Chapter 13 #2
“I saw this while I was picking up my tux. And I thought of you.”
She pulls down the zipper, freeing a cascade of white satin. Her eyes go saucer-wide, and she runs a hand up and down the fabric, finally landing at the … heart area. Her fingertips trace the straight neckline from edge to edge, and heat spreads behind my ribs.
“But I already have a dress,” she says. “And I know you hate anything to do with Foster, but—”
“This isn’t about him,” I rush to say. “The truth is, my mom will expect to see you in an expensive gown.” I frown. “No offense.”
She snorts. “I’m not sure how else to take that.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll never have to meet Margaret and find out.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, and she gives her head a little shake. “I can’t believe you bought me a whole new wedding dress just for the sake of a few pictures.” Her eyes flick to the fabric again. “And not just any dress. This is a dream dress.”
“You like it?” The question comes out raspy, and I kind of hate how much my happiness depends on her answer.
“I absolutely love it,” she breathes.
“I’m glad.” I shrug, acting nonchalant, but the truth is, I’d give up everything to see her glow like this.
“How did you even know my size?”
Because your shape is seared into my brain.
Because I’ve memorized each of your curves.
Because I study everything about you. Inside and out.
“Sayla told me,” I say.
She puffs out a laugh. “Figures.”
“There are shoes and a veil and a matching clutch in the bag, too. The saleslady thought you might need them. I wasn’t even sure what a clutch was.”
“Wow.” Loren blinks up at me. “Wow, wow, wow. You really are rich, aren’t you?”
I wince a little, and I hope she doesn’t catch it. But as a man who’s determined not to toss wealth around like a weapon or a source of manipulation, I can’t help the reaction.
I know she’s not calling me out. I think she’s just a bit taken aback. Bewildered, even. Which makes sense. Still, I worry.
“Does that bother you?” I ask. “Because I promise I’m still the man you’ve always known.”
“No, I totally believe that.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m just trying to feel a little less guilty about how much I’ve cost you already.”
“You shouldn’t feel any amount of guilt,” I insist. “Without you, I’d be losing control of my trust. Or marrying a virtual stranger instead of a friend. So whatever money I’ve spent—or will spend—is a drop in the bucket. Truly. That’s not a flex. It’s just reality.”
“So.” She chews her lip. “The dress and the rings and the tux?”
“Drop. Drop. Drop.”
“The mansion?”
“Drop.”
“And my dad’s expenses?” She pauses. “He has so many expenses.”
“Drop,” I say. “All of them.”
She averts her eyes. “There’s something I have to tell you, though.”
My heart feels like it’s stopped beating. Especially when she swallows so hard I can practically hear the gulp. “Whatever it is,” I say, “I can take it.”
Just … please don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.
“I texted with Noah today,” she blurts.
Mr. Super Man Bun? The man she and her father need so much?
Great.
“Oh, yeah?” I work my jaw. “How’s he doing?”
She hesitates before responding. “Fine, I guess,” she says. “I reached out because I was looking for a contact at Havenwood. Someone who could help me with my dad. And he gave me a name. Joanna Parker.”
“That’s good, right?”
“But I already emailed her.”
I exhale. “We talked about that, Loren. I’m glad you took the first step.”
“Oh, I took a couple of steps,” she admits. Chewing her lip again. “Like, I told her we might be open to making donations there in the future. And that we might be interested in covering the costs of other people who can’t afford residency.”
We.
“I thought making those offers might help get my dad a spot.” Her voice catches. “But I shouldn’t have done that without talking to you first.”
“You absolutely should,” I say. “This is exactly what we planned, Loren. It’s the whole reason we’re doing any of this.”
“But I really don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage.”
“That’s the last thing I think.”
Her eyes well up. “I feel so stupid, though. I don’t even know if my dad will be willing to move. I was too afraid to bring the subject up in case it wasn’t an option. Like if there was a long waitlist. Or he didn’t qualify or something.”
I rest a hand on her elbow. Not holding her, just giving her quiet support. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
“But it could be a lot,” she says, gazing up at me. “All of it. Not just the money part."
“Maybe.” I nod. “But I’ve got you, Loren. I’ve got your dad, too.”
She swipes her nose. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Hmm. About doing everything I can to help her and her father …
Yes.
About the toll this might take on my heart …
Not even a little bit.
But I’m not going to tell her that part.
“I’m positive,” I say.
“Thank you. Honestly.”
She offers me a small smile, which I enjoy entirely too much. Then we load her dress, her veil, her matching shoes, and her little white clutch into her trunk. Afterward, I hold the car door open and wait until she’s safely inside.
“This is so not how I ever expected to spend the night before my wedding,” she says. “Then again, I wasn’t planning to get married at all anymore.”
“Same,” I say.
“I’m exhausted, but I’m not sure I can even sleep.”
“Same.”
“So, I guess this is good night and good luck,” she says. “To both of us.”
“Yep.” I bob my head. “Drive carefully.”
“Same,” she says, with a tiny laugh.
My mouth slips sideways, and before I can stop myself, three words spill from my mouth.
Not the ones I want to say.
But these:
“Sweet dreams, kitten.”