Page 76 of Free to Dream
“Au Clair De La Lune.”
It keeps cycling on repeat through my head on a loop. I’ve thought of nothing but Cassidy since that morning in Caleb’s kitchen, and then after that catastrophe at her office.
Two weeks before Ryan and Jared’s wedding, I decide. I pick up the phone.
“Hello,” the grumpy voice on the other end of the line mutters.
“Charlie? It’s Keene. I need you to come into work early tomorrow.” Taking a deep breath and a huge gamble with the only family I have left in the world, I add, “I’m going to need the full Freeman file.”
Silence.
“Charlie?”
“Why?” Suddenly, his voice is alert and suspicious. Good for you, old man. And this is why Caleb authorizes your huge-ass salary.
“Because…” I almost choke and swallow hard.
“Because…” he prompts, still suspicious.
“Because, there’s a possibility Cassidy Freeman may be Riley.”
I hear him suck in a huge breath. “Oh my god, Keene. Have you said anything? Are you sure?”
“No and no. That’s why I need the file.”
He swallows so hard, I can hear it over the line. “I’ll meet you there at seven.” He quickly hangs up.
I put the phone down, pick up my glass of Scotch and start humming “Au Clair De La Lune,” the familiar tune coming back to me as if I had sung it yesterday instead of twenty-five years earlier.
29
Cassidy
We’re eight days from the Lockwood-Dalton wedding. It’s crunch time. Not even one of us has a free day or evening from now until the wedding itself.
It’s well after normal business hours at the office. Otherwise, I know we’d never have a client again after the way my siblings are bickering back and forth. When we pull late nights like this, they tend to forget we’re not at the farm. I just hope this time they remembered to lock the door.
Phil is bitching about the lack of sex he and Jason are having. I hear Em yelling at him to shut up because it’s been months for her, and when he’s gone that long without, he can start talking about dick rot for all she cared.
It’s a good thing I get to spend one night in the city with Caleb tomorrow because I have a late afternoon meeting with Ryan and Jared, which could go several hours. Caleb managed to swing his schedule so we could have lunch. I’ll go to my meeting and I’ll stay over with him before heading back to Collyer early the next morning.
Trust me, Phil has already managed to find a way to bemoan this fact when we were discussing this at the morning meeting. Ali nailed him with a muffin and told him not only did his husband come home and climb into the same bed every damn night, it wasn’t my fault if Jason’s rotation at the hospital was off so he could be in the wedding. And if Phil wanted to sit at the nice table with me, he needed to shut his trap.
Yep, that’s right. Jason is in the wedding. When Caleb told me Jason was asked to be the other groomsman standing up for Ryan, tears of joy slid down my face. I was so overwhelmed Jason and Ryan had repaired their friendship. Caleb said Ryan was just as nervous about asking Jason as he was about asking Jared for his hand. He was kidding, but it was reflective of how much he wanted his other brother with him on his big day. Not only did my siblings all side with Caleb that I would sit with him during the reception, but so would Phil.
Phil was prancing around like a queen until he was told he needed to keep his earbud in for any emergencies. That squashed his Lifestyles of the Greenwich and Famous moment.
I chuckle as I quickly type an email with a pen between my teeth. The caterer wants confirmation on the final number of 528. I review my planner and find we still haven’t received 20 RSVPs. I quickly pull the contract over, scanning for the section on final decisions within fourteen days of the wedding. Finding the section on catering, I confirm the language. I mutter out loud, “So long as the excess of outstanding invitations doesn’t exceed ten percent of the guest list.” Got it. I finish the email to the caterer, upping the final count to 548.
“Damn, you look so sexy right now.”
I jump, startled and thrilled to hear his deep voice. Caleb’s standing in the doorway in his Joseph Aboud custom-made suit. I bite my lip and remember the outfit I have on. I’m in leggings and a University of Charleston sweatshirt. He’s in a Ermenegildo Zegna tie and shoes. I’m wearing another pair of Uggs. “Sexy, huh?” I sit back and grin at my man. “Now you? You look good.”
He walks into my office and closes the door. Leaning against it, I hear the very definitive snick of the lock.
Hmm, interesting.
He smiles at me, his eyes radiating heat despite their humor. “Do you know your siblings are arguing about sex?” He pushes away from the door and prowls toward me.
