bedroom when I walk in.

Holy shit, Chelsea has outdone herself! Her keen eyes are dark and mysterious, her lips are cherry-red, her hair is curled and pulled back. And to top it all off, her silver gown is like a delicate snowflake, spun into a magnificent garment just for her. My sister is stunning, and I think Ware is going to have a hell of a time keeping unwanted attention off of her.

As beautiful as Chelsea is, it’s Angel who takes my breath away, leaving me unable to form words. Her hair is swept up, tamed into something I think girls call a ‘chignon’ and it makes her look very sophisticated. If I didn’t see her bare face every day, I’d think the only makeup she was wearing was lipstick. She’s a natural beauty, and it shows. Her blue gown–the same one she was trying on when I proposed–shimmers around her as she moves, reminding me of a waterfall glistening under the moonlight.

Angel doesn’t seem to be suffering from my lack of words. “You brought me red roses!” she squeals. Our eyes meet above the bouquet in my hands, and I know she remembers.

“Don’t you dare cry,” Chelsea cautions.

My love for Angel is damn near overflowing as I look at her, unable to truly believe she’s mine. Fuck, this girl. She destroys me with her touch, and slays me with just a look. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without her, and I’m glad that now I don’t have to. “Well, you said yes, so I sort of figured we’d reached that point.” I once told her that I knew red roses symbolized love. At the time she was only willing to accept friendship, so I’d brought her a mixed bouquet of yellow and red roses while promising her that someday, they’d be all red.

I turn to Chelsea, offering a tentative smile. I still haven’t apologized to her for the way I acted when I saw her and Ware kissing. I’ve been busy, between wedding plans and working with the architects and contractors to develop our renovation plans for the new location. “Forgive me?” I hand her a single summer’s rose, which have always been her favorite, from behind my back.

“Always.” She takes the rose, then brings it to her face and sniffs.

“I still don’t like the thought of you and Ware, but I promised Tess I’d behave and try to come to terms with it. Speaking of, where is the little shit?”

Chelsea’s happy expression flees in an instant. “He isn’t with you?”

Why would he be? “I didn’t realize he was supposed to be. I just assumed you and he had worked that out.”

“No, he was supposed to call you to make arrangements. Fuck.”

Chelsea’s bordering on panic, but this isn’t a big deal. He can just drive himself there, and then drive himself and Chelsea home afterwards. “Just text him the address and tell him to meet us there.”

“He wasn’t at the apartment before you left?”

I don’t remember hearing the sounds of anyone moving around upstairs, but I wasn’t listening for it either, distracted with my own thoughts. “I don’t know, I didn’t go upstairs. I had my tux in my office so I just changed in there.”

She shoots me a withering look before grabbing her phone, glancing at it at least once every two seconds as I chauffeur us to the gala. I watch her worriedly in the rear view mirror, hoping that Ware isn’t going to disappoint her tonight. I feel only slightly guilty for not making sure I knew what the transportation plans were, but if she told him to call me and set it up, that’s on him. I talked to him the other day about being a groomsman, and he sounded distracted but said he’d be honored. He didn’t mention anything about riding over to the townhouse with me then. So yeah, it’s not my fault.

That doesn’t mean seeing Chelsea trying not to freak sits well with me. Obviously he and I are going to have to have a talk, and I’m going to be talking as her brother, not his. I’m willing to make an effort to accept them together, but he damn sure better not make her cry, or her rusty spoon will be the least of his worries.

I pull into a long private driveway, lined with mature trees that have been adorned with millions of twinkling white lights for the occasion. We’re about twenty minutes outside of the city, and it shows in the vast amount of space surrounding the property. The Pennsylvania Horseman’s Prestige Society holds their annual Christmas Gala at a different member’s home each year, open strictly to members and their dates. Vanessa is more than a little peeved that Chadwell Farms has never been selected to host. This year, we’re at the farm of one of my father’s oldest friends in the horse business.

At the end of the driveway, I pull up and help both of the girls out of the back seat, handing my keys to a valet. The mansion’s front columns have been wrapped in fresh green swags, filling the air with the pungent scent of pine. Matching swag garlands adorn the banister of the grand staircase just inside the doorway. There’s a guest book on a pedestal to our left as we walk in, sitting next to glowing cinnamon and vanilla candles.

A butler takes the girls’ wraps, and then we pause near the entrance to the ballroom. My chest thrums with excitement; the moment I’ve been anticipating is finally here. My mood is only dampened by my worry for Chelsea. Typically, each of the unmarried couples in attendance–usually the children of full-fledged members–are announced as they enter the ballroom so that the older generation can
ooh
and
ahh
while making judgmental comments on the various matches. Who-brought-whom will be a hot topic of conversation for the rest of the evening, trumped only by talk of who came alone.

I hate that Ware is leaving Chelsea to face this alone. For me, entering with Angel will be bliss. But for Chelsea, who hates this entire event, this is going to be torture. The only thing I can do is insist that she enter with me and Angel, so the talk of our engagement can act as a shield for her.

“Ready?” I ask her.

She looks like she’s fighting an internal war, but then her face settles into a mask of determination. “I’m going to wait for Ware.”

I have a really bad feeling about this, but I’m trying to be better about respecting Chelsea’s right to make her own choices, knowing that all I can do is be there for her if she crashes and burns. I give her a quick nod, then lead Tess toward the ballroom. I give our names to the master of ceremonies, then pause on the threshold with Angel’s arm tucked tightly onto my elbow.

“I’m nervous,” she whispers to me.

“No need to be. You look beautiful, and everyone here will love you. Like I do.”

