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  “Nervous but excited,” I tell her truthfully.

  “It’s going to be amazing. You are going to shine like you always do,” she says. “Now where is that famous firefighter of yours? Is he here yet?”

  “Not yet but he should be soon.”

  Thank god for that. I have no doubt that his strong comforting presence next to me is exactly what I need to help me get through this nerve-racking night.

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Me too,” Emily adds. “I am dying to meet the man that has managed to steal my best friend’s heart.”

  Oh he’s stolen it all right, and if I’m lucky I’m not ever getting it back.

  Our conversation ceases when, beyond my mother, I see a man climbing a tall ladder to hang the oversized picture I had framed. A picture that has my heart near bursting out of my chest.

  “Honey, what is it?” my mother asks, trying to gauge the tears in my eyes.

  When I point over her shoulder, she turns around and gasps at the gold-framed photo of my father.

  In loving memory of Paul Kensington.

  Do well. Live well. Dress well.

  “Oh, CeCe, it’s perfect,” my mother blubbers, digging in her purse for a tissue.

  “It really is,” Emily whispers, taking my hand in hers.

  We all take a moment of silence, and as I gaze up at my father’s photo, a memory surfaces…

  “Daddy!” I run into his arms as fast as my little legs will carry me.

  He scoops me up, bringing me in close to his chest. “My princess. How was your day at the palace?”

  “Good, but I missed you.”

  “Well, I’m home now and back where I belong.”

  A tear trickles down my cheek, but for the first time since my father’s death it isn’t a tear of sorrow. It’s a tear of peace and admiration.

  I am proud to carry on his name through this boutique and he will be a part of my dreams forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gabe

  Anger still burns in my veins hours later as I sit in the dark parking lot in front of the boutique, watching the party from afar. A party I have no desire to attend anymore. I’m over an hour late and even considered not showing up at all but the thought of bailing on CeCe only made me feel worse.

  Tonight is about her, not me.

  So here I am, trying to gather my composure before walking in and having to spend the evening with the rich and entitled, wearing a fucking suit that I would never wear any other time.

  Dread twists my gut as I force myself out of the truck. I catch sight of CeCe through the glass window as I approach, her smile lighting up the whole damn place as she poses for pictures. She looks beautiful in the long gold dress she wears. It shimmers, catching every light in the place, just like the girl herself.

  The moment I enter, a waiter approaches and offers me a glass of champagne. He too is dressed in a monkey suit, just like everyone else in the place.

  So much for low-key.

  I decline his offer even though I could really use a drink right now. Champagne is not my drink of choice and even less so tonight.

  Sensing my presence, CeCe’s head turns my way. Her smile brightens as she excuses herself from the group she’s with and heads toward me. “There you are, I’ve been worried,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  I reel her in close, the feel of her slender body against mine easing my turmoil. “Sorry I’m late,” I murmur, burying my face in her hair.

  At my gruff tone, she steps back and covers my jaw with her hand, her eyes filled with concern. “Everything okay?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her no. To tell her everything that happened earlier but I refrain, knowing now is not the time. I won’t ruin her night.

  “Yeah, Bella. I’m good.”

  There is a flicker of doubt in her eyes but thankfully she doesn’t push. “Where’s your mom?” she asks, looking behind me.

  The single question has the pain in my chest intensifying. “She couldn’t make it anymore.”

  “That’s too bad,” she says, disappointment thick in her voice. “Well, I saved her a VIP bag. There’s a vintage silk scarf in there for her because I know how much you love that material.” Her tone is teasing as she bumps me with her shoulder.

  “She doesn’t need that shit, CeCe. She’s simple. I told you that.”

  Her smile falters, hurt darkening her eyes.

  I shake my head, guilt restricting my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just been a bad day.”

  “What happened?” she asks, reaching for my hand. “Tell me.”

  “Not here, Bella. Right now I want to forget about it and enjoy my night with you.” To show her I mean it, I lift her hand to my mouth, brushing a kiss across her fingers.

  “Okay. But we’re going to talk about this later.”

  I nod my agreement.

  “Come on.” She smiles, tugging on my hand. “My mother and Emily have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

  As she leads me through the throng of people, a woman catches sight of us over her shoulder and starts forward. By the blonde hair, green eyes, and prominent features, I have no doubt that it’s CeCe’s mother. Everything about her screams wealth but she has the same kind smile as her daughter.

  “Is this the man I’ve been waiting to meet?” she asks, her eyes remaining on mine.

  “It is. Mom, this is Gabe. Gabe, my mother, Elizabeth Kensington.”

  I extend my hand. “Mrs. Kensington, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too, Gabe. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you from my daughter. Thank you for taking such good care of her while I’ve been gone.”

  “It’s been my pleasure.”

  CeCe flashes me one of her smiles that always knocks me on my ass, and the bad shit from earlier slips a little further away.

  Another couple walks over to join us, and I recognize them as Ryder and Emily from the wedding photo CeCe has in her apartment.

