Page 55 of Highest Bid

She sent him a brazen smile. “You clearly just needed the right woman to settle down with.”

“Clearly,” he echoed huskily. “I only hope my brothers are as fortunate as me and find their soulmates.”

Her happy glow didn’t dim until the moment he pulled into her parents’ driveway, where the all-too-familiar feelings of inadequacy and nervous tension sucked the joy right out of her.

She sat immobile, gnawing on her lower lip as Galan climbed out and opened her door. “And I finally get to be a gentleman,” he teased. His dark gaze moved over her. “Relax, firecracker. You’re not about to face a firing squad.”

“It feels that way,” she admitted.

“I’ve got your back, okay?”

She took his hand as he drew her to her feet. She gazed up at him and said softly, “I know you do.”

They were almost at the front door when Layla’s mom wrenched it open and flew outside. She dragged Layla into her arms and all but sobbed against her shoulders. “Where were you? We’ve been so worried!”

Layla drew away from her mom’s cloud of floral perfume and sticky hairspray residue, her emotions snarled up inside. “I just needed a break from everything.” She lifted her eyes to see her dad framed in the doorway. She blinked. That he was still sober was nothing short of miraculous. “Dad,” she said weakly.

He stepped outside, and it was his turn to pull her into a bear hug that almost stole the air from her lungs. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I’m fine.” She stepped back, her eyes connecting with Galan’s. “In fact, I’m more than fine.” As Galan put his arm around her waist, Layla lifted her hand to show off her sparkly ring. “We’re getting married.”

Her mother squealed and clapped her hands, her eyes shining as she stared at the masterpiece on Layla’s finger. “Oh, I knew it! I told Mark that Galan wasn’t lying about having the best of intentions for our girl.”

Her dad stepped forward and shook Galan’s hand. “Welcome to the family, though I’m sure you’re wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into...we haven’t exactly been the greatest parents to our wonderful girl.”

Layla gaped, before she turned to her mom, who said softly, “We’ve changed, Layla, we really have. Your dad isn’t drinking anymore, and we’ve been spending time together. He even watches my performances now.”

“Hottest woman on stage,” Layla’s dad added huskily.

Layla’s mom smiled shyly, before she added, “We’ve also been talking and realized Galan was right. Mark and I were too busy blaming each other for the loss of our son, when we should have been grateful for the gift of our wonderful daughter.”

Her dad slumped. “We thought we had everything, didn’t we, love? Yet we’ve been empty inside for so long. It’s made us realize a nice house in a nice neighborhood is really just bricks and mortar without a soul.”

Layla’s mum sniffled. “Without the love of a family, everything else is just irrelevant stuff.” She looked at Layla. “Honestly, without you in our lives, I don’t know what we would have done.”

Layla’s dad stepped toward her mom and drew her into his arms, their grief as tangible as their togetherness. That her dad wasn’t drinking or sleeping around, and her mom dancing for him at the club, was mind-blowing.

Then her mom lifted tear-drenched eyes Layla’s way, and said thickly, “There’s only one more thing that could better our lives now.”

Layla blinked, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach to ask, “What’s that?”

“Grandchildren!” her mom and dad chorused.

Epilogue

Layla walked slowly and steadily across the sand toward the gorgeous, suited man waiting for her. Galan. The love of her life and her soon-to-be husband. He took her breath away, his dark eyes shining with adoration and tenderness, and strands of his even darker, styled hair lifting in the sea breeze.

Her throat thickened at seeing the sudden dampness in his eyes, the love for her that all their family and friends would see.

She’d worn her hair down, with a garland of white flowers and shells worn in place of a tiara. She’d also kept her stunning white gown minimalistic for the beach wedding, and the sun kissed her bared skin near her spaghetti straps and V-neck bodice. Even her feet and legs were bare beneath the knee-high hem, with its train just barely scraping the sand behind her.

She didn’t need layers of wedding gown to hide behind. She wanted Galan, along with her family and friends to see her. She was safe and no longer made vulnerable by her unguarded love.

Her dainty bouquet of white flowers quivered in her hands.

That Galan was no longer a ladies man with commitment issues, and was fully devoted to her, to their marriage, warmed her far more than the sun.

Her vision blurred as love overcame her, and she was only distantly aware of the shapes of their family and friends sitting in the seats either side of the sandy, petal-strewn path.

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