Page 96 of Her Ex's Father
It’s enough.
Exhausted and cravingourbed, I kiss his cheek and head down the hallway.
Later that afternoon, once the bags are unpacked and I’ve curled myself into the wide armchair by the window, there’s a knock at the door.
Caroline sweeps in, every inch the formidable Bronson, even in jeans and a t-shirt with holes at the hem. Her hair shines in the late light, her eyes bright with some secret mission.
“Madeline,” she declares, hands on her hips. “We’re throwing you a baby shower.”
I blink. “We—what?”
“A shower. A party. A celebration. Don’t look so alarmed, it isn’t optional. Also, welcome back.”
I laugh, startled. “Caroline?—”
“No arguments. It’s already decided.” She crosses the room and perches on the ottoman across from me, elegant and commanding. Then, softer, she lowers her voice. “I approve, you know.”
I swallow. “Approve?”
“Of Ben making things right. Of you.” She studies me, sharp gaze taking me in like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem. Then she sighs. “You’ll forgive my idiot brother for being a fool, won’t you?”
Emotion clogs my throat. I nod. “He’s not a fool. Not anymore. We’re… stronger than ever.”
Caroline’s mouth curves. She reaches out, squeezing my hand. “Good. Then let me take care of the rest.”
Three days later, I realize that when Caroline says she’ll take care of something, she means she will orchestrate it with the precision of a general launching a campaign. Honestly, if Ben hadn’t offered me the job as head of events for Bronson Hall, he should’ve given it toheryears ago.
The baby shower is at the nature preserve, under a pavilion so grand it looks like it was grown from the forest itself. Beams of timber arch high overhead, strung with soft lanterns that sway gently in the breeze. The mountains rise around us like a painted backdrop, and the air smells of pine and sun-warmed earth.
Tables are laid with linen in earthy tones, vases of wildflowers cut fresh from the meadows. Cushioned chairs, silk throws for warmth, platters of food that manage to be both rustic and luxurious. It’s understated perfection—exactly what I didn’t know I wanted.
“You did this?” I murmur to Caroline as I take it all in.
“Of course I did,” she says briskly, though her eyes soften. “Nothing less for my niece.”
My heart stutters. Our daughter has a place here. Already claimed, already loved.
Guests trickle in—some of Ben’s old friends from Aspen, a few neighbors, and staff who’ve become family. Stella was one of the first people here unsurprisingly and she draws attention with her bright laugh and endless joy as she shakes hands with complete strangers and makes small talk. My mother arrives last, dressed impeccably, her smile brittle. Gwen Clarke’s eyes sweep over the pavilion, assessing, judging.
“Very… rustic,” she says finally, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. From her, it isn’t a compliment.
I brace myself. But Caroline steps forward smoothly, a queen defending her court.
“Rustic? Hardly. This is elegance in its purest form. And it’s all for Maddie. She’s extraordinary, you know. Brilliant at what she does. Everyone is already buzzing about the Sweden event she’s going to lead.”
I freeze. My heart pounds.The event in Sweden.The one I hadn’t actually agreed to head.
Gwen arches a brow. “Oh? I hadn’t realized she’d accepted.” I recognize the careful set of her face. The truth is, Mom didn’t evenknowabout Ben’s offer or the event in Sweden—I didn’t tell her, and Stella certainly didn’t. But it won’t look good if she admits that her eldest daughter doesn’t update her on major life events.
Caroline beams, undeterred. “Of course she has. She’ll be spectacular. She always is.”
The certainty in her voice slices through me. In this moment, with my mother’s skepticism heavy in the air, I realize something startling: Caroline’s right.
I want it. I want to take the reins, to lead, to prove myself not just as someone’s wife or someone’s daughter, but as me. Maddie Bronson.
I straighten my shoulders. “Yes,” I say clearly. “I’m taking it. I want it.”
Gwen’s lips press thin, but she says nothing. The conversation is over.
