Page 81 of The Fine Line
“Well, it’s not real,” I remind her. “And the dress is from JC Penny’s.”
I turn away from her, looking in the mirror to put my earrings on.
Her lips purse as she watches me. “I talked with Rhett a little bit ago. Ran into him in the hotel lobby.”
“Yeah?” I say, adjusting my straps.
“He’s…sweet.”
I meet her eyes in the reflection. “So is every stray dog that follows you home. Doesn’t mean you let it inside.”
She tilts her head. “You might fall in love with it though. If you give it a chance.”
“Sure. And then it might give me rabies.”
She sniffs a laugh, looking at me in that way moms do. When they want to say more but don’t want to be overbearing. I spare her the decision.
“Could you help me with this, please?” I ask, motioning to the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Of course,” she smiles, reaching for it. But then her phone rings.
She stops. Pulling it out and looking down at it. “Sorry, sweetie. This is Alexis.”
My older brother Colton’s wife. The daughter-in-law of her dreams. She’s incredible. And she fills all the holes for Mom that I wasn't made to.
“Mom, can you just zip me up first?—?”
Too late. She’s gone. Out the door, already talking on the phone.
I groan and drop my hands to my sides.
A soft knock on the door cuts through my thoughts. I glance up.
And there he is.
Rhett stands in the doorway. He’s wearing a black suit I’ve seen him wear into the arena on game days. For some reason, it looks sharper today. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s about to get married in it.
To me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I reply, offering him a tight smile that he returns.
It’s awkward. We’re awkward.
We haven’t acknowledged what we’re doing. Not since we agreed to it.
And I guess there’s no need. It’s just business.
But I don’t know where the air between us suddenly feels like it has electricity in it.
I twist slightly, showing him the open back of my dress. “Do you mind zipping me up?”
He nods, stepping behind me silently. His fingers brush my back, warm and deliberate. He takes his time pulling up the zipper, then keeps his fingers lingering on it when he’s done.I see his brows furrowed in the reflection of the mirror as he stares down at his hands.
Like he can sense me watching him, his gaze lifts to meet mine.
Before either of us can say anything, the officiant pops his head in.
