Rendezvous (24 page)

“If I do you wrong by this, then you can walk away. You can leave me standing at that altar looking like a fucking moron. We’ll do this how you want. No church, out in the open and you call the shots. I just need for you to trust me. I’m not asking you to decide right this second. The baby won’t be here for another four months. We have some time.”

I don’t have any reason not to trust him, other than him making plans behind my back. I’m still really pissed off about that. Aside from that, he’s always done everything with the best intentions, and he’s right, we have time. It’s not like she’s coming tomorrow, but he’s a complete idiot if he actually believes that I would walk down the aisle just to tell him to go fuck himself.

He and I both knew I’d never be capable if that, but I would never forget if he betrayed my trust and that would mar any future we’ll ever have. I think about what he is really asking of me, and give him my answer. “Fine, we’ll do this your way. But I’m telling you now, Tristan, if you go against my wishes in any way I will never forgive you. Understand that if you undermine me on this, it will set a precedent in how the remainder of our relationship will be,” I warn, as I lay my head back against him.

“Thank you,” he replies, letting out a heavy sigh. “You won’t be disappointed baby, I swear it.”

Chapter 24

Tristan

I enlist Marco and Jacob’s help. I need this day to be perfect, and just as Rome wasn’t built in a day, neither is putting together the perfect wedding.  I know the last thing Bentley wants to do is bounce from boutique to boutique trying on unflattering, poufy, way too frilly wedding dresses. So instead, Marco is hiring Raphael to find the perfect dress that will accommodate her growing belly.

Dante, who moonlighted as an interior designer, is in charge of the wedding decorations. He is the only person I trust to not fuck it up, since I have no doubt if she is pissed on her wedding day that I’ll never live it down. Maddie has offered up the services of herself and her uncle who has flown in to visit. I learn that he is some famous chef in France and Marco poached Maddie from his restaurant when she was an apprentice under him. They are good friends so there isn’t any animosity, which means I don’t have to worry about the reception food.

Aggie and Mrs. Anders are in charge of the wedding cake. The thought of even eating cake makes Bentley sick, so it’s better she stay away from the bakeries. Andy asked if she could help, and Jacob vouched for her, so she’s designing and putting together the wedding favors. I have no idea what the hell they are so I’m just going with it.

I’m planning the wedding for two weeks before she’s due. I know I’m pushing my luck, but I still don’t have my special guest guaranteed. I’m relying on Jacob to come through for me there. Everything except that is pulling together nicely until Bentley receives the news from the doctor that she will be spending her last two months on bed rest.

She has been fine with the things happening around her and without her up until that point since she has overseen some of the smaller details. Now that she is pretty much confined to a bed, the tension around her is unbearable. I hate seeing her so miserable.

I have been out the entire day and want nothing more than to crawl up beside her and spend some quality time with her in my arms. The baby has been kicking the shit out of her whenever she tries to sleep and she spends the majority of the night tossing around sleeplessly. I don’t find her in the bedroom though, and that scares the shit out of me. The shower isn’t running so I don’t bother checking the bathroom. I tear through every room in the house looking for her, I’m about to start calling people when I cross the bathroom and find her.

There Bentley is, lying in the tub, asleep. I don’t know how it happened, but I’m smiling from ear to ear at the sight. It makes my fucking heart soar to see her strength shine through as she lets go of her fears. She looks so damn peaceful. I run a hand through the water and find it cold. I don’t want to wake her so I try quietly to let some of the water out while adding in more hot water.  She wakes abruptly anyway, and decides since her skin is shriveled like a prune that she’d rather dry off and lay back down in bed.

I get into the bed and pull her against me so we’re spooning. I should leave it alone, but instead as I rub her shoulder I ask, “So when did that happen? How did that happen?”

She lets out a soft sigh before answering me. “I’ve been working at it for months. I’ve been seeing someone a couple of times a week, and she’s helping me work through the ordeals I suffered. I’ve been taking baby steps. It started out with just my ankles in the water, then I worked up to my knees, then thighs, waist, until finally I could sit in the tub without panicking. I started the temperature the same way with room temperature water, and gradually added hot water over time.”

I’m so fucking proud of her. I’d be a fool to think it’s just a tub. This is a huge fucking deal. She’s no longer ruled by her fears, and that changes the dynamics greatly for our future. I hope she is doing this for herself, and not for me and the baby. She’s changing into the person she thinks she needs to be to love our daughter. She doesn’t realize though that she is already that woman.

