Page 240 of My French Love Affair

I carefully lift the stunning ivory dress out of the bag.

The fabric is silky and lightweight, draping effortlessly over my hands. It’s a classic Dior design: elegant yet modern, with a subtle structured corset bodice and a delicate A-line skirt that flares just slightly, giving it the perfect amount of movement.

It’s timeless. Chic.

It’s perfect.

But there’s more.

Beneath the dress, there’s a matching clutch, a pair of designer sunglasses, and -

A box.

I glance at Emma, who vibrates with anticipation, as I lift it out of the bag and carefully open it.

It’s a pair of Dior heels, sleek and perfectly coordinated with the outfit.

Emma shakes her head in disbelief, flopping onto the bed dramatically.

"Okay, so when’s the wedding?"

I glare at her. "You’re insane."

“I’minsane?!” she near screeches. " This isn’t justflirting, Poppy - this is fucking courtship. I’m telling you, he’s asking for your hand in marriage next."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t ignore the warmth spreading through my chest.

He really thought ofeverything.

* * *

The girls and I spend the morning getting ready, laughter and excitement bouncing off the walls of our suite.

Emma takes it in turn to style our hair, and she curls my hair into soft, glamorous waves. Once I’ve put on most of my makeup, Jas comes over to perfect it, blending everything seamlessly to create that effortless, glowy look.

Leah, in true Leah fashion, sips champagne as she watches from the sidelines.

Once we’re all ready, we head down to the hotel’s terracegarden, taking some photos before we leave. The setting is stunning - lush greenery, white columns and the blue Mediterranean glistening in the distance.

I position myself against the railing, the sunlight catching the silk of my dress, my hair cascading over my shoulders. Emma snaps a few shots before nodding in approval.

"Send that to your man."

I snort.

"He’s not my man."

She arches a brow, and I know better than to argue any more.

I pull out my phone and type out a message.

Thank you for the gifts.

You really didn’t have to.

Then, after a second of hesitation, I attach the photo.

I exhale, locking my phone and shoving it into my bag before I can overthink the fact that this is the first time I’ve messaged him first.

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