Chapter 21
CONNOR
Iknock on Mildred’s bedroom door. It’s rehearsal dinner day and she’s been preparing for what seems like hours.
“Come in!” she calls.
I peek my head into the room. She’s standing by the vanity, homemade bracelets scattered across the marble top. Her eyes move over me in a way that’s become pleasantly familiar.
“You look great,” she says, running her hands nervously over her hips.
“So do you.” She’s dressed in a floor-length, dark purple dress. The lines are simple and crisp, which flatter her curvy figure. “I have something for you.”
She arches a brow. “Because the dress, shoes, and bag weren’t enough?”
“Well, you can’t go to the rehearsal dinner naked, darling.”
“It would be a statement, and so would an off-the-rack dress from JCPenney.”
I cross the room. “My parents would be furious. Post-wedding, you can shop wherever you like.”
“You make it sound like I was asking permission.” Mildred looks up at me, eyes flashing with defiance.
“You don’t like the dress?” I agonized over the right one; the softness of the fabric, her comfort, how beautiful she would look.
“That’s not what I said.”
I can’t get a read on her emotions, other than nervousness.
“If you’d prefer to change into something else, you’re more than welcome.
” I give in to the urge to skim the length of her arm.
“But I picked it out for you thinking you might like it, and it didn’t cost anyone’s arm or leg.
” Lexi mentioned that Mildred isn’t used to extravagant gifts, and that I might need to adjust accordingly, so I did.
“I just want tonight to be as pain-free as possible for you.”
Her expression softens. “I love the dress. There’s just a new one for every event. I hate having a closet full of clothes I’m not supposed to wear again.”
“You can wear them as often as you like. And if there are too many for you, they don’t have to stay in your closet. We can donate them.”
Her eyes light up, and relief washes through me. “I’d like that. There’s a prom dress program at the group home not far from my work.”
“Then that’s where we’ll take them.” I pull the jewelry box from my pocket and flip it open.
It’s a necklace of diamonds, the one in the center a soft pink.
It’s definitely extravagant, but it complements her dress.
“This belonged to Meems. My grandfather gave it to her the night of their rehearsal dinner, and she gave it to me a few years ago, probably hoping I’d get here faster. ” I smile, and she laughs.
“It’s beautiful,” Mildred whispers.
I swallow my anxiety. “I’d love for you to wear it tonight, but only if you want to.”
“It would be an honor.” Her fingers go to her lips, and she nods.
I free the necklace from the box, and she turns to face the vanity, moving her hair aside. Behind her ear is a tiny shooting star tattoo, yellow and white with a purple and blue tail. I refocus my attention and carefully clasp the necklace at her nape.
My fingers brush her shoulder, and she covers my hand with hers, our eyes locking in the reflection.
“We can pretend it’s real again tonight,” she whispers, eyes full of the longing that’s become impossible to ignore lately.
I hold her gaze and bend to press a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “It’s perfect on you.”
The tension between us has been growing like ivy since she spent the night in my bed after her bachelorette party. I woke alone, and it hasn’t happened since, but she also hasn’t returned the borrowed shirt. Every night when I carry her from the library to her bedroom, she’s wearing it.
My phone chimes in my pocket. A message from Cedrick informs me the car is ready. “It’s time to go.” I bend and scoop up her shoes.
Mildred finds her clutch, then grabs a handful of the bracelets scattered across the vanity.
“Let me help you with those,” I offer.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Half the bracelets scatter across the floor. She frantically shoves the remaining ones on her wrist, then crouches to retrieve the rest.
I drop to one knee beside her and gather the closest bracelets. They’re old and worn, with names on some and designs on others. They remind me of friendship bracelets from high school days.
I gently take her hand, but she snatches it away. Her head is bowed, wrist turned into her body.
The fallen bracelets dangle between my thumb and forefinger. “What about these?”
“Just let me have them.” Her voice shakes, along with her hand.
“What are you hiding?”
“We need to go.”
“In a minute. They can’t start without us.
” I gently flip her hand over, palm up, and slide the remaining bracelets onto her wrist. The inside, by her pulse point, has a few small scabs, but there are also scars, old and not so old.
I run my thumb over the raised skin, the ache in my chest impossible to ignore. “Mildred?”
Her eyes slide closed, and her shoulders sag.
“Hey.” I cup her cheek in my palm as fear slithers down my spine. “It’s okay. Talk to me. Tell me what this is.”
“It’s embarrassing,” she whispers.
“I fucked a sandwich, darling. I’m pretty sure I’ve cornered the market on embarrassing.”
She huffs an unsteady laugh.
I lift her wrist and press my lips to the tender skin. “Please talk to me. I’m worried right now, and I just want to keep you safe.”
Her eyes lift, and I see the ghosts she’s so good at hiding lurking in their uneasy depths. “I usually wear a hair tie or scrunchie on my wrist. I snap it to cope with stress. It’s an old habit.”
Understanding twists my stomach. “And you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, because of me.”
“You are not the source of my stress,” she clarifies. “There’s been a lot of change.”
“I’ve tried to make it easier.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.”
But dealing with me and my family hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. It doesn’t matter who caused the stress, it’s that there’s too much of it for her to handle. “You wear the bracelets to hide the marks.”
She nods. “Some of them are from the group-home kids I grew up with and some are from my foster siblings. The good ones, anyway.”
“You are such a beautiful miracle.” I don’t deserve her, but I pull her into my arms anyway, hugging her tightly.
She returns the embrace, and it feels like she’s comforting me instead of the other way around. “I’m okay. I promise you don’t have to worry,” she whispers against my throat.
How can I not worry? I cup her face in my palms. “We’re almost through the hard part. Just tonight and the wedding, and then we have a break from all the shit with my family. We’re in this together, okay?”
Her eyes search my face, her bottom lip sliding through her teeth. She nods, and her palm settles against the side of my neck. “We’re in this together.” Mildred leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth.
My phone buzzes a second time.
We rise, and Mildred steps back, but I catch her hand in mine. And she doesn’t let go.