Authors: S. A. Wolfe
Fearsome (45 page)
“Jess, this one reminds me of you,” he says with the first smile of the evening. My mother reads the caption and winces before moving on to another painting. Carson sneaks a kiss on my temple when he sees my troubled face observing my mother.
“I suppose it could be worse,” I whisper to Carson.
“It could always be worse.” Carson laughs. “How do your parents look when they are pleased? Do they smile much?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Maybe this
is
them being pleased. I don’t know anymore.”
“They’re here. That’s what matters.”
Tom walks by us and flashes ten fingers at me with a big smile on his face.
“What’s with the jazz hands?” Carson asks when Tom is gone.
I laugh. “He’s sold ten of my paintings so far tonight. Not bad.”
“You’re hot shit.”
“It feels pretty good,” I say. “It would be better if we weren’t hanging with my parents. They’re like the walking dead. Look at our friends across the room. They’re laughing it up and having fun.”
“Take it easy.” Carson keeps his voice low. “Your parents don’t know what to make of your new career path and having me next to you isn’t helping. You should tell them you want them to visit you at the house sometime soon.”
“You’re
shoulding
all over me again
.
Sometimes you’re very practical. My father will like that about you.”
“I think he already likes me,” Carson says, swinging our hands playfully back and forth between us.
I sigh, enjoying the moment.
Before my parents leave I do offer an open invitation to have them visit for a weekend or even a dinner. My father seems amiable to the idea while my mother smiles in one of those noncommittal ways.
The exhibit hours have officially ended, so I don’t have to keep performing, explaining my paintings to inquisitive lurkers. We all leave the gallery together and I’m riding on a thunderous high, complete exhilaration over being part of the show and having Carson on my arm. Our group has grown to include friends of Marissa and Kate, the Blackard employees, the employees from Bonnie’s and some of my colleagues from 5 Alpha.
Archie, Lois and Eleanor beg off, choosing to go dine at a quiet restaurant on the Upper Eastside before they drive back to Hera. The rest of us gather on the sidewalk with the chilly snowfall nipping at us. It’s a beautiful, wintery evening in the town that never sleeps and my friends want to live it up.
“Let’s go to Cielo!” Marissa says to everyone. Lauren and Imogene squeal with approval at her choice of dance clubs in the meat-packing district.
“You’re finally legal, Jess. You need to dance and celebrate this great night,” Kate adds.
I turn to Carson. He shrugs. “It’s your call. I’ll go dancing if that’s what you want.”
“You guys go without us,” I tell them. “Carson and I have dinner plans.” He arches an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t complain.
When the group disperses into five separate cabs to head off to the club, Carson and I are left alone, walking on West 25
th
Street. “Do you really have dinner plans for us?” Carson asks.
“None. Sorry. It did not occur to me to make reservations anywhere. I know it’s shocking that I did not plan ahead, but I got caught up in the excitement of today. Although, I’m finally coming off my nervous high now.”
Carson chuckles. “Good, because I made plans for us.”
“You did? Where?”
“I have a room booked for us at The Standard. You mentioned once that you like the restaurant and the High Line.”
“I love the High Line Park and I’ve always wanted to stay at The Standard. It’s perfect, but Carson, it’s so romantic and, as I recall, you were the one who gave the speech about not being Mr. Romance.” I elbow him and he puts his free hand on my waist.
“I figured I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I didn’t at least treat you to something special on your big night. Besides, you’re ninety-nine point nine percent sure that you’ll marry me someday. I’ll take those odds.”
“Aww, shucks. Don’t let it go to your head.” I pull his head down and kiss him hard, starved for his warm mouth.
“Damn. I should have offered this plan back when I saw you in Archie’s office last June. It would have saved me a lot of grief.”
“You and your goddamn
shoulds.
And yes, you really should have asked me out then.”
We hail a cab and head to the meat-packing district. As much as I love dancing, I want Carson to myself, so we skip Cielo and head straight to The Standard. At the restaurant, I go overboard on clams, crab legs and Lobster Thermidor, however, Carson keeps ordering food and I keep eating.
“Does this make up for all those chewy tuna casseroles and crunchy pasta dishes I made you?” He wipes a piece of caviar from my lip with his thumb.
“Oh yes. This is heaven.”
“Save room. There’s more.”
“Not possible. I’m stuffed.”
“We’re going to walk in the park before it closes and then we’ll go back to the room.”
“I didn’t bring an overnight bag.”
“I did. I had Imogene pack some things for you. It’s already in the room.” He gives me a sly smile and it warms me all over.
“Is that why you came late to the show? You were arranging this?”
“That’s part of it. You’ll see.”
Our walk through the park is more of a chase to beat the curfew before they lock it. I am slipping and laughing in my boots. Carson picks me up, cradles me in his arms and jogs to the end of the park, amusing the other people strolling through.
