Page 57 of Right With You
“Uh, hello. What’s going on?” I asked, shoving a slice of apple into my mouth before whatever this was exploded all over my snack time.
Aurelie fluttered over to me on tiptoes and held out her hands. Instinctively, I gave her mine.
“This is our gala prep team. We’ve got hair”— she waved at a tall man with blond hair artfully swirling up like a wave on his head and a wide smile who twiddled his fingers at me, “makeup,”—she grinned at a woman with stunning cat eyes, deep red lips, and a purple Leia bun on one side of her head with the other shaved, “and styling.” The final woman offered a nod toward me as she used both hands to unwrap the dresses hanging from the portable clothing rack.
“Wait. I hadn’t planned on any of this. Luc said he’d send some dress options, but…” My words faded out as I realized this wasn’t Luc’s doing. Maybe the dresses were, but more likely, this was all thanks to the maniac smiling so broadly, I could practically feel the elation rolling off her in waves.
I chuckled and accepted my fate, ignoring the twinge of excitement in favor of staying grumpy for one more minute. “You and my friends would get along.” If Jo and Dove were here—heck, ifanyof them were here, they’d be delighted.
She pouted, pushing her plush lips out into a ridiculous frown. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who hates dressing up?”
Her pout might’ve seemed silly, but her tone and the disappointment in her eyes were clear. I didn’t want her to be sad, and I wasn’t against dressing up.
“No, not necessarily. It’s just intimidating. I don’t normally mix with these crowds.” Even though I knew many of the people who’d be there tonight, Silverton residents or otherwise, I didn’t normally parade around in evening gowns. The two cocktail dresses this last week had been a stretch as it was.
Aurelie’s energy perked up again. “You belong there, just as anyone does. But to make sure you look the part, and therefore feel every bit like you own the place, we’ve got reinforcements.” She winked at me, then smiled over at the team. “And when my brother sees you, he’s going to want to move the wedding date up. But if you don’t want any of it, say the word. Are you in?”
My stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Luc. I’d gotten glimpses of him in tuxes at various events—the film fest in the fall and maybe some other thing the Saint men had to do in their line of duty that entailed looking all badass and also wear a tux like they were our own local James Bonds.
I hadn’t fully thought about how powerful it might be to see him up close and personal in a tux. As my date.
As my fiancé.
The ring he’d given me, the absolutely stunning perfection of a ring, warmed my finger. I fiddled with it for a moment, drawing in a long, steadying breath. “I’m in.”
No matter that I’d just shared a bed with the man for the first time ever last night. No matter that my heart reacted far too intensely any time I heard his name, thought of him, or actually saw him.
I’d show up looking fabulous and play the part he’d asked me to play. Tonight was essentially our big finale.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Luc
The ballroom bustled with activity in all corners and the opulent room looked even glitzier with gold and black décor like something out of Gatsby. Thank goodness they hadn’t made it a themed affair.
My day with Jenna had been fine. I’d been dragging thanks to minimal sleep, but I’d held it together and she’d force-fed me espresso at regular intervals, so I was alert. Maybe too alert based on the way my heart was racing just standing here looking for Elise.
She and Aurelie had taken a car. They’d left my house more than ten—I checked my phone and saw the time stamp—more than twelve minutes ago. They should be here any minute.
“You going to make it?” Kenny asked, chuckling and not even trying to make it under his breath.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, then grumbled, “Sorry. I’m edgy. I don’t know why.”
Kenny slung an arm around my shoulders. “Could it be that you’re eager to see your fake fiancée, and that you’re also nervous about what kind of nonsense Grandpaps has planned?”
Chuckling, reluctantly it should be noted, I nudged him away. “Yes. All of that. Except the part where you call my grandfather Grandpaps.” I laughed saying the word.
“I’ve gotta go do my job while you luxuriate and be an actual guest at this shindig but enjoy your totally not real, completely fake, definitely not catching feelings date when she arrives.” He winked, then scampered off like a coward before I could respond.
But what could I say to the barb? He was an observant guy, and as was so often the case with him, he wasn’t wrong.
This fake engagement had turned into something real. There was a closeness building between the two of us, and not simply because we’d kissed or shared a bed.
She may not have wanted a relationship, but she was showing me care and concern in ways no one ever had. She forced me to see the value in my service and encouraged me to be proud in a way I was certain Kenny or Beast or Stone would’ve, and yet coming from her, who hadn’t been with me in the service and didn’t necessarily share the same value, it felt rarer. And I was showing her parts of me no woman had ever known, certainly. I’d never been so vulnerable, never showed someone I’d dated the familial wounds or fears. My friends had seen those parts of me in some ways, but she was essentially living them out with me in real time and supporting me every step.
“Che splendore.” Michele had sidled up with a drink in hand, but before he said anything to me, his whispered words slipped out and I knew he would only be saying such a thing about his wife.
And with his wife, my beloved sister, would be Elise.
