Page 52 of Crazy Love

I nod.

“And where are you landing about people being there?” he asks. “Still keeping it to ourselves?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, but I think the fewer people there, the better.”

“Okay. Can Sam be there? Just since he’ll be in the house with us. I do think…” He looks uncomfortable. “I think we shouldn’t tell a soul that it isn’t real. Not Sam, not our families or friends…no one. It puts them in a bad position if they’re asked any questions.”

“I agree.”

He looks relieved. “Okay then.”

“How about Friday we pick Sam up from school and do it then? That way it’s just the three of us.”

“He’ll love that. Wow.Addy.I just can’t believe you’re doing this for me. For Sam. I’m going to be in shock for a long time.”

“Are you gonna marry us, Preacher Man?”

He smirks. “Legally, I could, but just to ensure that no questions are raised about the legitimacy of it, I think we should get married at the courthouse with a justice of the peace.”

I hold my hand out. “It’s your call. Would’ve been entertaining to hear what you had to say, but whatevs.”

He laughs. “I’d rather stay all built up in your mind.”

“Oh, is that what you think you are? On a pedestal in my mind?” Ever since he walked into the room, I haven’t been able to stop smiling.

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s where you are in mine. Especially now.”

My cheeks warm. “You really are very sweet.”

He gets a funny expression on his face. “Can’t say I’ve been told that before. Hot, fun…crazy…” His eyes crinkle as he laughs. “Sweet doesn’t come up much.”

“Well, you are. Sam is really lucky to have you, you know that?”

“I’m the lucky one. He’s changed my life for the better. I’m still a selfish bastard, but…I care about him.”

“You’re not a selfish bastard, Penn. If you were, there’s no way you’d be considering any of this.”

Why make a big deal out of a dress for a wedding that isn’t even real? I don’t care about it. No big deal. This is just a formality, something to make Penn’s life easier.

Yeah, it might not be a real wedding, but I’m damn sure going to look pretty.

The bridal boutique smells like gardenias and childhood dreams. Brides are in there with their mothers and best friends, giggling as they sip champagne and twirl in front of the wall of mirrors.

I feel conspicuous in my aloneness.

The saleswoman, a woman with short grey hair, approaches me. “Shopping for a special occasion?”

“Yes. I need something simple but elegant. A daytime courthouse wedding.”

“I’ve got the perfect thing.” She leads me to a row of sleek dresses, all understated but lovely.

I flip through them, trailing my fingers over satin and intricate beading, everything still feeling like too much. But then I see it. A shimmering white with a low neckline that is still tasteful and a back that dips just enough. The hem hits mid-knee and when I hold it up in the light, I can see that it’s perfect.

I walk into the fitting room and slip the dress on, my fingers trembling slightly as I zip it up. I exhale when I turn and look in the mirror. This will do.

It takes extraordinary willpower not to call Goldie and tell her everything, not to run to my parents’ house and let them in on the plan.

I’m so afraid that I’ll say something that I shouldn’t, that I don’t leave the house for the next couple of days, except to go to work. And then before I know it, it’s Friday.

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