Page 84 of If You Claim Me
I peek my head into the room. She’s standing by the vanity, homemade bracelets scattered across the marble top. Her eyes move over me in a way that’s become pleasantly familiar.
“You look great,” she says, running her hands nervously over her hips.
“So do you.” She’s dressed in a floor-length, dark purple dress. The lines are simple and crisp, which flatter her curvy figure. “I have something for you.”
She arches a brow. “Because the dress, shoes, and bag weren’t enough?”
“Well, you can’t go to the rehearsal dinner naked, darling.”
“It would be a statement, and so would an off-the-rack dress from JCPenney.”
I cross the room. “My parents would be furious. Post-wedding, you can shop wherever you like.”
“You make it sound like I was asking permission.” Mildred looks up at me, eyes flashing with defiance.
“You don’t like the dress?” I agonized over the right one; the softness of the fabric, her comfort, how beautiful she would look.
“That’s not what I said.”
I can’t get a read on her emotions, other than nervousness. “If you’d prefer to change into something else, you’re more than welcome.” I give in to the urge to skim the length of her arm. “But I picked it out for you thinking you might like it, and it didn’t cost anyone’s arm or leg.” Lexi mentioned that Mildred isn’t used to extravagant gifts, and that I might need to adjust accordingly, so I did. “I just want tonight to be as pain-free as possible for you.”
Her expression softens. “I love the dress. There’s just a new one for every event. I hate having a closet full of clothes I’m not supposed to wear again.”
“You can wear them as often as you like. And if there are too many for you, they don’t have to stay in your closet. We can donate them.”
Her eyes light up, and relief washes through me. “I’d like that. There’s a prom dress program at the group home not far from my work.”
“Then that’s where we’ll take them.” I pull the jewelry box from my pocket and flip it open. It’s a necklace of diamonds, the one in the center a soft pink. It’s definitely extravagant, but it complements her dress. “This belonged to Meems. My grandfather gave it to her the night of their rehearsal dinner, and she gave it to me a few years ago, probably hoping I’d get here faster.” I smile, and she laughs.
“It’s beautiful,” Mildred whispers.
I swallow my anxiety. “I’d love for you to wear it tonight, but only if you want to.”
“It would be an honor.” Her fingers go to her lips, and she nods.
I free the necklace from the box, and she turns to face the vanity, moving her hair aside. Behind her ear is a tiny shooting star tattoo, yellow and white with a purple and blue tail. Irefocus my attention and carefully clasp the necklace at her nape.
My fingers brush her shoulder, and she covers my hand with hers, our eyes locking in the reflection.
“We can pretend it’s real again tonight,” she whispers, eyes full of the longing that’s become impossible to ignore lately.
I hold her gaze and bend to press a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “It’s perfect on you.”
The tension between us has been growing like ivy since she spent the night in my bed after her bachelorette party. I woke alone, and it hasn’t happened since, but she also hasn’t returned the borrowed shirt. Every night when I carry her from the library to her bedroom, she’s wearing it.
My phone chimes in my pocket. A message from Cedrick informs me the car is ready. “It’s time to go.” I bend and scoop up her shoes.
Mildred finds her clutch, then grabs a handful of the bracelets scattered across the vanity.
“Let me help you with those,” I offer.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Half the bracelets scatter across the floor. She frantically shoves the remaining ones on her wrist, then crouches to retrieve the rest.
I drop to one knee beside her and gather the closest bracelets. They’re old and worn, with names on some and designs on others. They remind me of friendship bracelets from high school days.
I gently take her hand, but she snatches it away. Her head is bowed, wrist turned into her body.
The fallen bracelets dangle between my thumb and forefinger. “What about these?”
