Page 97 of Stolen Vows

I step closer, my bare feet quiet on the hardwood floor. Romeo pads across the living room, greeting me with forehead bumps to my shins. I crouch down and he wiggles his way closer, resting the top of his head against my chest.

“Fluffy hugs are the best way to start your day, you know,” she muses.

I rest my cheek on his head, dragging both hands through his soft fur. “He’s a good boy.”

Romeo’s tail thumps against the floor, his soft fur tickling my cheek as I hold him close. For a moment, the world narrows down to this simple, perfect thing. The warm weight of him in my arms, the uncomplicated affection he offers so freely. It’s grounding in a way I didn’t know I needed until now.

I glance up at Francesca, finding her watching us with a soft, tender expression that makes my heart stutter in my chest. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter, an iced coffee cradled between her hands.

Now this—thisis the best way to start my day.

And just like that, I’m fucked. Because my morning started with Francesca, and now, I don’t want my day to start any other way.

32

FRANCESCA

It’s Sunday night.My first Carter family dinner, which I’m told is a weekly tradition.

I tell myself it’s fine. That it’s just dinner. A single meal with his entire family. What’s the worst that could happen?

I’ve suffered through more dinners in my life than I can count. Stiff, formal affairs where every word was measured, every smile practiced. Where I had to be perfect, poised, the dutiful daughter. So why is this one making my palms sweat and my stomach churn?

Maybe it’s because this time, it matters. These people, this family, they’re a part of my life now in a way that feels significant. Permanent. They’re not just Graham’s family anymore. They’re mine too. At least for the next year.

And I desperately want them to like me.

I smooth my hands down the front of my dress, the soft fabric doing little to soothe my nerves. It’s a pale blue sundress, the color of a clear summer sky. Simple, classic. I paired it with strappy sandals and left my hair down in loose waves.

I hope it’s appropriate for dinner. Graham didn’t give me much to go on, just said “you always look perfect.” Which make butterfly wings brush against my ribcage inside of me, but didn’t really answer my question.

We never had Sunday night dinners with my family. We had formal, catered affairs planned weeks in advance. Cocktail attire required, polite smiles mandatory. I can’t remember the last time we gathered for a simple family meal. If we ever did.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies swirling in my stomach. It’s just dinner. With my husband’s family. Who I desperately want to make a good impression on. No big deal.

Romeo sprawls across my bed, watching me with mild disinterest as I swipe on lip gloss. He huffs dramatically, resting his chin on his paws.

I point at him through the mirror. “I can feel your judgment.”

His tail thumps once.

I exhale, pressing my lips together to even out the gloss. “I’m sorry you can’t come with. But I’ll work on them tonight, okay? It might take a little time, but I’m sure they’ll come around.” Graham once proclaimed not to be a dog person and now I catch him sneaking Romeo treats every time I turn around. I have faith the rest of the Carters will come around.

A soft knock on my bedroom door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “Francesca.”

I turn to see Graham leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing a button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans hugging his muscular thighs. His hair is pulled back into that effortless bun, a few strands escaping to frame his face.

He looks good. Unfairly good. The kind of good that makes my mouth go dry and my heart skip a beat.

His gaze sweeps over me, slow and deliberate, taking in every inch from my sandals to the loose waves of my hair. Something warm and appreciative flickers in his eyes, making my skin tingle.

“You look beautiful,” he says, voice low and rough around the edges.

Heat blooms in my cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

A small, crooked smile tugs at his lips as he pushes off the doorframe and steps into the room. Romeo’s ears perk up and he lifts his head, tail thumping.

“Ready, wife?”

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