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It’s an old-fashioned gold locket, and when I open it, a miniature copy of our first ultrasound is taped in place with our initials engraved on the back.
“Do you like it, kitten?” this man I love desperately asks as he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my chest.
“I love it,” I tell him as I hand it to him and lift my hair. “Would you put it on me?”
He fixes the clasp, then fixes my hair, and I turn to face him, then burst into tears.
Because now, in his hand is a beautiful diamond ring.
“You didn’t think it was going to just be that locket, did you?” He smiles and wipes the tears from my eyes. “Don’t cry, Caitie. I love you. I want to spend my life loving you. I want to vow it to you in front of our friends and family. I want you and our baby to know you will always have me in this life and whatever comes next. Marry me, Caitlin.”
I can barely push the words past my lips, the tears are coming so hard, but somehow, I manage. “Yes, Callen... Yes, I’ll marry you.”
If ten-year-old Caitlin could possibly be told this is how her life would turn out, she’d never believe it. Or maybe she would. I guess there’s a reason I never gave up on this man.
Four orgasms later, and I’m barely lucid, lying on the bed, my diamond ring reflecting the candlelight flickering from around our bedroom. This man thought of everything. He lies behind me, supporting my back as I tangle my legs with his, trying but failing to get comfortable. “Maddox wants to be my best man.”
“Oh yeah? Maddox knew?” I ask with a lazy, scratchy voice.
May have screamed a little too loud.
Callen waits a beat as his hand stops the lazy long strokes up and down my arm. “Yeah. I needed his help finding out when your dad was going to be home.”
I whip my head around so fast, I actually see stars. “What are you talking about? Why did you need to know that?”
I haven’t spoken to my father since that day in December when I left his house.
He needs to apologize, but he never will because that means admitting he’s wrong. And when it comes to his business, he’ll never admit that.
Even when he did reach out, the messages he left were defending himself, not apologizing for hurting me.
“I wanted to ask him for his permission to marry you,” he tells me as if that was the right thing to do.
“And. Did. He. Give. It?” I bite out, pissed and hurt. Pissed that my father would talk to Callen but not to me. And equally hurt for the same reason.
“His blessing, yes. I basically ended up telling him I didn’t need his permission. I was marrying you with or without that, but giving his blessing could possibly be the first step in bridging the gap between you both.” He tucks my head under his and tries to relax me into submission.
News flash.
It doesn’t work.
“And what else happened?” I ask, needing to know everything.
“Well, let’s see. Your mom gave Lucky shit. Your Uncle Cade offered me a shot. I wrapped my hands around your Uncle Becket’s throat, and I got your mom and dad’s blessings.”
His hand restarts its journey as I lie here, dumbfounded.
“Are we just going to act like you didn’t strangle my uncle?” I question.
“Yeah, babe. We’re going to skip over that to the part where I think you should talk to your dad.”
I want to sit up quickly and glare at him, but the giant fucking beach ball of a belly I’m rocking these days kinda prohibits that. “Are you insane?”
I know talking to him won’t get me anywhere.
I’ve grown up in this world.
Until now, Callen has been on the periphery.