  “Is this him?” Emily asks.

  “This is him.” She beams with pride. “Gabe, meet my best friend, Emily.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand as well.

  “You too, Gabe. I’ve heard a lot about you over the last several weeks.”

  By the smile she and CeCe share, there’s no doubt in my mind that she knows it all.

  CeCe gestures over to Ryder. “And this bubbly guy here is her husband, Secret Agent Cody Banks. He’s badass. Even carries a gun.”

  He looks less than amused by the sassy introduction but not surprised. “Ryder,” he clarifies, shaking my hand. “You’re so lucky to have found a gem like her.”

  For the first time since the disaster at my mother’s, I feel a smirk tug at my lips.

  CeCe chuckles, not the least bit offended by his dry sarcasm. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone else.”

  Unfortunately, the other people I meet aren’t as cool and receptive as her mother and friends. Some side-glance me with a look of disapproval, some even turn their noses up at me. CeCe is oblivious to it all.

  As the night wears on, I feel even more out of place. Not for the first time, a niggling feeling of doubt creeps in as I wonder how the hell she and I are supposed to work when we come from two totally different worlds. Her world being one I’ve grown to resent.

  Just get through these next couple of hours then never agree to do this again.

  A photographer from some big shot magazine eventually walks over and asks CeCe if she can take a few more pictures of her. CeCe obliges and curls her arm around mine but the lady awkwardly clears her throat and asks if she could get some of just her.

  The brush-off is more than apparent, except to CeCe. Her smile never falters as she obliges.

  She really is clueless.

  It should piss me off but it doesn’t. She doesn’t see it, and I don’t think she ever will.

  “I’ll b
e right back, okay?”

  After my nod, she rises up on her toes and brushes a kiss across my cheek.

  When she disappears into the crowd, I move to an empty corner of the room, needing a little reprieve. On my way, I decide to swipe a glass of champagne after all. Loosening the restriction of my tie, I down the bubbly contents in a single swig.

  “You look like you enjoy these functions as much as I do,” Ryder says, coming over to join me.

  “The function doesn’t bother me as much as the people.” I pause, thinking about how bad that sounded and glance in his direction. “No offense.”

  He smirks. “None taken. I belong here about as much as you do. But my wife fits in everywhere she goes so I suck it up for her benefit.”

  That is something I can understand, because that’s what I am trying to do.

  “So CeCe said you guys have known each other since high school,” I say, deciding to make small talk.

  “Yeah. We actually went to school together most of our lives but let’s just say we didn’t hang out in the same clique.”

  The information doesn’t surprise me in the least. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to hang out with any clique.

  “It wasn’t until our senior year when she beat the shit out of me with her purse that we first spoke to one another.”

  I shoot him an amused glance, my lips pulling into a smirk. “She mentioned something about that.”

  “I’m sure she did. She enjoys telling everyone about it and overdramatizing the scene.”

  I chuckle. “That’s Blondie.”

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting our exchange. Digging it out, I see it’s my mother. The last thing I want to do is answer it but she has called at least four times, and knowing her, she’s probably worried I’m dead in a ditch somewhere.

  Excusing myself for a moment, I head toward the backroom for some privacy and accidentally knock into some guy’s shoulder where he stands with a group of people, drinking and socializing. I mumble an apology but get stopped in my tracks when he thrusts his empty glass at me.

  “I’ll take another one,” he says, not even bothering to look at me, his eyes remaining on the group of men before him.

  I stare down at the empty glass, making no move to take it. “Excuse me?”

  He finally makes eye contact, his annoyance and disapproval evident. “Another champagne, I said. Do you speak English?”

  Every muscle in my body tenses, blood roaring in my ears.

  When I don’t answer, he turns back to the others. “The language barrier with help nowadays is out of hand.”

  His words snap what’s left of my precious control and all I see is red. My fist lands across his face, sending him to the floor with a single blow. “How’s that for a language barrier, asshole!”

  Gasps of horror penetrate the room and a bunch of people rush to help him to his feet.

  CeCe pushes through the crowd, horror and embarrassment twisting her features. Her eyes shift from the man to me, hurt and disbelief bright in her gaze. “What on earth are you doing?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain but the look of disdain on everyone’s faces has me keeping my mouth shut. Nothing I say will be justifiable to them so I don’t bother trying.

  Shaking my head, I start for the door, my shoes eating up the hardwood while everyone clears a path for me.

  “Gabe, wait!” CeCe calls, running out after me.

  I turn back, and the devastation I find on her face destroys another part of me, one that has only been reserved for her.

  “What’s going on with you? How could you do this? Of all nights.”

  “He thought I was the fucking help! What do you expect me to do? Lay down and take it.”

  “Of course not, but did it need to resort to violence? My party is ruined now.”

