Chapter 13 #3
“When Derek proposed, I was terrified. Not of marrying him—I wanted that. But of the wedding.” She laughs softly.
“Sometimes I feel like Mom and Dad…and just about everyone else, put me up on this pedestal. Expect me to be picture perfect.” She pauses, letting out a breath.
“It’s a lot sometimes. And I was so nervous about the wedding.
I just wanted it to be…different. Not something for anyone else, but something for Derek and me.
” She reaches out, her fingertips brushing my wrist. “I couldn’t have pulled any of this off without you.
Everything you’ve done, from the bridal-cation to the meet-and-greet party to the couples shower, you somehow managed to make them truly about us.
About our story. It means so much to me. ”
My chest tightens.
“You’re really good at what you do, Chloe. I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you. Of your business. Of how hard you’ve worked.”
I’m going to cry. Right here. With a honey-lavender mask on my face and cucumber slices I haven’t even gotten yet.
“Thank you,” I manage. Barely.
“I mean it. You’re talented. And you’re brave. And you deserve all the good things.” She pauses. “Including Brody.”
“Oh, this is wonderful,” someone says, though I know the voice instantly.
Our mom appears, settling into the chair next to me with a contented sigh.
Like us, she’s got on a plush white robe, her hair wrapped in a towel.
But unlike me, she looks like she’s actually gotten some relaxation in.
“It’s so nice to see my girls together, getting pampered before the big day. ”
My girls. She said my girls. Plural. Including me.
Something in my chest loosens.
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. Smiles, warm and genuine. “Everything is perfect, by the way. All the events you planned were beautiful. You really outdid yourself. I think you’ve finally found your calling.”
And there it goes again. Whatever just loosened tightens right back up. A few months ago, I would have given anything to hear her say that. But now…there’s a scared dragon and a blind princess calling too…
She squeezes my hand again. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Really proud.”
Thank goodness for the cucumbers Amber presses to my eyelids, because I was about to be known as that one guest who cried during her facial.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of beauty treatments and girl talk.
We get our nails done—I choose a soft pink that makes my hands look elegant.
We sit in the relaxation room afterward, sipping cucumber water and eating those fancy tiny sandwiches you only see in movies.
The bridesmaids show up too, chattering about the wedding and their dresses and their dates.
And through it all, of course, I’m thinking about Brody. About the way he said “I’m with Chloe” to Jennifer like he meant it.
About how the contract ends tomorrow.
And about Svetlana’s words. Life is short. You tell him. He loves you too, probably.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should tell him. Maybe there’s a world in which Brody and I get the happily ever after.
By the time we’re getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, I’m a new woman.
My skin is glowing. My nails are perfect.
My hair is done in loose waves that one of the bridesmaids helped me with, soft and romantic and nothing like my usual messy bun.
I’m wearing a navy-blue dress—simple, fitted, hitting just above the knee.
And most of all, I’ve got that confident glow that comes with being so sure that love has finally found you.
And I know what I’m going to do.
The rehearsal dinner is in the resort’s private dining room—a space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake, long tables set with white linens and candles. It’s warm and romantic and perfect. It smells like winter, and I spot pine garland someone draped along the windowsills.
I walk in and immediately scan the room for Brody. He’s near the windows, talking to a couple of Derek’s groomsmen—guys from the team. He looks good. Relaxed. Happy.
And then he sees me.
His whole expression changes. Softens. He excuses himself from Tyler and crosses the room toward me with purpose.
“Hey,” he says when he reaches me.
“Hey.”
We’re standing close. Closer than necessary. The room is filling up with people—family, wedding party—but I barely notice them. My heart is already pounding, and I haven’t even gotten to the scary part yet.
“You look beautiful,” Brody says quietly. His fingertips brush my arm, sliding into my palm.
Something in my chest expands, warm and bright and terrifying.
This is what love feels like.
“Thank you,” I manage. “You look pretty good yourself.”
“Dinner’s starting,” Maya calls from across the room. “Everyone, find your seats!”
Brody offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I take it. Let him lead me to our assigned seats—next to each other, naturally.
The meal unfolds around us. Speeches from Derek’s dad about love and commitment. Toasts from the best man about hockey metaphors that mostly don’t land. Laughter and clinking glasses and the kind of warm chaos that comes from gathering people who love each other in one room.
And through it all, Brody, his fingers intertwined with mine under the table, holds on like he’s not planning to let go.
Between the main course and dessert, when people are mingling and the formal part is over, he leans close. His breath is warm against my ear.
“Can we talk later? After this?”
“Yes.” My voice comes out breathier than intended. “I need to talk to you too.”
“Good.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s important.”
“Mine too.”
We sit there with the weight of unspoken words between us, both of us knowing that something is about to change. That tonight, after this dinner, we’re going to have the conversation we’ve been avoiding for weeks.
That the contract ends tomorrow, but whatever this is between us—this real, terrifying, beautiful thing—doesn’t have to.
We just have to play it right.