I laugh. “You’re like me. You’ve got that bad streak.”
She glances around with mock innocence. “Me? I’m well-behaved.”
“Yeah. And I’m a nun.”
She bursts out laughing. “I was a ballerina.”
“What? Seriously? Like—shows and everything?”
Wow. That actually suits her.
“Yep. The full spectacle.” Her voice softens, a shadow crossing it.
“And not anymore?”
“Nope. That dream got crushed a while ago.”
I reach across the table and rest my hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
She offers me a small smile. “It’s okay. I’ve moved on. And we’ve got a plan to make, right?”
That we do. A very important one.
77
REGGIE
Song- Church, Chase Atlantic
Rowan heads off to meet Conan at the gym, leaving me with too much quiet and too many thoughts.
By the time I pull into the driveway, my pulse has settled into that steady rhythm that only one person can disrupt.
When I open the door, I expect the smell of cookies or burning. With Bella, it’s always a gamble.
But there’s neither. Just stillness.
“Bella?” I call out as I step into the kitchen. The counter’s a mess. Flour everywhere, butter softening, a bowl half-mixed like she abandoned it mid-chaos.
Footsteps sound from the stairs. She appears, flustered and breathless, trying too hard to look casual.
“What have you been up to?” I ask, closing the distance between us.
“Just reorganizing my clothes.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I tilt my head. “You sure about that?”
Her throat works, her pulse skipping beneath the skin. Lying. I know it.
But I let it slide—for now.
“My wedding dress is in there,” she says quietly.
Nodding, I press my lips to hers. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”
I don’t tell her I’ve already imagined it a hundred different ways. Her walking toward me, soft light on her skin, the sound of her laugh echoing through marble and stained glass.
“Now, are you ready?”