Tuesday, December 0
4 days until the wedding
Gwen
Caleb Lawson has about a million ways of kissing. Sometimes hard and fast. Sometimes sweet and slow. This is his teasing way, where he presses his mouth to mine in a series of firm kisses, then retreats. My lips chase his, and he returns to me this time with a gentle kiss, soft as butterfly wings. I sigh, content in his arms.
The world melts away.
There’s only us.
Minutes, hours, an eternity passes where all I see is him. All I feel are his strong arms around me, holding tight. Finally, he pulls away. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with a soft, “I love you, Gwen.”
How I adore that sound—the way he says my name.
GweN.
Round G, flat N.
I’ll never grow tired of hearing him say it. Never tire of holding this priceless man in my arms, of sharing my life with him. Thank goodness I won’t ever have to give it up because in two weeks’ time we’re getting married. I’ll be his wife, and he’ll be my husband, united forever.
“Love you, too.” I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his spicy cinnamon scent, and sigh mournfully. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“Me too.” He cups the back of my head, threading his fingers into my hair.
“It’s the worst timing with the wedding so soon.” I pull away and throw my arm over my face, but not before I spy the mistletoe that hangs from the ceiling in his living room. It spins and swings, dangling on a long string right over our heads. Caleb put it there earlier today as a surprise for me. He knows I love the holidays. He said it was to “get us in a Christmas mood.”
I slide my arm down and peek at him over the top of it. “I still can’t believe we convinced our families to let us have the wedding on Christmas Eve.”
Caleb laughs, sending the couch cushions shaking. “It didn’t take much convincing. Once our moms proposed it as a way to have family reunions and to spend Christmas together, everyone got on board real quick.”
I drop my arm and sigh. “That makes me leaving even worse. I want everything to be perfect for our families who are flying in. I should be here to help.”
Caleb turns to face me. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to go. I mean, it’s huge. The American Cancer Society asks you, a resident, to come to its conference and give a talk about your colon cancer research. You can tell everyone how they’re supposed to start screening at age 45.”
That makes me grin. “Look at you, smarty pants,” I tease. “You’re getting an honorary medical degree just from hanging out with me.”
Caleb smiles back. “I do listen to you, Dr. Wright.” He tickles my ribs when he says my name, sending me into a fit of giggles. “Besides, you’ll only be gone for a little over a week, and it’s in L.A., so you can visit your mom and Teddy before the conference starts. It’s perfect. When you get back, we’ll still have a couple of days to finish any last-minute details before the wedding.”
He’s right. It’s winter break, so my mother is off from her job teaching in Japan. She’s spending the next couple of weeks here in the States. First, she’ll stay in California, checking on her house there and on my younger brother, Teddy. After she’s done in California, Mom will fly here to New York to meet up with my newly minted stepdad, Seth, who is also Caleb’s uncle. Once she arrives, she can assist Caleb’s mom, Marjorie, who’s been making wedding arrangements.
With me working over 90 hours a week in the hospital and Caleb juggling acting on Broadway and managing his restaurants, we’re too busy to plan the wedding on our own.
“My family will beat me back here. Mom, Brandon, and Teddy will all fly into New York before I’m done with the conference.” I lean my cheek against the back of the couch.
Caleb chuckles. “Do you think we’ll survive it? Both our mothers working together?”
I laugh with him. “We may end up with 500 people at the wedding and a dancing elephant, but I think we’ll live.”
“My mom would for sure be the one to order the elephant,” he agrees.
“Yes, she would.”
We’ve kept Marjorie on track so far, but we’ve had to shoot down some crazy ideas of hers, like releasing 00 doves over us as we say our vows. Caleb had shaken his head at that one. “Bird poop, Mom. No way do I want our guests ducking and covering.”
Then there was the giant ice sculpture that she almost ordered. “Don’t worry, kids,” she’d told us, “we’ll keep the room temperature at 55 degrees, so it won’t melt too fast.” Even though it’s a winter wedding, I’ve chosen a sleeveless dress. A fact that I reminded her of, stating, “I’d rather not be covered in goosebumps all night.”
The truth is, we need her help. We’ve only been engaged for six months, not a lot of time to plan a wedding, but once Caleb placed that diamond on my finger, we rushed to make it official. It felt right to celebrate our union during the holidays, my father’s favorite season.
