Page 13 of Cayden

“I am not just doing this for him. I want to be a mother, and you know how much.”

“Yes. But some things are better left to the Lord. Sometimes we take things into our hands and end up making a bigger mess.” Scooting forward, he took the cup from her and took her hands in his. “I am sincerely praying that this is not one of those times.”

*****

She ate in her private salon. Their suite took up an entire wing of the house and consisted of three bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, an office where her husband did his work whenever he was home, a gym, a small library, a kitchen, a sitting room and her green and white salon that overlooked the east garden – a pretty as a picture wooded area, with a dazzling display of pink and white begonias, tulips and a scattering of red and white roses.

There was a view of the tennis court as well as the gazebo nestled between two towering redwood trees. When she had first moved here after the wedding, she had the idea of cooking for her husband. The kitchen was well stocked with supplies, and she loved to cook.

But over time, the sheen of new marriage had worn off, and her desire to cook had given way to a ritualistic solitude in her salon. She found comfort in the routine, a semblance of control in an otherwise uncontrollable life.

The garden's beauty was a balm to her strained psyche, a reminder that life, in all its forms, persisted stubbornly and with grace.

His mother had taken her aside and told her in a firm and unyielding tone that the wife of a Caruso did not have time to be domestic and they had numerous staff to see to their needs.

“My dear, you are going to be too busy with other things to worry about making a meal for your husband.”

She had mentioned it to Cayden, and he had waved it aside, agreeing with his mother.

“Why on earth would you want to spend your time slaving over a hot stove when we have an excellent chef to do just that?”

She had left it alone, realizing that the difference between them was glaring. She loved to cook and would have found pleasure preparing a meal, even closing themselves off from the rest of the family and simply dining alone with each other.

The dinners at the manor were stifling and formal and one was required to dress for them. Thankfully, each member of the family was so busy, they rarely sat down to a meal more than a handful of times.

As she sat alone, the memories of their early days together flooded her mind. How they had laughed, shared dreams, and made plans for a future that seemed so bright.

Now, those dreams were clouded with the weight of unmet expectations and the silent, festering wounds of loss. She wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other, or if the growing chasm between them was now too wide to bridge.

Moving the fork around the plate listlessly, she forced herself to enjoy and partake of the delicious orange duck Anthony had prepared especially for her. She got along well with all the staff because she treated them well. She had once asked Maria to call her Blair, and the woman had looked at her with a horrified expression on her face.

“Ms. Marianne would not allow it.”

And that was the heart of the matter, she decided. She was not mistress of this place. Her mother-in-law was. Marianne Caruso’s word was law, and no one dared to go against her. Blair wanted her own home, where she got to make decisions. She wanted her own family and could see nothing wrong with working to make that happen.

Chapter 4

A full week had passed since the argument. A week during which he had avoided speaking to her except when it was necessary. He came back to their bedroom after the first night, but the big bed was as wide as an ocean and he made certain to stay on his side. She had enough pride to stay on hers.

He would leave exceedingly early in the morning and would not be back home until late. She filled her day with her various activities and tried not to let the pain of his anger and silence get to her. Dr. Melbourne had warned that she should try and stay away from stress.

“The procedure alone is difficult without an added element.”

So, she immersed herself in her own duties. The plans for the Fall Gala were well underway and she was actively involved in the planning itself. She would be meeting with the girls twice a week to prepare.

And the family was back. Which meant that more people would be privy to her business and would notice the tension between her and her husband. She hated that. Hated the fact that they could not have an argument without getting others involved.

His brothers were okay enough and she suspected that Clive had a crush on her, something her husband had made a comment about.

“He’s just being friendly.”

“It had better be just that,” he had growled. When he said it at the time, it had caused a warm glow inside her.

Dinner last night had been surprisingly pleasant, with everyone still riding the high of the success of the latest vintage. They were so distracted; they did not seem to notice that she was not drinking the perpetual wine with dinner and that she and Cayden were barely communicating.

Last night had been like the others since the argument, cold and barely civil. She was not certain how much longer she could take it.

And they had a function later tonight. His assistant had called to remind her of it. A glittering affair which involved the movers and shakers in the wine industry. She was dreading having to dress up and smile as if everything was okay.

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