  Guilt spikes in my veins at the tears streaming down her face but so does the inevitable. “This is exactly why I should have never come.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I don’t fucking belong here, CeCe, and I never will!” Taking off the stuffy coat, I rip the tie from my neck and chuck it in the open window of my truck. “This is never going to work.”

  She stares back at me, pain and confusion pinching her expression. “What are you saying?”

  “Me, you,”—I motion toward the boutique—“this. Can’t you see? It will never work. We’re too different.”

  “But we fit, remember? You and me. We fit.”

  “Not anymore, Blondie.”

  “Don’t do this,” she whispers, the words trembling past her lips. It has me wanting to reach out, but I decide against it. Prolonging it will only make it worse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  As hard as it is, I climb into my truck and pull away. I allow myself one final glance in the rearview mirror, watching the only woman I have ever loved fade into the night, leaving behind my heart and plunging me into a dark place I might never escape from.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CeCe

  Depleted and devastated, I move around my boutique, putting things back in order as tears continue to streak down my face. They haven’t stopped since Gabe stormed out of the party and out of my life.

  The night ended in a total disaster. My entire career is probably over. My reputation will never be the same. I should be most upset about that but I’m not. None of that matters. Not when the man who managed to steal my heart, only to break it, has walked away from me forever.

  A gentle hand touches my shoulder and I turn to see Emily, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Your mom is seeing the last of the guests off.”

  I acknowledge the information with a nod, unable to speak past the burning pain in my throat.

  “You going to be okay?” she asks.

  I’m about to lie and say yes but a sob escapes me instead.

  She gathers me in her arms, hugging me tight. “I’m so sorry, CeCe.”

  “I can’t believe he did this—to me—to us.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  My head snaps up to find Ryder walking out of the backroom.

  He leans against the wall, loosening his tie. “The guy was mistaken for the help because of the color of his skin. If you ask me, that asshole got what he deserved.”

  “That doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did,” Emily fires back on my behalf. “It wasn’t about him, Ryder. Tonight was about CeCe and her career.”

  “Sorry, Em, but that’s where you’re wrong. What happened had everything to do with him,” he says. “You two don’t get it. You can’t because you grew up with assholes like these. You were never treated like you weren’t good enough to breathe the same air as them. I know what that’s like and if Gabe didn’t before he sure as hell does now.”

  “He’s right,” my mother says, walking back in from outside. “I’m not excusing his actions, he should have handled his temper better, but I’m sure he’s pretty hurt.”

  He is. The pain in his eyes when he stormed out is a look I will never forget.

  “The way Victor treated him was uncalled for.”

  “Yes, it was,” I agree. “I’m angry on his behalf, too. But I would have handled it. I would have never allowed anyone to treat him like that. He didn’t even give me a chance.”

  Sadness washes over my mother’s face as she walks over and drapes a comforting arm around my shoulders. “Just give him some time to cool down, honey. I’m sure he will see he made a mistake.”

  I shake my head, feeling uncertain. “I don’t know. Maybe we are too different after all.”

  The reasoning sounds weak, even to my own ears. We aren’t too different when we’re laughing together or touching one another. When it’s just the two of us, nothing feels more right.

  “Look at Ryder and me,” Emily says, gazing back at her husband. “We came from different upbringings and we made it work. If he cares about you the way I think he does, he’ll come back, CeCe.”
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  I wish I had as much hope as they do, because the thought of not seeing him anymore is too painful to even think about.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Gabe

  Incessant knocking pulls me from my tormented sleep. My gritty eyes barely open before I quickly slam them shut, the unwelcome sunlight spearing through my head.

  Two nights of heavy drinking was not a good idea, especially when it did nothing to ease the heaviness in my chest or erase the painful memories that have surfaced since that bastard showed up.

  Then there’s the image of the beautiful woman I walked away from the other night. It’s that memory that has haunted me most of all.

  When the knocking continues, I force myself out of bed and clumsily slide my jeans and shirt on before walking downstairs. By the time I reach the door, I have to brace my hand on the wall to steady myself, the ground tilting beneath my feet.

  As I reach for the handle, a flicker of hope penetrates my chest, praying it will be the one woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. That flicker burns out when I open it and find my mother.

  “Mijo,” she greets me with a whisper. The devastation on her face as she stands on my front steps only serves to drive my conflicting emotions deeper. “I’ve been calling you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Like drinking myself into oblivion and trying to forget the past couple of days. Turns out there is no amount of alcohol consumption that can mask the feelings battling inside of me.

  “Can I come in?” she asks.

  The last thing I want to do is hash shit out with her, because then I will have to talk about him and I don’t want that. I want to pretend he doesn’t exist just like I have for the past fifteen years. However, as I stare back at the one woman who gave me everything, I’m unable to deny the request.

  I step aside to let her enter then walk over to take a seat on the couch before I end up puking all over the place. My head rests back, eyes closing as I try to find my gravity.

  The cushion dips next to me as my mother sits down. She reaches up and turns my face toward her. “You look terrible.”