She smiles up at me, and for a moment, everything but us fades away.

“Entering now, we present the newly engaged Axel Chadwell, and fiancée Tess Sterling.”

I can tell the exact moment the words sink in through her nerves, and she beams, her eyes radiant. Yes, I feel it too. That heady notion that this is all real, and that after everything we’ve been though, we actually are here, together, ready to start the rest of our lives.

The room is filled with thunderous applause as I lead her to our table, where Dad is already seated with Vanessa.

Vanessa is her normal unpleasant self, looking like she’d rather be getting a lobotomy than sit here. And yet she’s sitting close to Dad, touching him every so often, and when she catches me looking at her she flashes me a fake smile.

“Axel, son, how
are
you? And your lovely bride-to-be!” We all know she doesn’t approve of Angel, and I’ll never be her son.

I smile back. “I wasn’t sure if Dad was going to bring you or my actual mother. I see he chose you. Too bad.”

Angel sucks in a sharp breath as I pull out a chair for her and then push it in once she’s seated. I get the distinct impression that Dad’s trying not to chuckle. “No one’s as surprised to see her as I am,” is all he says.

Interesting. If I’m understanding right, he didn’t expect Vanessa to be here; she just showed up because she couldn’t bear the thought of not being on his arm at the event of the year. Maybe this is the last time I’ll have to suffer through her presence.

“Where’s Chelsea? Are she and Warren here?”

I glance back at the door, but there’s no sign of either one of them. I ignore Vanessa’s question and pull out my phone, shooting off a text to Dougie.

I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t important. Chelsea’s been stood up at the Horseman’s Gala. Get your ass over here.

I doubt it will be enough to get her to give him another chance, but that will be between them, and at the very least if he hurries she won’t have to come in alone.

I breathe a little easier when I get a response from him.

The social hour is nearly over, and dinner is about to be served, when I finally see Chelsea on the threshold of the ballroom. The steady murmur of the crowd quiets as everyone peers toward the door at the sound of the microphone opening. I’m sure everyone is wondering who showed up this late.

“Ms. Chelsea Randall,” is announced and the crowd begins to whisper.

For a moment, Chelsea is standing there alone, looking far more composed than I would have expected. And then, just when I’m about to propel myself out of my seat to go to her side, Dougie appears, lightly gripping her elbow.

Chelsea tosses him a smile, but I’m not sure if it’s filled more with gratitude or surprise. They’re talking as they walk, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. They’re almost to our table when I hear her ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Axel texted me, told me to get my ass over here.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t fair to you.”

She’s right, and I should feel guilty for bringing him into this, but being stood up wasn’t fair to Chelsea, either.

“Don’t apologize. I jumped at the chance to see you, even if only for a moment. I miss you, Chelsea.” Dougie’s long, dirty blond hair is slightly mussed as usual, but his tux is pristine. He’s accompanied Chelsea to enough of these events in the past that he probably keeps it ready at all times. Thank God he wasn’t busy tonight, and he was able to get here so fast.

Chelsea stares at Dougie sadly. “I know, Dougie. But nothing has changed.”

Vanessa is glaring at Chelsea, and I have to fight the urge to kick her under the table as Chelsea sits and Dougie pushes in her chair.

“Don’t be mad, Chel. I didn’t want you to have to walk in alone, since my worthless brother couldn’t be bothered to show.” I don’t want to fight with her, but I’m more than a little pissed at Ware.

Dad frowns, and I think he’s about to scold me for saying that about Ware, but then he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Vanessa gasps. Taking phone calls, for work
or
pleasure, is highly discouraged during the gala. “Pardon me.” Dad flashes an apologetic smile around the table before pressing the phone to his ear. “Joyce?”

Vanessa’s lips pucker into a childish pout.

Dad isn’t paying her any attention as he listens raptly to whatever my mother is saying through the phone. Even sitting beside him, I can’t make out her words, just that she’s speaking uncharacteristically fast. I don’t know what, but something is gravely wrong. Dad’s brow is furrowing deeper by the moment, and his lips turn down into a heavy frown.

“I’m on my way.” Dad stands abruptly, ignoring the chaplain at the front of the room as he instructs us to bow our heads. “Please excuse me, but there’s been an emergency. I don’t know what, but Joyce insisted I come immediately.” His eyes find Chelsea’s, and she stands too.

I reach over Angel, trying to grab Chelsea’s arm, but she twists away. “I’m going.” Her tone is firm, and there will be no arguing with her, not that she waits to see if anyone tries. Almost as an afterthought, she calls an apology to Dougie over her shoulder as she strides away from the table, right on my father’s heels.

—-♥—-

A
fter Chelsea and my father leave, the thought of staying at the gala turns my stomach sour. It just doesn’t feel right. “Do you need a ride home?” I ask Vanessa, not knowing if she rode with my father or not.

Vanessa looks positively crestfallen at my father’s departure. She shakes her head miserably. “I drove myself.”

“I think Angel and I are going to take off, then. Dougie?”

“Yeah. No reason for me to stay.” There’s an edge to his voice.

Vanessa's horror only grows. “But what will people say? You can’t leave now! It’s bad enough your father and my daughter already made a spectacle.”

I study her face, sure she can’t be serious, but she actually fucking is. The worst part is, I don’t get the sense that it’s malicious; she’s just trying to hold onto the little bit she has, her pride. I’ve never been one of those people who care more about what others think than the way things really are, but Vanessa has always been infatuated with appearances. “I think they’ll say that the Chadwells know how to put family first.”

I stand without another word, offering Angel my arm.