23. Kaitlyn
TWENTY-THREE
Kaitlyn
INSTEAD OF GOING BACK TO WENT’S PENTHOUSE, Dakota and I head back to the suite he booked for me so we could get ready for the wedding.
Wedding.
This is happening.
It’s really happening.
I still don’t know when or even where.
All I know is that Went said today and that after we finished getting primped and pampered at the spa, he texted Dakota and told her to take me to the suite we shopped under to get ready and wait. Since my hair and make-up were done by a team of professionals, all I have to do is wait.
Sitting on the edge of a leather wingchair that probably cost more than a new car, I listen while Dakota calls room service and orders a bottle of champagne, along with a fruit and cheese plate to pass the time. Within fifteen minutes, the cork is popped and I’m nibbling on crostini smeared with goat cheese and blackberry jam while trying to quell the roiling jumble of nerves in my belly.
I’m getting married.
“So…” Dakota pours us both a glass of champagne, offering me one before she sits back in her seat. “What’s the plan after this?”
I blink at her like I don’t know what the word means. “Plan?”
“Yeah—plan,” Dakota repeats back while she drops a fresh strawberry into her champagne flute. “Will the two of you go back to California when this Lexi Chase bullshit is finally over or will you move to New York?” She says it like it’s a foregone conclusion that staying in Montana is out of the question.
“I don’t know…” Shaking my head, I take a bite of my crostini, trying to give myself time to think. Swallowing hard, I give her a faint smile. “We haven’t really talked about it. To be honest, this is all happening so fast, I don’t think either of us has given it much thought.”
“Fair enough...” Taking a sip from her glass, she gives me a nod while she lowers it. “But what do you want to do?”
I find it fitting that the second person to ever ask me that is Went’s sister.
“I want to finish this semester and transfer to nursing school,” I tell her, feeling more sure of myself now that the subject of want isn’t focused on the confusing predicament I find myself in with her brother because despite what’s happening between Went and I, those wants haven’t changed.
“Nursing?” Dakota says, her tone tinged with both surprise and respect. “What sort of nurse?”
“I’d like to work with veterans.” Polishing off my crostini, I reach for my champagne glass. Taking a small, testing sip, I wish I had my notebook with me so I can add drink champagne to my bucket list, just so I could cross it off. “My brother was in the military and I think maybe if I worked with men and women who served it might make me miss him less.”
“Damien told me what happened,” Dakota says with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.” Before we both get lost in the mood, her smile brightens. “He also told me about your younger sister, Abbey. How is she taking all this?”
How is Abbey taking all this?
Probably not well.
“I’m sure she’s mad at me for leaving on some grand adventure while she’s stuck in Barrett.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not worried. One thing about Abs—if she wants something, she’ll find a way to get it.”
Dakota lifts her glass on a laugh. “I’ll drink to that.” Draining her glass, Dakota gives me a wicked grin. “Even though, apparently, what she wants is my brother.”
Again, for a second, all I can do is blink at her. I know Abbey has a crush on Damien. What I didn’t know was that he was aware of how she felt. Whenever I bring it up, Damien’s only response is she’s barely eighteen, Kaity or she’s a Barrett. Both of those statements mean the same thing.
As far as Damien is concerned, Abbey is off limits.
“I wasn’t aware that Damien knew how she felt,” I say, holding out my glass when Dakota offers me a refill. “Whenever I try to talk to him about it, he always shuts me down.”
She gives me another smile but this one is guarded. Harder to read. “It’s a hard thing, wanting what you can’t have.” Before I can ask her what she means by it, Dakota stands. “Come on—” cocking her head at the bedroom where we dumped all my bags and hung up our dresses. “let’s go get dressed and get you married.”
THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE DOOR JUST AS DAKOTA IS touching up her lipstick.
“Can you get that?” she asks while she leans into the mirror above the bathroom sink to smear another coat of lip color over her already perfectly painted mouth.
“Sure.” As ready as I’m ever going to be, I jump at the chance of a distraction. It’s been nearly three hours and we’re heading toward sunset.
Rushing at the door, I’m hoping it’s a bellhop or a room service attendant with a message from Went, even though I’m fairly certain that he and Dakota have been communicating via text. Too nervous and impatient to be angry about being kept in the dark, I throw open the door to find the last person I expected to find, waiting for me on the other side.
Damien.
In a suit.
An impeccably tailored suit, the color of espresso, and a deep turquoise tie. There’s a creamy white gardenia pinned to his lapel.
“Damien…” Heart in my throat, I feel my eyes begin to sting. “What are you doing here?”
“Well…” Grave expression on his face, he shakes his head. “At first, I thought I was here to kick my brother’s ass and to figure out a way to get you to come home that didn’t involve committing a felony.”
Giving him a watery laugh, I step aside so he can come in. Shutting the door behind him, I turn on a shaky sigh. “And now?”
Jamming his hands into the pockets of his suit, Damien gives me a shrug. “And now it seems that I’m here to walk you down the aisle and be his best man—if that’s okay with you.”
Swallowing a sob, I cover my mouth when it tries to come back up as a laugh. If I were marrying Brock, it would’ve been my father who walked me down the aisle, for appearances sake, but in my heart I would’ve wanted it to be Luke.
Having Damien beside me is the closest I’ll ever get.
Finally feeling steady enough to speak, I drop my hand and nod my head. “It’s okay with me.”
“I want it stated, for the record, that I think this is a supremely bad idea,” he says before the corner of his mouth kicks up in a crooked grin that makes him look like his brother. “But since you’re both bound and determine to do this thing, I’m not going to let you do it alone.”
“Thank you.” Giving him a wobbly smile, I look over to find Dakota standing in the bedroom doorway. She doesn’t look surprised to see him.
“Hey sis.” Damien gives her an appreciative nod. “You don’t look hideous.”
Dakota gives him a sweet smile and bats her eyelashes. “And you don’t smell like cow shit.”
Laughing, Damien reaches into the inside breast pocket of his suit and pulls out a flat, rectangular jewelry box. “Before I forget,” he says, offering me the box. “From Went.”
Taking the box with surprisingly steady hands, I open it to find the most exquisite pearl and diamond necklace I’ve ever seen, nestled in a bed of dark blue satin. “I can’t—” looking up at Damien, I shake my head. “I can’t accept this. It’s?—”
“Too much?” Approaching me on a laugh, Damien leads me to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the entry way of the suite. “I figured you’d say that.” Reaching for the open box, he lifts the necklace—a single, pale pink pearl, topped with a marquise cut diamond, suspended from a delicate white gold chain. “If it makes you feel any better, I talked him out of the matching earrings.”
“I’d take the earrings,” Dakota pipes up from the bedroom doorway.
Rolling his eyes, Damien laughs. “And I knew you’d say that .” Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulls out another, smaller, jewelry box and tosses it to her. Catching it with an excited squeal, Dakota disappears into the bathroom to put on her new earrings. As soon as she’s gone, Damien lifts his arms to fit the necklace around my neck. “Just tell me this is what you want, Kaity,” he says quietly. “If you’re doing this to get out of marrying Brock, we can find another way.”
Short of killing Brock, there is no other way—and even if Brock dropped dead tomorrow, my father would just marry me off to one of his equally shitty friends.
Because this is about punishing me. Nothing more.
Watching his reflection behind me while he works the clasp, I wait until it’s secure and he looks up to find my gaze in the mirror. “This is what I want,” I reassure him quietly. “Went is who I want.”
Dropping his work roughened hands onto my bare shoulders, Damien gives me a nod. “Okay.” Giving my shoulders a squeeze, he lets his hands fall away before he takes a step back. “Then like I said—let’s get you married.”