Chapter 61: Rob

“That tall skinny man said you two were back here.” Trig smiles at Beth. “Hey, Beth. How’s it going?”

Beth shrugs. “Same old, same old. I’m not engaged, or pregnant, or selling truckloads of overpriced furniture, or anything, but I’m good.”

Trig pins Geo with a stare.

She moans. “It slipped out, okay? Mary’s pregnant and, I just, look, you can’t be mad. I’m too excited.”

Trig slings an arm around Geo’s shoulder. “Prepare yourself, Rob. You can’t stay mad at the woman you love for very long, no matter what she does. And I’m discovering it’s even harder when you know she’s going to have a baby.”

I grin at them. “Congratulations. I was just telling Geo I’d be happy to custom design some furniture for your nursery.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be delighted to sell our jet and use the proceeds to buy a crib from you.”

I laugh. “Hardly. And no matter what Geo says, it will be my gift.”

Trig shakes his head. “I could turn around and sell that jewelry box for a hundred times what I paid for it right now. And you already gave us the cabinet and the table for our wedding present. It’s too much. Especially now that I know your stuff sells for hundreds of thousands. Congratulations, Rob.”

“Thanks.”

“What did Brekka say about all this?”

I shake my head. “She didn’t bite. I asked her to come. Several times in fact, but she said she couldn’t make it.”

Trig’s tilts his head and looks at me like I’m wearing polyester.

“Uh, you sure?”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Trig grins his sideways grin. “It means I just saw her outside, wheeling around and drooling over some kind of buffet table.”

My heart rate spikes and my hands tremble. “No, you didn’t.”

He slashes his finger in the shape of an x over his chest. “Cross my selfish little heart.”

I shoot out of the room, eyes scanning, but everyone is so dang tall. I can’t see past the crush of people. How could Brekka navigate through this stupid exhibit at all?

“Rob?”

Her voice stops my heart dead. I’m sure I’ll slump to my knees any second and then keel over. Except somehow my feet turn around, and my head turns around and my heart starts beating again, and suddenly, there she is. Her perfect smile, her fringy hair falling in her eyes, and her delicate hands folded in her lap.

I push past the woman who’s talking to me, and the man who’s pointing at something and asking me a question.

“Pardon me,” I say absently. “I need a moment.”

I kneel in front of Brekka and cup her face in my hands. The rest of the room dissolves, and the chatter falls quiet all around me. “You came.”

She bobs her head, the skin of her cheeks sliding past the palms of my hands, silky smooth against work-worn rough. “I came.”

“How did you know? I wanted to surprise you, but you said you were busy.”

She laughs, the sound like a songbird trilling with joy. “This time I’m the one surprising you for once. Was it a good surprise?”

“The best.” Then I lean down and kiss her, claiming her mouth with mine. Telling her with the urgency of my kiss that I needed her here. I needed her to see my success, because without her it doesn’t mean anything. I broke with my family and struck out on my own because she told me I could. She’s been there encouraging me, every step of the way as the voice in my head, telling me to try try try.

At first, there’s only her mouth, and my fist in her hair, and my fingers on her knee. The barest touch of her hand tracing my jaw. Her lips against mine. And then I notice other things. Like cheering and laughing that’s somehow surrounding us.

I pull back and Brekka blushes bright red. Everyone in the room is staring at us.

“The wife, I assume?” Andrea Vanderblat asks with a gargantuan grin.

“That’s Brekka Thornton,” someone else murmurs. “Victoria’s daughter.”

“Bernard’s daughter,” someone else says.

“She’s married? I thought she died.”

I roll my eyes. “Apparently a few other people are interested in your surprise, too.” I stand up.

“Brekka Thornton’s my girlfriend, not my wife. Not yet anyway.”

Everyone claps and cheers.

“I’ll be sure to let everyone know when our status changes,” I say. “Maybe a Twitter blast. How’s that?”

More cheering. Oh, please.

Brekka’s grinning at me when I glance back down, so at least she’s not upset.

I head back for the side room, Brekka right behind me. Once we’re there, I drop down to one knee again. “Sorry about that. I forgot where we were momentarily.”

“The mark of a successful surprise.” She glances down at her lap and wrings her hands. “I’m still your girlfriend?” Her voice is small, too small.

I take her hands in mine, my large fingers enveloping hers entirely. “If you want to be.”

She looks back at me, her dark, full lashes framing eyes full of hope. “It’s all I want.”

“Then why have you been hiding?” I ask. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.” She shakes her head. “And I’m not hiding, not exactly.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on, then?”

“I am. That’s why I came this weekend. Well, that and to buy some outrageously priced furniture, apparently.”

I beam at her. “I have no idea what’s going on. It’s like a house full of barracudas, and I’m the recipient of all their violent energy.”

“That’s an apt description of my social circle,” she says. “And I said it was outrageously priced. I didn’t say it wasn’t worth every penny.”

“Well, even if you don’t get something tonight, I saved one thing back at the shop that I thought you might like.”

Her eyes light up. “You did?”

I nod my head. “I’d love to show it to you, if you have time.”

She nods. “Absolutely.”

“Maybe we can go back there and talk.”

Someone taps on the doorframe and I turn. Mr. Tate pokes his head around the corner. “Got a second?”

What now? “Yeah?”

“We’re closing the auction on the charity items in ten minutes. We extended it half an hour as a courtesy.”

“Courtesy to whom?” I ask.

“Last minute bidders,” he says.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. Won’t there always be last minute bidders?”

“These bids were called in.”

“What?” I ask. “From where?”

“Many of our guests tonight have been posting on social media.” Mr. Tate beams. “To say you’re trending is an understatement.”

“Okay,” I say. “Well, that’s good.”

“I thought you might like to be there for a press release,” he says. “Your face is good branding, and several of the major networks have sent camera crews. They’d like you to announce the amount you’re donating. Your friend Clive is also here, ready to accept your donation on behalf of Cultivate.”

I turn toward Brekka. She beams at me. “Go, I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m so proud of you, Rob. For all of it. Plus, it sounds like I have some last minute bids to make now that there’s time.”

She follows me out the door, but I head for the dining room we designated as the pressroom, and Brekka turns toward the main living area. I wonder what she’s bidding on, but when I reach the press area any thoughts in my brain evaporate. I’m immediately bombarded with questions.