Caleb runs his thumb, rough with guitar string calluses, slowly over my cheek as I stare back. He’s gorgeous, relaxed and happy. His bright aqua eyes shine. His golden hair has grown longer, curling over the tops of his ears. His muscles, all those gorgeous, sculpted muscles, shift as he runs his thumb down my jaw and then over my lips. Almost two years together and I still can’t get enough.
I suck in a breath, overcome by it—my love for him. It’s a deep, deep pool I could swim in forever.
“I love it when you look at me like that,” he says softly.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your favorite thing.”
The curl of my smile brushes against his fingertip. “That’s because you are.” I lean forward to run my nose along his and then whisper in his ear, “My favorite.”
When I pull back, I expect him to be happy, but he’s not. There’s a wrinkle between his eyes as he frowns.
“What if you stop feeling that way?” he asks, suddenly forlorn. “What if you change your mind? Love is fragile, and life is long. How many people have found love only to lose it?”
I move closer, pressing my body along his. I soak up his warmth and return it back to him. “Those people aren’t us, Caleb. We won’t lose this. It’s you and me, forever and always. Remember? We promised.”
Both of us are silent for a minute, recalling how we broke that promise once before, about how he left me. But then he returned, and my once-shattered heart was glued back together, stronger than ever.
That worried furrow in his brow remains. “But—”
I silence him with a kiss.
I know this Caleb. This is anxious Caleb. Insecure Caleb. He’s told me before that it’s times like this, when the what-ifs of life have overwhelmed him, when he’s ended up with a bottle in his hand and alcohol on his tongue. That’s not going to happen anymore. I’m here, and I’ll soothe away those worries. I’ll comfort him like he comforts me. Sometimes I think we take turns freaking out, with one of us spiraling into darkness and the other pulling us back into the light. Looks like it’s my chance to be the savior today.
I kiss him breathless, until I feel his body relax under my touch, and only then do I stop. “There’s no world where we aren’t end game,” I tell him. “With everything we’ve already been through, all the obstacles we’ve overcome, you’re the one for me, and I can’t wait—” I choke on my words, tears building in the back of my throat. “I can’t wait to put on my white dress and walk down that aisle to you. Heck, I’ll run down it if you’re there at the end waiting for me.”
He gives me my special smile, small and tender, brimming with love. “I’ll be there. I’d wait for you for a million years and then a million more.”
I melt, my body folding around him as my mouth seeks his. He kisses me like he’s memorizing the shape of me, the sound of my sighs, the taste of my lips.
“I wish you’d take the jet,” he murmurs into my mouth.
I push away with a huff. “We’ve already talked about this.”
Caleb runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Come on, Gwen. I own an airplane. This is what it’s meant for. Use it.”
“I don’t want to be like that,” I counter, frustrated that we’re discussing this again.
“Like what?”
I push away and stare at the wall, refusing to meet his eyes. They say a storm is coming, but for now, the sky outside the window is clear. Dawn splashes rays of rosy pink, yellow, and orange across the room. Normally, the sight would send me scrambling for my paintbrush to capture those transient hues, but not with how aggravated this conversation makes me.
I answer his question. “You know that I want to travel in coach like a normal person, at least for now.”
He tenses next to me. “How do you not understand? You can’t be that way, not if you’re going to be with me. There’s nothing normal about my life.”
I’m aware I’m frustrating him. That I’m full of contradictions. With one hand I cling to who I’ve always been, but with the other hand I eagerly grasp for who I’ll be in the future, once I become his wife.
I can’t have both.
I have to let one go, but it’s hard.
I sigh, equally frustrated. “I get that, but for now I can still go out and not be recognized.”
“That won’t last,” he argues. “After this wedding, everyone will know who you are and what you mean to me.”
This isn’t just an argument about the airplane. It’s about where I end and he begins. It’s about how to balance his fame and my day-to-day life. It’s about fitting the discordant pieces of our lives together like the jigsaw puzzle we completed years ago.
Caleb says, “Already, the paparazzi are sending out their spies. Trying to figure out where the venue is and who’s catering the wedding.” He picks up my hand and presses a kiss to my palm, then curls my fingers over it, so I hold the sensation of his touch.
