Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“You’re right,” Blair agreed. “I didn’t.”
I smiled, but inside I wondered what that was like—to be excited to marry someone because you loved them so much. Sam and I had eloped to Las Vegas, but I’d spent half my wedding night watching him play blackjack. I couldn’t think of one romantic thing about it. Even his proposal had been lackluster.
Hey. I have to go to Vegas for a conference. What do you say you come along and we get married?
“How did Cole propose?” I asked Cheyenne.
She smiled dreamily. “On Valentine’s Day. In our room at the Inn at Cloverleigh Farms, the one we’d stayed in for Blair and Griff’s wedding. It’s where we first got together.”
I nodded and looked at Blair. “What about Griffin?”
“Believe it or not, with a billboard on the highway,” she said, shaking her head. “He is not one for grand gestures, but I have to hand it to him—it was pretty amazing. And I was totally shocked.”
“Wow. That’s so romantic.”
“Oh, I can top that,” said Bianca. “Let me tell you, nothing says spend forever with me like a used engagement ring that says ‘Love Always, Ricky’ when your future fiancé’s name is Enzo.”
I laughed. “I bet he made it up to you though.”
She grinned. “He did—took him a little while, but he did.”
“Okay. All set,” said the seamstress, rising to her feet. “Just leave it in the fitting room, and I’ll grab it. When you check out, make an appointment to pick it up next week, and bring the shoes back to try it on.”
“Thank you, I will.” As I stepped off the podium, I looked down at my bare toenails peeking out from the top strap. “Wish I had time for a pedicure.”
“Ooh, you should come with us next Friday morning,” Cheyenne said. “I could call and try to add you to our appointments.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, but I’ll manage. I don’t want to leave Elliott and take off for the salon. And I’m trying to keep Mr. Weaver out of trouble during the day so Beckett can work without worrying.”
Cheyenne nodded. “I understand.”
“Speaking of Beckett, I need to get home before he has to leave for baseball practice.”
On my way to the fitting rooms, I passed a bride coming out to the mirrors. She wore a big white dress and a wide happy grin, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Behind her, a woman that might have been her mother carried the dress’s long train. She was smiling too, her eyes misty.
I stood aside so they could get by me. “Gorgeous gown,” I said.
“Thank you. It’s my final fitting.” The bride giggled nervously. “I can’t believe it.”
“You look beautiful,” I told her. “Congratulations.”
She thanked me again, and they disappeared into the salon. Pulling aside the velvet curtain of my fitting room, I took off the blue dress and hung it up. As I slipped my floral sundress back over my head, I wondered if I’d ever experience that kind of excitement—the kind that emanates from your heart and lights you up from the inside out and makes you feel like the luckiest, most beautiful girl in the world because someone loves you enough—you, just as you are—to promise you forever and mean it.
Had I forfeited my chance already?
Or was there still hope?
“Anyone have time for a quick drink at the pub?” Blair asked as we left the salon and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “We could sit at one of the outdoor tables.”
“Me,” said Bianca, clapping her hands. “It’s Enzo’s turn to make dinner. I’ve got an hour.”
“I wish I could, but I have to get home,” Cheyenne said, draping the heavy garment bag holding her dress over one arm.
“I should get back too,” I said. “Beckett was trying to work, keep his dad occupied, and keep an eye on Elliott all at the same time when I left.”
“How’s everything going with you guys?” Bianca asked.
“Good.” I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. “Really good.”
“Wait, what did I miss?” Blair grabbed my arm. “Did something happen since I saw you Saturday night?”
“Um, yes.” I exchanged a grin with Bianca.
“Does this mean there is now officially a thing?” Cheyenne squealed.
“I suppose,” I said, laughing. “There’s something, at least. I’m not sure how official it is.”
Bianca let out a huge breath, as if she’d been holding it in for an hour. “God, it’s been so hard keeping that in for two days!”
“I know you only have a minute, but give us the quick version,” Blair begged. “Did you end up having to make the first move?”
“Sort of.” I told them about Saturday night—our conversation in the hall, sneaking across to his bedroom, the scene in the kitchen afterward.
“Oh no,” Cheyenne said, laughing a little. “Poor Mr. Weaver. And poor you. It must be tough to get alone time.”