Page 14 of A Week To Wed
I pull her to me and press a kiss to her forehead. “Everything is perfect, baby.”
ChapterSeven
Maisy
I’m 99 percent sure that Lincoln hates the dress, and I’m even more certain that he hates the price tag.
He must have seen it while paying the deposit. Of course, he did.
He’s quiet most of the ride back to the ranch, so I fill the silence with a list of questions as I flip through my binder, making a mental note to cancel the dress order and buy something off the rack instead. I feel a little guilty insisting on all those silly feathers, anyway.
“Okay. So, the dress is taken care of. Now that you’ve seen it, what are you thinking for a suit?”
“You decide,” he says.
That’s not an answer, but I can come back to that later.
“What about flowers? Since the dress is so ornate, how about something simple but elegant, like calla lilies?”
He shrugs. “Do you like those?”
“Not particularly. They sort of remind me of funerals.”
“Then what’s your favorite?”
“Bluebonnets. Hands down.”
“Then get those.”
“You don’t think those will be too much with the dress?”
“You should have what you want.”
“But they’re not in season.”
“Someone somewhere will have bluebonnets,” Lincoln declares in a voice so sure and steady, it must be true.
I like that he likes me to have what I want, but I would hope he’d have a preference for something. “What about your boutonniere? And do you want some extra of those for the ushers since we won’t have a bridal party?”
“What’s a booty-naire?”
He’s a cowboy, Maisy. He’s obviously never been to a formal wedding. Patience, patience.
“It’s a tiny floral accent pinned to a groom’s or usher’s lapel. Sometimes just one bloom.”
“If it’s what you want, I’m good.”
Hmm. How do I convince him that I really do crave his input?
“Okay. I’ll come back to that later. What about the food? I have a meeting tomorrow with a baker in town. And the caterer says we can’t have filet mignon at this point, but they can serve pork belly, sea bass, or sous vide chicken. It’s cutting it close, but they’ve promised they can come through.”
Lincoln makes a low noise in his throat. “I want to get married, that’s all. I don’t really care about the rest of it.”
I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that I’m overwhelming him with too many questions about things he’s never had to decide before. Surely, he didn’t intend to sound hurtful.
Remember, Maisy. He wants to marry you.You. Not just anyone. You reached out to him onWestern Brides, and he chose you.
Knowing that I’m marrying a good man should be enough. This man wants you and doesn’t care about your money.
