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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“The people of Summitville want to thank you and Whitcomb Enterprises for your generosity, Jamie. And we want to apologize, unfortunately not for all but for some of us, for the initial mistrust we laid at your feet.”
“I’m just glad we’re moving beyond the past, Garrett,” Jamie said into the phone. “And that we’re working on solutions to heal the town.” He hoped the healing would apply to both the land surrounding the old automotive factory and some of the lingering grief over Sierra’s death and any anger directed at Jamie because of it.
But Jamie had finally accepted he could only do so much, and that the speed and degree of one’s healing had a lot to do with the attitude of the person grieving.
As it always did, his mind found a way to divert his thoughts to Lucy. He had no doubt she still grieved her sister’s death, but was she grieving Jamie’s absence from her life? He liked to think so, given how terribly he missed her.
“We’ll see you in a few weeks,” Garrett said.
Jamie said goodbye, hung up the phone, and turned his chair so he was staring out his window. Instead of seeing the impressive cityscape, however, his mind was filled with memories of Lucy on her pink bike. Lucy petting a stingray and holding a snake. Lucy underneath him and above him, urging him to give her the release she craved…
He cursed even as his dick hardened.
It had been two weeks since he’d asked Lucy to come to him with her heart fully committed, and it still hadn’t happened. His body craved hers. But most of all, he missed just being with her, talking with her, and enjoying her sassy sense of humor.
Maybe she’d never come to him. Maybe Lucy’s prejudices and fears about his wealth and privileged background weren’t something she’d ever be able to overcome.
He didn’t want to accept that, but at what point did hope have to give way to realism?
Someone knocked on his door and he turned his chair around again. “Come in.”
It was his assistant, Annabelle. “Just bringing you your mail.”
He took the pile of envelopes. “Thanks,” Jamie said. He started to sort through the mail, but sensed Annabelle hadn’t moved away.
“I’m sorry, was there something else, Annabelle?”
“Just…um…” She hesitated, then reached out and withdrew a bright orange envelope from the middle of the pile and put it on top. “You’ll want to open this first.”
He looked down at the envelope, his eyes widening when he saw the beautiful black and fuchsia print on the front.
It was addressed to Jamison Whitcomb the Fourth.
The return sender?
Lucille Conrad, soon-to-be Mrs. Jamison Whitcomb the Fourth.
* * *
After her last conversation with Jamie, it had only taken an hour of serious contemplation for Lucy to conclude that hell, yes, she could commit herself to him and everything that came with him—for better or worse. All she’d had to do was replay the last few weeks they’d spent together and recognize his willingness, even after those horrible pictures came out and she ran away, to give her a second chance.
But she didn’t just want to tell him that. Like he said, words didn’t mean anything unless they were backed up with action. So she’d enlisted Melina and Grace to help her start planning. Thus began a whirlwind of activity. Time and again, she’d almost given in to her desperate urge to contact Jamie and beg to see him. She knew he was probably worried that she hadn’t done so yet, but she hoped that in the end, he’d think the surprise she had planned for him had been worth the wait.
The ball had started rolling as soon as Lucy had contacted the event planner recommended by Melina. Ariana Castillo had her own reality show and had become famous by taking people’s thoughts and dreams, mixing them with their personality, and turning them into the most fabulous, awe-inspiring parties anyone had ever seen. She was normally booked at least a year in advance, but Jamie’s father was somehow involved in the production of her show, so she’d happily put Lucy’s event at the top of her list.
When Lucy had called her, the voice on the other end of the line sounded too young for a woman who’d been planning high-profile parties for the last decade. When Lucy told her that, Ariana had laughed and said, “I guess the party lifestyle keeps me young. Do me a favor, Lucy. Close your eyes and tell me what you envision for this party.”
And Lucy had, starting with the fact she wanted it held not at a posh hotel but someplace old Hollywood, like a sunset ranch. Ariana had taken everything from there, checking in often with Lucy to make sure the event came out the way she wanted. They’d enlisted the talents of some of Los Angeles’s best caterers, florists, and set designers, and sent out hundreds of invitations after Brianne had helped her with the guest list.
Now, the time had come for what Lucy hoped would be one of the most talked about engagement parties L.A. had seen in decades. A reality star with the initials K.K. was even rumored to have tweeted about it.
It was less than an hour before the event began. She knew Jamie was coming because he’d sent in his RSVP. She couldn’t wait to see him and the expression on his face when he walked in. She wanted him to love it. She wanted him to still love her. And she hoped and prayed he’d see the party for what it was—her over-the-top pledge that she was committed to blending their two worlds—their two selves—to create one incredibly fun, passionate, and unique life together.
* * *
As the limo pulled into the long driveway leading to the Dandelion Ranch, Jamie stared at the invitation Lucy had sent him. Against the elegant black background, the fuchsia embossed lettering read, “Lucy and Jamie.” Then right underneath it read “Engaged” in white scroll lettering.
