"Libby is a lucky girl!" Janet calls out.
We play three more rounds before Linda The Sex Toy Goddess thinks we're sufficiently warmed up to move on to talking about the sex toys. For the next two hours, we pass around samples of every sex toy imaginable, including some I didn't even realize existed.
"Is this what I think it is?" I ask, holding a cylindrical object with what looks like a mouth in an "O" position on the end.
"That's in case you get sick of giving Caulter blow jobs," Bailey says loudly.
I furrow my brow, passing it to Andrea, sitting beside me.
"Yeah, that's not a problem," I say, picturing him standing in front of me, the head of his cock against my tongue, my hand wrapped around the base of his huge dick.
Get sick of having Caulter's cock in my mouth? I don’t think so.
Several of the girls whoop. "Caulter must have a big one," Janet says.
"I don't like them big," April muses, and one of my other bridesmaids elbows her.
"What's wrong with you?" Andrea asks.
"I don't! It's like that saying, it's not the size that counts? Right?"
"That's just what you say to guys with small dicks," Hailey chimes in.
"No, I swear, I'm perfectly happy with a small one," April says.
"You should hook up with my ex-boyfriend Greg, then," Hailey says. "He's definitely about the right size. I'll give you his number."
"Ladies," Linda The Sex Toy Goddess interrupts. "The next set of toys I'll pass around are for anal play."
"Anal play," April says, her face turning bright red. "Nothing's going up my butt, thanks."
"I love it in the ass," Andrea says. "Seriously, if you haven't done it, you don't know what you're missing."
"She's right," Janet says as she scrutinizes a pink butt plug like it’s a diamond. "It makes everything more intense."
“I like it,” I say softly.
“Then you need to buy these,” Andrea says, tossing a vibrating butt plug at me with one hand, while she waves a cocktail glass in the other.
“But you’re pregnant!” April says, her face ashen.
“So?” Janet says. “I did it all the time during the third trimester during my last pregnancy. Jason said it was better for the baby."
"Better for the baby?" Bailey says, snorting loudly. "Yeah, I think Jason just wanted to stick his dick in your ass."
"No, I swear it is!" Janet insists. "Because you're not poking around the cervix."
"Pfft," Bailey spits out her drink. "I'm pretty sure regular sex is fine during pregnancy too."
“She’s right about the cervix thing, though. At least, that’s what Caulter claims, too,” I say, laughing.
“I’ll take one of those butt plugs,” Libby says, winking at Bailey.
"I'm so getting lucky tonight," Bailey says, laughing. Then she looks at me. "What’s Caulter doing for his bachelor party?"
I shrug. "No idea. He’s probably motor boating a stripper right now. He texted me earlier that he luffs me," I say, holding up my phone to a cacophony of "awes."
"Who knew that Caulter Sterling would be such a doting finance?" Sara asks.
I laugh. Sara was my roommate at Brighton. She remembers Caulter the way he arrived at Brighton Academy -- a rebel against everything, angry at the world, and eager to get between the legs of any hot girl who threw herself at him. Which happened a lot. "He's doting in his own way," I say.
A way that involves hiding my panties even now, and calling me Princess when he comes on me, and breaking my bed in my father's house because he's fucking me so hard.
I guess that can be considered doting. Right?
"I'm sure he'll come home tomorrow covered in stripper glitter, sporting a tattoo he regrets,” I say.
"Speaking of glitter," Linda The Sex Toy Goddess says, "here's your very own edible glitter body dust."
"Glitter!" Libby says. "I'm sold."
One glow-in-the-dark butt plug that vibrates, three kinds of flavored lube, a dildo, a new vibrator, and a pair of handcuffs later, I'm ready for my honeymoon.
But, not before we play a relay race, which involves passing a giant dildo down the line of girls standing beside me, using no hands.
Somehow I even manage to stay awake past ten p.m., before crawling sleepily into one of the hotel suite beds, listening to the laughter of my friends in the suite.
