Page 47 of Acquiring Ainsley
“Come on, you know that you’re enjoying this. You’re getting the upper hand back.”
I shrugged. I did enjoy it, in a way. He’d practically fallen all over himself to please and reassure me during our conversation in his office, and I’d admit to anyone that I’d enjoyed his company. I wanted to spend more and more of my time with him. But still, I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling for him was anything close to love.
“I know we said we’d look at wedding dresses.” I drank the last of my Manhattan cocktail. “But after that conversation today, I’m not ready to look for something.” My thoughts drifted to the pending engagement party. We still had a lot to plan, and now more than ever, everything was riding on it. My conversation with Ashton about Trevor’s past, and the explanation Trevor had given for the file on his ex-girlfriend, hadn’t gone very well. My brother remained unconvinced that marrying Trevor was the right thing to do. “Can we delay this? Shop for a dress in a few weeks?”
Maybe I’d have more clarity after the engagement party, when we’d been formally announced as a couple to all of Palm Beach society.
“Fine with me. We can always look for something in Palm Beach or Miami.” Brooke took a final sip of her cocktail, placed it on the table, and rubbed her hands together. “Besides, I think you’re going to need something custom for a wedding like this. Off the rack won’t do. It must be special. It has to make a statement.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I raised my glass. I probably needed at least two more to take the edge off the lingering stress. “And you better help me plan this. You know how much is riding on it.”
“You know it,” she said. “I’ll never let you down.”
Brooke and I finished the weekend in New York City without shopping for a wedding dress. Instead, we took an afternoon at the Red Door Spa, caught a new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and met a few friends from her undergraduate days at Cornell for drinks at the New York Athletic Club.
In other words, we had a relaxing time that we both needed.
And for the rest of that time, I didn’t see Trevor at all. We texted a few times, and I called him twice, but I didn’t see him again before I left the city. It was probably better that way. His words from that day in his office still played heavy on my heart.
I finished out the weekend and returned to Florida, still unsure of how I felt about Trevor’s words. And they weighed on my mind for the next two weeks in Palm Beach as my mother and I made the final preparations for the engagement party. She’d flown in from France the night before the event. On Saturday morning, we went to Flagler Museum around ten thirty.
“Ainsley are you listening to me?”
I blinked and looked over at my mother, who held a box of small rose bouquets. “What?”
“Did you hear anything that I said?”
I shook my head.
She sighed and pointed at the box. “Can you take these and place them on the tables? I want to ask the staff about the alcohol list.”
“Sure.”
I took the box from her and began placing each low, rounded bouquet on the high-top tables that circled the center of the Flagler Museum pavilion. Mom made a few more comments about her dissatisfaction with the ambiance of the room, and then she left to find Karen, the party planner.
I kept my focus on the final details of the space. The rented room sat off to the side of the museum, and it featured floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of downtown West Palm Beach and the Intracoastal Waterway. About thirty tables lined the perimeter, and the bouquets were positioned on top of each one. I had just placed the final ones when Trevor strode through the wide doors at the far end of the room.
“You’re early,” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise. I placed the box on the ground near the last table and crossed the room to him. “I thought you were coming in later this afternoon.”
“I managed to get away.” He smiled. “Helps that I know the business owner.”
I laughed, then glanced over my shoulder at the space that, in just over six hours, would hold three hundred of our nearest and not so dearest friends. “What do you think?”
“I love it.”
“I’m glad.” I turned back to him and his expression had changed.
He made a move like he wanted to kiss me, and his hand rose and fell against my shoulder. “I’m—I had to see you, Ainsley, I couldn’t wait until tonight.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him, leaning close. “You can kiss me if you want to.”
He pulled me toward him and crushed my lips against his. I molded myself to him, aware of how in even the briefest of moments, the naturalness of this all seemed so remarkable.
When we broke away from each other, I led him to a large box of truffle chocolates all neatly wrapped in gold boxes with green ribbon. “Did you see these? Direct from Italy.” I took one from the box and handed it to him. “I think our guests are going to love them.”
“Good.” He glanced at the box and then back at me. “Do you think most of the people we invited will actually end up coming?”
“Trust me,” I said. “All of Palm Beach is coming. All of them.”
