Chapter 13 #2
Ash is standing in the kitchen, shirtless, nursing a bottle of Pellegrino, his eyes widening the second he sees me.
And he goes completely still.
I freeze too, caught mid-tulle-flick, feeling like I’ve just waltzed into some kind of bridal humiliation fantasy.
“I know,” I blurt, throwing my hands up. “I look like a frosted cupcake.”
Ash doesn’t answer.
He just stares at me like I’ve grown wings and started glowing.
“What?” I ask, trying to sound casual, even though every inch of me is blushing. “Say something. Anything.”
He exhales, low and slow, like I knocked the wind out of him. “I mean, yeah. The dress isn’t very you.”
I nod vigorously. “Exactly. Thank you.”
“But—” he tilts his head, eyes raking over me in that way that makes my skin prickle “—you still look beautiful.”
My breath hitches.
He pushes off the counter, coming closer, voice quieter now. “Like… unfairly beautiful.”
I laugh, nervously. “In this? I look like a disgruntled Disney princess.”
“You look like the kind of woman who’d ruin a man in the best possible way,” he murmurs, stopping just in front of me.
My stomach flips.
“I’m sweaty,” I whisper.
He smirks. “So? Still gorgeous.”
I stare at him, lips parted, and for a second, I forget all about the scratchy lace and the rhinestones stabbing my armpits.
And then—he kisses me. Slow. Intentional.
His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his mouth meets mine—gentle, patient, reverent in a way that makes my chest ache. Like he’s memorizing me with every movement.
My fingers curl into his bare forearms. I’m not thinking—just feeling. I don’t care that I look like a glitter-dusted cupcake or probably smell like panic sweat and nerves.
All I care about is this kiss. This man. And the way I never want it to end.
We’ve kissed since that night, but only quick, casual pecks. Last night, Ash had meetings with his PR team after the talent show, and when I left for work this morning, he was still asleep.
But the moment is broken when Nina walks in.
“Oh,” she says, her voice lifting with theatrical surprise. “So that’s how this is going.”
We spring apart like guilty teenagers—which, for the record, only makes us look more suspicious.
Ash coughs, raking a hand through his hair.
I make a squeaky sound that lands somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze. “Nina!”
She leans against the doorframe, one brow arched in epic judgment. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your pre-marital groping session.” Her tone is dry enough to toast bread.
My cheeks go up in flames. “It wasn’t—we weren’t—”
“Kissing?” she deadpans. “Yeah, I caught that.”
Then she turns to me, all business. “Now. Can we get back to finding you a dress that doesn’t look like it was designed by a glitter-happy toddler?”
I nod, still trying not to combust from either embarrassment or excitement.
Back in my room, she shuts the door and crosses her arms. “Okay. Spill.”
“I—uh—what?”
Nina tilts her head, unimpressed. “You know what.”
I drop onto the edge of my bed and bury my face in my hands. “We slept together. I know this is all supposed to be fake, but it just… happened. It wasn’t planned.”
“Olive,” she says, her voice softening. She sits beside me and gently pries my hands away from my face.
“You slept with Ash Ryder. A rockstar. Your fake fiancé. I know I joked earlier that you should get with him, but this is going to get messy, fast. He doesn’t exactly scream ‘monogamous and emotionally available.’”
I groan. “I know. He told me he’s not looking for anything real.”
“I’m your best friend. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” Her expression turns worried. “You’ve been playing with fire since the second he walked into your life. He’s your brother’s best friend. A literal rockstar. And you’re… well, you.”
“Thanks?” I say flatly.
“You know what I mean.” She squeezes my hand. “Just… protect yourself, okay? Don’t fall for him. That’s a heartbreak waiting to happen.”
My heart twists. She’s right—but I can’t seem to stop.
With a sigh, I reach for the next dress on the hanger. Nina zips me up without a word.
Then I turn to the mirror.
My breath catches.
The world stutters.
It’s simple. Elegant. Soft. The kind of dress that whispers instead of screams. Ivory, with fluttery cap sleeves and a deep V that somehow feels daring and romantic all at once.
The bodice hugs me like it was made for my body, and the fabric skims down to the floor in a way that makes me look taller, softer… braver.
I step closer to the mirror, my fingers brushing the silk at my waist.
For the first time tonight, I don’t feel like a kid playing dress-up. I feel like a woman. A bride.
I feel… beautiful.
“Ash is going to fall over when he sees you in that,” Nina whispers from behind me.
And that’s when the emotion hits.
I blink fast, but it’s no use. Tears pool anyway.
Because I want to be beautiful for him.
Because I want him to look at me in this and see forever.
Because the person I want most to show this dress to—my grandma—never will.
She would’ve cried too, probably more than me.
She would’ve taken one look and declared it perfect, then started fussing with my hair and calling me her little “marzipan bride.” She would’ve made me twirl.
Would’ve kissed my cheek and told me this was the moment she’d been waiting for since I was born.
Nina sees the tears and steps forward instantly, wrapping her arms around me.
“Oh, O,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “I know.”
I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “This is the one.”
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders. “Then that’s that.”
I glance at my reflection again.
And I believe it.
This is the dress I’ll walk down the aisle in.