And I sleep until ten in the morning, which about now is a freaking holiday miracle. I don’t even get up a hundred times during the night to pee!
It’s not until I've tiptoed to the bathroom, past the snoring bodies of my hung-over bridesmaids, and brushed my teeth that I come back to bed and open my phone.
I don’t recognize the phone number attached to the text message. It's just a link to a gossip website and a message that repeats the headline on the website:
Oh my. Is that former bad boy, soon-to-be-married Caulter Sterling with a very hot, very not-his-fiancé girl draped all over his arm? Looks like they were cozy at the Celtics game last night. Does a leopard change his spots? Or is it once a bad boy, always a bad boy? Comment below, readers.
I read the comments, my heart sinking, even though I know I shouldn’t. Readers are overwhelmingly certain that Caulter Sterling is definitely still a bad boy.
CHAPTER TEN
Caulter
My head is pounding as the limo returns me to the lake house, even though I was by no means wasted last night. I'm too old to drink malt liquor, I think, shaking my head. Hell, I never even drank that shit when I was a teenager.
I text Kate for the third time this morning. She hasn't responded to any of my messages, which is unusual for her.
Out too late last night? Hope you got a private lap dance.
If you didn't, I'd be happy to give you one...in five minutes.
In case I wasn’t clear…I want to put my dick in your face.
I'm walking toward the house when I get pinged on my phone, a message from Bryan.
Dude. Don’t freak out, but you’re on the internet with that chick from the game.
Fuck. I swipe the screen on my phone, pouring over the gossip websites. The photo of me and Debra the Psycho and her friend, what’s-her-name, is plastered everywhere. Psycho chick is leaning close to me, laughing with her hand on my leg.
That doesn’t look good.
Shit.
This is exactly what I need right before my wedding. Just when my pregnant fiancé is having doubts about my readiness to settle down.
"Is Kate home from her bachelorette party?" I ask Ella, who's standing inside talking to the wedding planner about the rehearsal dinner.
"She's napping in the guest house, I think," Ella says. When she goes back to talking to the wedding planner, I breathe a sigh of release. At least the photo isn’t widespread public knowledge yet.
Then Ella turns around. "Oh, and Caulter?"
"What?"
She walks toward me, her expression concerned, and takes my arm, talking to me softly. "It's all over the internet," she says.
"What is?" I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
"You and those two girls last night." Ella gives me a look like she's disappointed in me.
"Are you kidding me?" I ask, my voice tense. It’s the look of disappointment that gets me, like deep down she expected this from me. "Do you think I cheated on Kate last night with two chicks at a basketball game?"
"I know that men freak out before getting married," Ella says, looking at me sternly.
"I'm surprised you can even furrow your brow like that, mother," I say, sarcastically. "With your forehead pumped full of collagen."
"That’s not what freezes your face,” she says. “And besides, I haven’t done any of that lately. I’m aging gracefully now. Don't try to change the subject. What are you going to do about Kate?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. "Nothing happened. Do you really think I'm that much of an idiot? You think I'd hook up with two bleached bl
onde bimbos at a bachelor party when I'm getting married to my pregnant finance?"
Ella gives me a look. "It doesn't matter if you did or not," she says. "The photo looks --"
I don't give her a chance to respond. "Like it was taken out of context?”
I don’t see the need to point out that despite the fact that I warned him about Psycho Chick, Joe went to the hotel room last night with both of them. But then, Joe has always been kind of a loose cannon anyway. He’s one of those friends I’ve known for so long that I shrug off his crazy antics.
Ella clucks her tongue against her teeth. "It looks inappropriate," she says. "My PR person can issue a statement. We should do damage control."
"I don't need to do damage control," I say, irritation taking over. "Because I didn't do anything. Someone grabbed a photo that is entirely out of context, and posted it on a blog. It's a stupid gossip site."
