Chapter 38 The Messenger
\-Celeste-
“Fae says she was very impressed with your work, and wants to collaborate with you in the future… She also send her apologies concerning the whole situation with Bianca,” David explained.
He had dropped in at the cake shop about an hour ago, and since then, he hadn’t shown a single sign to leave.
I knew it was because of Denise. I could see the way his eyes followed when she walked by.
We talked about a lot of things, from future projects and collaborations to goals and dreams.
Then, out of nowhere, he asked about my mother. “Do you believe she’s really dead?”
His tone was calm, but there was something in it, something that made me hesitate. Like he expected me not to believe she was.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “But with everything going on… I’m starting to think there’s more to the story than I know. She died when I was four.”
He nodded slowly, then paused as if he wanted to say more, but before he could, the bell above the entrance chimed.
The door swung open, and the person who entered made my chest tighten.
My father.
His lips curved into a faint smile. “Hello, Celeste.”
Never in a million years did I expect he’d show up here. I didn’t know what to say.
At that moment, David rose to his feet, saying he would come back at a different time. He quietly greeted my father, then walked away. While Dad stared, watching him like Grandma had done when she first saw him. It felt like déjà vu.
I lead him to a different booth, away from the prying eyes of the customers that were starting to stare.
He glanced around with a half-smile, fingers drumming against the table. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” he grinned, “You mother would have been so proud of you.”
A small smile tugged my lips, “Thank you… Um, can I offer you something?” I politely asked,
“No, it’s fine, I won’t be here for long,” he replied.
“Oh.” I said dryly. Why bother?
We fell into an awkward silence after that.
I wanted to say more than that, to ask what it had been like when she ran the place. I wanted to tell him that I felt her here sometimes, but the bridge between us was too wide to even start.
“How have you been?” he finally said, like it was the best he could do…
“Fine,” I muttered. Whatever this was, it was clearly being forced.
“Is there a specific reason why you came?” I blurted, then bit the insides of my cheeks. I probably sounded too harsh.
He gave a small nod, “I was worried you wouldn’t pick up,” he said. “That’s why I had to come… I personally came to invite you and your husband for dinner.”
I shot upright, and my eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“Yes… I think it’s time we put our differences behind us and accept what’s to come.”
I gently shook my head, opening my mouth to protest—
“Your grandmother insists,” he added, and realization dawned on me.
Dad was just doing what he had always been, delivering messages.
My hands curled into fists on my laps. How pathetic.
“I can’t. It won’t be possible,” I said firmly. I couldn’t imagine sitting at a dinner table with them.
He pressed on, like he was afraid of getting punished when he got home. “It’s a time to bond. To meet your husband. Call him now. If he can’t come, it’s fine.”
I knew Lucien would probably say no, but I hesitated before I called him.
To my surprise and disbelief, he agreed.
I tried to bring up work. “Do you have things to finish up there?”
“It’s fine,” he quietly told me. “Family is more important…I will hold it off, and I’ll pick you up at six.” After that, he hung up.
I exhaled softly. Was he being serious right now?
Dad smiled like he had won. I hated it.
“Seems to me that Mr. Blackwell absolutely cares about getting to know the family,” he smiled, rising to his feet, “I’ll you in the evening.”
I watched him leave and slumped onto the table.
What am I going to do now? I could already imagine the questions.
“Why did he just say yes like that?”
Denise plopped down beside me. “Do you notice how awfully similar David and your dad looked?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I frowned. “That’s crazy. I didn’t. You must be seeing things. David clearly has those French-boy genes and my father has none,” I said with a smirk.
Denise insisted, teasing. “No, really! Look at them!”
I froze for a second. “Wait… are you saying my father had a secret child?”
She smirked, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking, or if something else was lurking behind her grin.
Either way, it was the least of my concern at the moment. My thoughts kept drifting to dinner with family, and to Lucien.
When he arrived, he was as calm and unbothered as ever.
The car ride was silent throughout, but questions lingered on my mind, and I had to ask. “Shouldn’t we go over our origin story, you know, like…like how we met, how we fell in love… I feel like they’re going to ask.”
His eyes were focused on the road, his expression unreadable. “Pick anything,” he said softly, “I’ll go with it.”
“And if they ask other questions?”
He briefly turned to me, “We’ll answer them.”
When we arrived, he was already at my side. He opened the car door for me, that quiet, effortless presence making my heart race.
As soon as I stepped out, he pulled a small box from his coat pocket. “Give me your hand,” he murmured.
I obeyed, and his fingers brushed mine as he slid a beautiful diamond ring onto my finger. I flushed, my heart skipping a beat.
I stared at the ring, barely able to process how real it felt, or how much I wanted to cling to him right now.
He smirked lightly. “They’ll be too focused on the ring to ask questions.”
Then he gestured for me to take his hands. “Shall we?”