“I doubt you need to hear it from me, but I’m so damn proud of you, Spitfire. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Baby, and I thank every star that you’re mine.”

She stifles a laugh, “I love you too, Tristan, even though you’re highly exaggerating the situation. Thank you though,” she says through a yawn.

I don’t say anything else. I just hold her as close as possible and feel her heart as it beats against me, and pray that the baby doesn’t kick the hell out of her so she can get some sleep.

2 Months Later

My deadline is quickly approaching as our wedding is only two weeks away. Almost everything’s ready to go. I just have one piece of unfinished business and it’s my 'make or break' for this wedding. I still haven’t heard from Jacob and I’m starting to lose my mind.

Everything else is set to go. Since it’s become increasingly hot outside, we decided to do the wedding at sunset.  A tent is being set up on the beach for the reception. The menu has been perfected. My family and those Marco invited are arriving next week. The only thing undecided is the song for our first dance.

I’m literally running on borrowed time when Jacob calls a week later to let me know he’s obtained the last piece of our wedding puzzle. He might have found her earlier but no one was able to get a hold of Oliver until he finished his assignment. Now that it’s complete, Jacob got the location he needed. He will be back with said cargo in a couple of days, which leaves me no time for last minute details. I inquire about a few things I’ll need to know before he arrives and set to iron out the last minute touches.

Bentley is growing anxious. She’s been stir crazy for weeks since her belly is now so far in front of her she can no longer see the steps and won’t chance going down them unless I’m there with her. Since I’ve had my hands full, I haven’t been around to help her very much, so she’s been confined to our room. It isn’t until the night before the wedding that her rubber band finally winds too tight and she snaps.

“What the fuck is so goddamn important that you can’t spare a few minutes every couple of hours to check on me? I screamed for a half hour earlier when I slipped on the bathroom floor and couldn’t get back up. A fucking half hour I waited for someone to come and help, terrified that the pains shooting through my pelvis might trigger early labor, and your ass was nowhere to be seen. I had to crawl back to our fucking bed once the pains eased enough for me to move, so by all means enlighten me as to what is so goddamn important down there.”

‘Shit, Baby, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to make sure everything is right for tomorrow. I didn’t even think to have someone check on you. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” I ask concerned.

“Do I look like I’m okay, Asshole? I have fucking rug burn on both my knees and stomach because all you fucking care about is being married before she arrives. Maybe you should take your head out of your ass long enough to notice that there are more important things than what kind of champagne you’ll be toasting to, and how long you want the goddamn aisle you expect me to walk down to be.”

“I know, Sweetheart. I just want everything to be perfect for you tomorrow. You put your trust in me to make it perfect.”

“Do I look like I give a rat’s ass about your perfect wedding? I’ll be lucky if I can even stand up tomorrow, let alone walk. If you’re so damn concerned about everything being just right, then maybe your ass should sleep out there tonight. God forbid any sand get on the runner, and it would be utterly unacceptable for so much as a single flower petal to be wilted, and don’t forget to spit shine your shoes, and the shine the rings while you’re at it. We can’t have them looking less than impeccable,” she replies sarcastically.

I roll my eyes before grabbing some cream and spreading it across her scraped up skin. Most people would think she’s overreacting, but the doctor told her even the smallest of wrong movements could trigger early labor, so to hear that she fell has me not only worried about her and the baby, but feeling guilty as shit for neglecting her.

It takes forever to fall asleep. I watch her toss for hours, and every time I close my eyes, I wake up to small whimpers. I don’t know if she’s dreaming or in pain, but she flinches each time it happens, and it’s like a jolt of adrenaline. I’m instantly wide awake and keeping watch over her again. There are things the doctor told us to watch for, and I keep checking as she sleeps, but everything looks okay. Sometime shortly before sunrise, I finally fall asleep while holding her as close to me as possible.

When I wake up, it hits me: today is our wedding. I’m more nervous than I have ever been in my entire life. Dante is taking Bentley to a spa for the afternoon so she won’t be around to spy on the happenings around here, and it will help her relax after her ordeal yesterday. By the time she gets back, she’ll need to put on her dress and we’re ready to go. I know today is the moment of truth. It's the start of our future and it has to be perfect. My beautiful bride deserves nothing less.