"It's not one gossip site, Caulter," Ella says. "It's a number of them. You and Kate are back in the public eye now, you know that. Between Kate's father and I, and your history in the media – and now this – you need to expect interest in the wedding.”
"I don't want to talk about this right now," I insist. "Has Kate seen the blogs?"
Ella looks at me warily. "I didn't tell her," she says.
"But she's seen them?"
"I think so," Ella said. "She didn't want to talk. She said she was going to take a nap."
Shit.
Well, surely Kate knows me well enough by now to know that I wouldn't cheat on her. I mean, why would she be marrying me if she didn't trust me?
But Kate isn't in the guesthouse, after all. And when I trek back to the main house to ask Rose about it, she tells me she thinks Kate is probably at her mother's grave. "You know she goes out there sometimes," she says. "Before something as monumental as a wedding, she'll want to talk to her."
"That's probably why she isn't responding to her phone," I say, reassuring myself that something as silly as a misconstrued photo would not get between us, but I'm not sure I'm even convincing myself.
Then I remember the last time something got uploaded to the internet -- the Brighton Bingo card, and my heart sinks.
Rose slides a plate of freshly baked bread toward me. "Take this to the Senator," she says. "He's out on the patio."
She gives me a look that tells me not to argue with her.
"Yes, ma'am," I say, and she tsk-tsks me.
"Don't sass me," she says. But there's a twinkle in her eye, and she stops, putting her hand on mine. "And I don't think Katherine puts much stock in gossip and rumors."
Shit. Rose knows?
Kate must have talked to her about it.
That’s not reassuring. It's worse than I thought, if she talked to Rose. She talks to Rose about stuff that's bothering her, not about stuff she'd just laugh off.
I feel like I'm walking to the firing squad, as I head out to the patio to talk to the Senator. He's standing in a collared shirt and slacks, despite the cold, staring out at the lawn with a pensive expression as he smokes a cigar.
"Rose asked me to bring this to you," I say, handing him the plate.
"As long as Rose has worked for me, she's baked this bread," he says, picking up a piece. I set it down on the table on the patio and stand there for a second.
"It's good bread," I say lamely.
Great. Now I'm out here talking about baked goods with the Senator, when I really want to be telling Kate that photo meant nothing.
"I wasn't the world's best father after Katherine's mother died," he says, still looking straight ahead. "I'm – well, I think it's too late really for Katherine and I, but I'm trying to be better at it now."
I clear my throat. Kate’s father unburdening himself to me is seriously awkward. "There's still time, I'm sure."
"But you have your whole lives ahead of you," he says. "So don't screw it up."
I bristle at the Senator's implication that I'm screwing up parenthood -- and things with Kate -- already. "I'm not stupid enough to fuck up the important things in my life, Senator," I say, my words terse.
I leave the rest of it unspoken.
The way you obviously did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KATE
I'm standing at my mother's grave, in the chilly December air, my winter coat wrapped tightly around me. There's no snow on the ground here yet, but the ground is frozen, leaves crunching under my feet as I shift back and forth, trying to keep warm.
I needed to get out of the house. When I got back from the bachelorette party, Ella had already seen the gossip blogs with Caulter's photo plastered all over them, and was talking "damage control" and issuing statements. The last thing I want to think about right before my wedding is the necessity of damage control.
Of course Caulter wasn't doing anything with those girls, I told Ella, shrugging nonchalantly. "Of course not, honey," she said. But I could see the question in her eyes, and that made my heart leap in my throat.
That little nagging voice in my head helpfully offered, Once a bad boy, always a bad boy.
Fuck that voice. I know Caulter.
Right?
I came here to get away. And to see my mother before the wedding. I need her approval, even if I know I can’t get it now.
But even as I stand here, nervous thoughts intrude.
"I'm getting married in forty-eight hours, mom," I say.
At least, I hope I am.
