Chapter 2
Meirna
“Um, why are you here?”
Nettie’s voice sounds genuinely confused, but deep down, if she really thought about it, I’m always working.
“I work here,” I deadpan, still slamming keys underneath fingertips. “Did you bring the goods?”
A small white paperback is promptly produced on the left side of my laptop, followed by a hot coffee.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she chides lightly. “You’re getting married in three days.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you have better things to do, like—” My gaze flicks over my screen, meeting Nettie’s blue eyes full-on and finding them glossed in concern and a bit of anxiety.
Her magazine-worthy make-up is perfectly set in place, her dark brown hair is parted down the middle, and Nettie is every minute I don’t spend on my own morning routine.
“Why do you look like you want to cry?” I press lightly, watching her shift underneath the weight of my stare before plucking the bag she brought me and peeling away the sticker keeping it closed.
“I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“About Bobby being…not enough for you.”
My face lifts in immediate awe and a sliver of irritation that she would bring this up now and not when Bobby and I first got engaged.
Now is a little too late.
Now is a little too cliché to call off a whole wedding with over four hundred guests, a venue overlooking the ocean, thousands of particularly chosen appetizers, and a wedding cake that I’m not sure is going to hold on a standard table with its weight.
Now is not the time for me or her to start double-guessing everything.
Again.
Glancing in the bag, there’s a mini cinnamon roll wreath and a slice of cranberry bread with white frosting. “You forgot the blueberry scone with the vanilla glaze.”
“Meirna,” my best friend clips out, obviously not past her concern and still on the doubt train about my upcoming nuptials. “I’m being serious.”
I silently sigh because we’re having this conversation now, whether I want to or not.
“Fine.” I lean back in my chair, give her my full attention, and the green light to continue. “What are the red flags?”
“Time,” she immediately blurts out. “He’s never around.”
“He’s working, Nettie. The guy is landing and planning his new CEO spot at his dad’s company. It’s something he’s been steering toward his whole life.”
“But what if that’s always what it is? It’s like you’ll be married to yourself.”
I quirk a brow. “Would that be so bad?”
Nettie’s blue eyes narrow. “I’m worried.”
“And, I appreciate that. But I get the hustle and everything Bobby has been working for. I was the same with the non-profit when I started it. I mean, God, I’m still busting my ass over it.”
She lifts her chin, confirming that she knows, but it still doesn’t erase any of the concern. “I get that. But he’s running a whole billion-dollar company. No offense, Meir, but that’s probably a bit more work.”
I nod, getting that. But it’s not going to make me start doubting that Bobby is going to be absent for the rest of our lives. It’s not the way I want to think about things.
I have to be positive and manifest only good ones.
For both of us.
Bobby and his father, Alan, haven’t been on the same playing field for over the last year, arguing over the phone and at family dinners, prompting one to leave the room shortly thereafter.
It’s been a civil war in the family.
And Bobby’s mom, Catherine, is hoping our marriage will get Alan to loosen up on Bobby and for Bobby to double down.
Being the heir to a family fortune and empire, I can’t imagine the mental toll.
I come from a middle-class existence where my mom is a third-grade school teacher and my father owns a landscaping company.
It’s why I was so invested in Stonehaven and helping other communities reinvigorate, so the people could be proud of where they lived.
It’s still a work in progress, but with Bobby’s help and support, I’ve been doing that.
“Everything is going to be good,” I say for both of us. “I’m excited.”
Ish.
I’m ecstatic to be marrying Bobby, just not the circus leading up to and into it.
My idea of a perfect wedding was something intimate with close family members and friends.
But the moment the Harding family found out Bobby and I were engaged, it was full-blown wedding plans, extravagant planning, multiple dress fittings, catering samples, band auditions, firing two wedding planners—Bobby’s mother and my soon-to-be monster-in-law, Catherine’s, doing—and color schemes.
It’s been overwhelming, and I’ve taken on most of the organizing with Catherine, so Bobby isn’t burdened by which color tablecloth matches his eyes.
Again, Catherine.
I wouldn’t be surprised if his mother showed up at our honeymoon.
“Okay,” Nettie mutters. “I’m…overreacting, I know.”
“No”—I rise from my chair and step around it to pull her into a hug—“I love that you’re obsessed with me.” Nettie snorts into my shoulder, and I smile. “Now, c’mon, and eat some of this breakfast with me. You deserve it, after all, with all that talking.”
“I can’t.” She runs a palm down the flatness of her toned stomach. “I need to fit into that form-fitting bridesmaid dress you’re making me wear.”
I roll my eyes because I voted against the dress. However, that’s an old fight that I’m not going to rehash now. “It won’t add ten pounds.”
She gives me a blank stare. “Do you know how many millionaires are going to be at that wedding?”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Miss Stetson?”
I glance over at the male voice that just protruded through my sentence and find a huge bouquet of white roses mixed with evergreen boughs and frosted pinecones with pops of red berries inside.
It’s absolutely stunning.
Then, I look at the middle-aged man holding them.
“These are for you.”
He hands them to me, and I mindlessly take the delivery, feeling the weight of the flowers, and I’m…speechless.
“Can you sign, please?”
“I got it,” Nettie says, plucking his clipboard and quickly scribbles her name. “Have a good day.”
“You, too, ma’am.”
My fingers graze over one rose, feeling undeniably special when Nettie gushes, “There’s a note!”
Taking the flowers from me, Nettie replaces them with said envelope. I already know who they’re from. Bobby knows I absolutely love flowers, but specifically white roses.
Peeling the small envelope open, I tug at the little business card-sized letter.
I can’t wait any longer. I need you to be mine.
Marry me.
Tonight.
Rooftop of the Walton Hotel.
Just me and you.
— B
Marry me.
Tonight.
A shaky exhale escapes my lips as I stare down at his handwriting. Everything in my soul swells with hope, love, and, honestly, wonder.
Our engagement has been a whirlwind. With our careers, his schedule, my nonprofit, and everything in between, it’s when Bobby does things like this that make me fall in love with him all over again.
That gives me those butterflies I had when we first met.
He never forgets to carve out time to send me flowers, lunch, or pieces of jewelry as a ‘thinking of you’ gesture.
Yes, I’d love nothing more than for him to hand-deliver them himself or give them to me, but it’s our reality.
I’m going to be his wife by the end of the night.