I smile as all of the pieces come together. I don’t know how Bentley will react to the surprise I have in store for her. She was so upset about not having the things a traditional wedding has, but in actuality, she will. It took months to find her, but Cora will be there standing by her sister’s side as her matron of honor. Her two children will play the part of flower girl, and ring bearer. Bentley will have her perfect wedding.

I’m on pins and needles as sunset approaches and she is nowhere to be seen. I call Dante a good hundred times, and still no answer. I’m thinking the worst possible thought, that Bentley has gotten cold feet and isn’t coming. Maybe after what happened yesterday, she is angry enough to not come. She was really upset when she fell asleep last night, and she was pissed that I tried to lighten the mood. I can’t reach her or Dante, and I never got a chance to speak to her this morning before she left the house.

I watch the sunset, and still she hasn’t arrived. I dread facing the people waiting in their chairs. I really didn’t think when I told her she could leave me at the altar, that she ever actually would. As I approach the front of the aisle to tell them I don’t think my bride is coming, my phone rings. I look down to see Dante’s name flashing, and feel the world fall apart around me as my fear overtakes me. I answer the phone fully expecting to hear the worst. She changed her mind and doesn’t want to marry me.

“Tristan? Tristan are you there? Hello? Shit answer me, Tristan, are you there?” he yells frantically into the speaker.

I’m numb as I reply. “She’s not coming, is she?”

“No, she isn’t fucking coming. You need to get your ass here…like now. Bentley’s water broke. She’s having the baby.”

It takes me a moment to register his words. Wait...what? I’m in fucking shock. She didn’t bail on me. Holy fuck! She’s having the baby! I haul ass back down the aisle as everyone turns to stare at me, not knowing what the hell is going on. I start yelling like a madman.

“I have to go…so sorry. Bentley’s in labor, my baby is coming…we’re having a baby… enjoy the food…”

I don’t think I made any sense as I tear out of the house. I’m not thinking anymore; I’m running on instinct and adrenaline as I speed to the hospital.

I’m standing in the doorway watching my beautiful bride rock our perfect baby girl. I didn’t get to give her the perfect wedding. What I did manage is to get the priest to perform the ceremony before she went into full labor. Instead of spending the night dancing with Bentley, I held her hand as she pushed through the pains to deliver our daughter.

I cried like a fucking baby as the doctor announced our healthy baby girl. She was born at 5:18A.M., and weighed 7 lbs. 3 oz. and she is 20 inches of absolute adorableness. From the moment I lay my eyes on her, I know my life is about to change. From her tiny cries to how fragile she feels in my arms, I’m in complete awe of our tiny miracle. I don’t think she can be anymore perfect until she wraps her tiny fingers around my pinky and grips onto it tightly. I hear people joke about their hearts bursting with joy, and I’m pretty sure mine just exploded.

As I’m rocking her back and forth, she lets out a big yawn and opens her eyes. I’m disappointed to see her eyes are a dark blue, as I really hoped they would be the color of Bentley’s. Bentley sees the small frown and asks what is wrong. When I explain, she laughs at me and tells me babies are usually born with blue eyes, but they usually change once the baby gets a little older. So I’m holding out hope. After all, she already has a full head of dark brown hair and two perfect little dimples. She’s well on her way to being her mommy’s mini.

Patience is not my virtue, and I’m struggling to wait as I try to hide the box I’m holding in my lap. Bentley hates gifts. She’s always complains that I spend too much on her. She has no fucking clue just how much I want to give her. Money is of little consolation to me, as I have my father’s fortune with nothing and no one but her and the baby to spend it on. If I thought she’d let me, I’d buy her the world.

I stand up and walk around her bed. Leaning over her, I move the box into her lap and open the lid. I hold my breath as I wait for her reaction.

She lets out an audible gasp, “Tristan, it’s gorgeous, but I can’t…”

I cut her off before she can finish that sentiment. “Don’t tell me you can’t accept them, Bentley,” I say as more of a plea than a request. “You’re the only person I’d ever give them to. These belonged to my mother. They are the only trinket I have of hers and I want you to have them. I want you to wear them as a reminder of how much I love you, how much I’m in love with you, Bentley. I can’t think of any other person in the world more deserving than the mother of my child, so please don’t tell me you can’t.”