"To Caulter. You would like him. He -- well, he used to be immature and out-of-control, and..."
Used to be.
Past tense.
I hope it’s past tense.
I hope his days of bedding a different girl every night are over.
Do bad boys really change?
I clear my throat, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. They're crazy thoughts. Completely ridiculous.
Caulter is Caulter. He's definitely not the same irresponsible boy he used to be. He's a good man. I know he is.
Bad boys can become good men.
"You'd really like him, mom," I say. "You'd love him. He makes me so happy."
He does make me happy. And the photographs are totally misleading. I'm certain of that.
"And in six weeks, I'll be a mother," I tell her. "I'm freaking out a little bit. I'm not sure I'm ready, mom. Caulter is definitely terrified. But you should see him, taking baby classes and reading books and calling the obstetrician over every little thing. He's going to be a great dad. I wish you were here to see it."
I'm suddenly flooded with emotion I can't quite contain, and I wipe away tears from my eyes before they spill down my cheeks.
"I wish she could see you now." Caulter's voice from behind me makes me jump, and I whirl around to face him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. My voice carries an edge, comes out harder than I intended.
Caulter looks at me sheepishly, his hands in his pockets. "You weren't answering your phone," he says.
"I left it in the car. It's blowing up from social media notifications."
"You know nothing happened," he says. "That photo. The girl -- she's someone I used to know, when I was in high school. She and her friend were hitting on me.”
I raise my eyebrow. "This explanation isn't making it better," I say.
"I turned down a threesome," Caulter says.
My eyes go wide. "Well, how noble of you."
"You know I'd never ever jeopardize anything with you by doing something so fucking stupid," Caulter says. "Right? I mean, especially with two skanky-as-hell girls."
I arch my other eyebrow. "But if they were two less skanky girls?"
"Well, I mean, if you wanted to have a threesome with me and a girl of your choosing I could --"
He stops because I punch him hard in the arm. “Stop talking.”
"I'm kidding!” he says. Then: “I'm not kidding if you're into it, though..."
I step back, crossing my arms over my chest and re
sting them on the top of my belly. "I realize the likelihood of running into one of your ex-hookups is pretty high, given your --"
"Slutty past," Caulter interrupts.
"Your past," I continue. "But did it have to be courtside at a Celtics game on the night of your bachelor party right before the wedding?"
"I can't help it when the ladies throw themselves at me," Caulter says, his palms up, an innocent look on his face.
I narrow my eyes. "You want to live to make it to the wedding, right?"
Caulter steps forward, pulling me against him. "I would never be stupid enough to cheat on you," he says. "Ever. When I say I know what I have here with you -- and with our baby -- I know it. You're everything to me. I'd never do anything to change that, and I'd definitely never do anything to hurt you."
I furrow my brow at him, pretending to be mad, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips trailing along my cheek until he reaches my lip. He touches his finger to the bottom of my lip, tugging on it gently, and heat rushes through me.
I resist the urge to take his finger between my lips.
"I'm planning on being with you until we're old and grey, Princess," Caulter says. "I'm not going anywhere, and that's a fact. So you'd better get used to that idea. Because when I'm eighty years old and chasing you around with my cane in my hand..."
"Why would you be chasing me around with a cane?" I ask.
"I meant the cane between my legs," Caulter says, wriggling his eyebrows.
I stifle a snort. "That's a disgusting image, thanks," I say. "I don't need to think about your wrinkled old cane."
"That's a terrible thing to say," Caulter says. "I'll still love you when your vagina is shriveled up like a raisin. In fact, that’s damn poetic. I’m going to add that to my wedding vows.”
"If you put that in your vows, I will actually murder you, so help me God."
"You can't murder me," Caulter says. "You fucking love me, Princess."
"You're still a prick."
"Does this mean we're good?" Caulter asks.
"We're good," I say.
"Good," Caulter says. "So that means I can bend you over by the side of the road on the way back to the house, then?”
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