The corners of his mouth tug down. “I hate to think of you out there, where people might be mean to you or judge you or hurt your feelings, all because of me.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, if someone recognizes me, I can handle it. I’m not scared of the press. Remember, I’ve dealt with them before. I need you to trust me, Caleb. Trust that I’m strong enough.”
This is an old wound, a painful one. Fear of exposing me to the harsh realities of his fame was the main reason Caleb left me before. I’m determined to prove him wrong. Show him I can withstand the pressure that comes with being his wife. I’m tired of him underestimating me.
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he murmurs, refusing to look at me.
“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him once more. “Alvina will be with me. She’ll visit with her cousins in L.A. while I go to my lectures.”
“Well…,” Caleb says, drawing out the word, trepidation written all over it. “I did a thing.”
“What?” I whip my head up to him, immediately suspicious.
“I know you’re not worried, my brave lion-hearted fiancée, but I am, so Wayne’s coming with you. I booked him a ticket and got him a seat next to you.” He says the last part as fast as he can and then squeezes his eyes shut, scared to see my reaction.
“What!” My voice echoes off the hand-laid bamboo floor of his penthouse apartment as I picture the thin-faced tabloid reporter turned friend.
One aqua eye cracks open and, not liking what it sees, closes again. “Wayne’s going,” he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
He’s marrying the wrong woman if he thinks I’ll give in that easily.
I hate giving in.
“No way,” I insist. “It’ll be fine. I love Wayne and all, but I don’t need him.”
Both his eyes fly open. Caleb sits up, his back ramrod straight, and glares down at me. “I wanted to send one of my bodyguards, like Dean, but I knew you would hate that, so Wayne’s going instead. He’ll be my eyes and ears out there. He can spot the press a mile away.”
“Because he is the press.” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“Exactly.” He nods like I just proved his point.
“Wayne will probably be on the job himself. I bet he’s going so he can hang out at the airport and take pictures of other celebrities who’re traveling. You know what he always says, ‘Business is business.’”
“That may be true, but he’ll still keep an eye on you.”
“Caleb,” I growl, my temper rising, “I’m a grown woman. I can look out for myself.”
He sighs and hangs his head, shoulders slumping. For a moment, I flashback to when we were broken up. How he had sat like this a year and a half ago. When he had turned back to the bottle and let his alcoholism take over. It’s hard, seeing him this way, so I force myself to calm down. He’s trying to protect me. Sending Wayne to California is his way of saying he loves me. That he needs me safe.
“Fine.” I relent. “Wayne can come, but he and Alvina are going to fight like cats and dogs, as usual. I’m warning you now. I’ll call every night and complain about it.”
Caleb’s relief is instantaneous. “Thank goodness. I thought we were heading toward a huge argument.” He settles back down next to me and mutters, “You can be so stubborn.”
“Who?” I say with mock indignation, widening my eyes. “Me? I’ll have you know I’m a very reasonable person.”
We both laugh. He’s right. Sometimes I can be incredibly stubborn. It’s a trait that’s gotten me through rough times. Medical school. My broken engagement. When my dad died. Once we’ve quieted, I tell him, “I don’t want to fight with you. Not when I have to leave in an hour.”
An ache, deep and piercing, gnaws at my chest as the reality of leaving him sinks in. This is the first time we’ll be apart since we became engaged. Ever since we got back from Tokyo last summer, we’ve spent almost all our free time together. It had been easy, a seamless transition to us spending time together.
Probably because we’d done it once before, almost two years ago, when we spent a month in my mother and Seth’s house in Los Angeles. Back then Caleb had hidden in that house, one I was already living in, on the run from his fame. That’s when we first fell in love, only to break up a month later when the paparazzi found us. It had taken months apart and then months getting reacquainted until our relationship found solid ground. Now, I can’t imagine not seeing him at least once a day.
Caleb throws his leg over mine, the weight heavy and familiar. He likes to cuddle like this, with one leg on me, like he’s a human blanket pinning me down.
“I can think of more enjoyable ways to spend this time.”
I inch closer and smirk. “What exactly did you have in mind? For things to do until I go?”
“Oh, future wife. I’ve got ideas.” His voice lowers, all mysterious.
I giggle at the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
His arm comes around, and he pulls me close. All my remaining tension seeps away. Attraction ignites, burning between us. It’s always there, simmering, waiting like I’m kerosene and he’s the spark.
“Future wife,” I say, right before his lips meet mine. “I like the sound of that.”