Our room is on one of the highest floors with palatial views of the Hudson River.
“Who knew Jersey was so cool?” I stand at the floor-to-ceiling window as Carson puts his arms around me and rests his chin on my head.
“I have something for you and I don’t want you to freak out,” he says.
I turn in his arms and look up at him. “Jesus, when you put it like that, how can I not freak out a little? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He laughs and goes to the closet to retrieve a small, light blue, square box with a white ribbon.
“Oh sweet pancakes! I know that box. You went to Tiffany’s.” I jump back, pointing my finger accusingly.
“You spend too much time with Lois. Settle down.” He places the box in my palm.
“Carson, what are you doing?’
“You know what I’m doing,” he says, tugging on the white ribbon. “Listen, my brother had the right idea, but he was the wrong guy for you. Open it. Now.”
I stare at the box and then at him.
“Jess. Now.” He’s very good with demands because his sexy voice and gorgeous face make it difficult to resist.
I pull off the ribbon and drop the velvet box into my palm. When I flip open the lid and gape at the wide platinum band with diamonds all around it, Carson drops to one knee on the floor.
“This is why Imogene had me pick out a ring when she was looking at jewelry sites. I thought it was for shits and giggles, but she was doing research for you. That’s how you knew to buy a band and not a solitaire.”
“I prepared.” He smiles.
“You’re really going to do this?” I ask, feeling thrilled and scared at the same time.
“Yes, I am.” He takes the ring out of the box and holds it out to me. “You’re not the only one with plans. I came up with my own and I want you to hear me out before you say anything, okay?”
I nod.
“I can’t be shown up by my little brother and I know what you said about being too young for marriage, but I decided I’m going to propose to you anyway. A wise old man once told me that he waited too long to propose to the woman he loved and—”
“Oh God, not the Archie story. Carson, I’ve heard that one.”
“Yeah, who hasn’t? Bag that one. Okay, how about this? I want you to live with me. I want to turn my home office into your studio so you can paint out on that terrace you like so much. We’ll set up your computer equipment in the downstairs bedroom and turn that into your office. You keep Gin’s home, rent it to the girls or have them live there for free, whatever you want. Naturally, Bert will live with us. I want you to accept this ring now and wear it. Then, for the next one thousand and ninety-five days, we can say we’re engaged until you feel ready to get married. I know you generally like bigger numbers, especially seventy million for some reason, but how does one thousand and ninety-five work for you?”
“Yes, I like that number. It’s a good one.”
“Are you saying yes?”
“I love you. How about thirty?”
“I love you, too. But thirty? The number thirty? Are we talking about the same thing?”
“Yes, the number of days until we get married. Dylan will be back home, so he can be your best man and we can have all the important people there. Our family.” The confidence surges through me, dispelling any and all doubts that have ever crossed my mind about Carson.
Now it’s his turn to gape.
“Damn, that’s a really small number and you’re good with that?” His mouth curves into a wide smile.
“Yes. I love you, Carson. I want to marry you now, not later. I’ve put in so many years of school, studying and preparing while also putting off happiness for work and academic accomplishments. My parents and professors said my rewards would come later. I’ve had a lifetime of
laters
.”
“Me, too.” Carson stands and puts the ring on my finger. “It’s Mrs. Blackard in thirty days, baby.”
“That’s Babycakes to you.”
Carson embraces me and we kiss hungrily as I begin to cry joyfully, tears of contentment pouring out of me. “You’re happy, right?” Carson asks, wiping a tear with his thumb.
“Unbelievably happy.” I laugh. “Never stop kissing me.
“Never.”
Acknowledgements
Much love and gratitude goes to my family. While writing, I ignored them a lot, often forgetting meals and civil conversation. They are truly a forgiving bunch, and despite my ability to be lost in my own world most of the time, my family keeps encouraging me to write.
To my friends, thank you for being so patient while I ramble on about fictional characters as if they are a part of our circle of friends - and for the great input you all provided. I couldn’t ask for a better support system.
To my wonderful editing team at C&D Editing, Kristin Campbell and Alizon Duckwall, thank you for making Fearsome a better book. Your professional skills and virtual hand-holding were an absolute necessity, and Serenity Valle’s keen eye added the perfect polish.
To Aaron Campbell, thank you for my cool website and being patient with all of my inane questions and ideas.
And to all my author buddies online and in the real world, thank you for being so generous with advice and support!
About the Author
S. A. Wolfe lives with her wonderfully loud, opinionated children and husband. She is a voracious reader and passionate about writing, and when those two activities don’t keep her locked away in her room, she loves hiking mountains as much as she adores all the thrills New York City has to offer.
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Fearsome
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S. A. Wolfe
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