Page 59 of Love Her

He gave me the kind of look that said he’d picked a sex toy off of my bed yesterday.

“We’re preserving the dress’s silhouette,” the dress maker said, sounding sharp. I didn’t think she was on my side so much as she didn’t want to pop the sleeves off of this fancy-ass dress in under two weeks, but I would take any quarter I could find.

On a sliding scale where one was a casual-court-house-elopement and ten was a fairytale-princess, the dress was a three thousand—it was just a shame it didn’t come with a godmother of my own.

Then again, I was kind of dating someone from the Godfather, soooo….

“Will I get a tiara?” I wondered aloud, just to see if Arnold was going all-in.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, just below where his glasses landed. “Sure. I don’t see why not.”

After that it was a cake-tasting—anotherevent from which my fiancé was happily, but also somewhat creepily, absent for—and then we went to a florist and picked out dramatic designs.

I started off wondering just what I could get away with, and when I found out it was quite a lot…I went all in. Mostly in the hopes that if Marcus saw the billbeforethe wedding, there was a chance he’d have a heart-attack, and save Rhaim and I a lot of trouble.

But after that was a catering trip and by the end of the day I’d started almost feeling bad for Arnold, who was clearly highly invested, but also a little out of his depth.

“Never been married?” I asked him, right before a driver took us to the restaurant where I’d get the chance to meet my forthcoming step-kids for the first time.

“No.”

“Any siblings who’ve been married?”

“No. But neither have you,” he said.

“Yes, but I’m a girl. We come with this shit pre-installed.”

“I’ve planned state dinners before.”

“Oh good then!” I said, clapping my hands and giving him a fake grin. “I’ll let you pick out the forks.”

I could see him swallowing his words as the car we were in pulled over to drop me off. “Tomorrow you’ve got an interview with the New York Chronicle.”

I gasped without thinking. It was the newspaper where Isabelle had worked. But Arnold thought I was impressed, instead. “That’s right. And they’re going to want to hear every detail about today. Don’t skimp—make sure they’ve got enough for at least five inches.”

“I’ll chew the poor woman’s ear off,” I promised, then got out of the car.

I didn’t haveto wait at the hostess stand—they saw me coming, and ushered me to a table at the back of a dimly lit room, where two men—a blond and a brunette who were close to me in age—were seating. When they saw me coming, the brunette elbowed the other, to make him look up from his phone.

I took a seat and smiled at them. “I’m Lia. Nice to meet you,” I said, offering my hand out to the one beside me first.

He was the one with lighter hair, and he didn’t put his phone away, just set it on the table with the screen down. “Zane,” he said, ignoring my hand and giving me a nod.

“Weston,” said the darker haired one, after shaking my hand. “You can call me Wes.”

“Thank you, Wes,” I said, navigating my napkin beneath the table.

“So, like—have you ever shot someone?” Zane asked, giving me a look, while idly playing with his fork.

“Excuse me?”

“Or if you haven’t—maybe like, your dad?”

I inhaled and ratcheted my smile up another notch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We saw you on TV. And we know, of course, that you have to say all that,” Zane went on, gesturing between himself and his sibling. “But—we’re friends here, right?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I mean, you’re going to be family,” Wes said, nodding eagerly.

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