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“Do you have an appointment scheduled?”
“We don’t.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, we work on appointments only. You’re welcome to book one via phone or our booking system on the website.”
“Could you make an exception, just this once?”
“That isn’t something we do. I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t giving in, and I had to force a smile to stay on my face, hiding the deflating of my soul because I all of a sudden wanted a pretty dress to wear—probably beneath my hoodie, but still. “It’s okay, Remi.” I should have stopped there because I was sure he heard the hurt in my voice. “A dress isn’t important.”
There was no guarantee I’d even feel nice in one of those pretty gowns, hoodie or not.
Remi’s gaze softened, seeing right through me to all the animosity and frayed confidence.
Somehow, despite my antics in the shower a few days ago, I was back to where I started.
He didn’t want to marry me while I wore the hoodie I clutched up to my chin. I could see that much. The dress was important—to us both.
“I just want to make my girl happy.” His eyes stayed on me.
“I understand that,” said the voice on the intercom, “but—”
“My name is Remington Cole, and I know it’s short notice, but I’ve always been a little impulsive.” He took a breath. “I don’t care what it costs. I’ll double the value of whatever we spend. You can times it by ten, for all I care. I just want her to have the day she deserves.”
“Remi...” you don’t have to do that.
Silence fell between them, causing Remi to drift back, straightening to his full height. The defeat on his face almost took me to my knees, willing to do anything to make him smile again.
His eyes apologized to me, his mouth about to catch up and do the same when...
“Mr. Cole! We have some free time this morning. I’ll be right there to let you in!”
I’d tried on around seven dresses, all different styles, none of them flattering to my body.
“Try the one from the window.”
I side-eyed Remi, sitting on a velvet chair with his foot over one knee and looking way more relaxed than I felt, and shook my head.
“Which did you like?” Juliet, our bridal assistant, would listen to Remington Cole over me because, somehow, that name held power.
“From outside looking in, she liked the one on the far left. The pale pink one.”
“Oh, I love that one! It will look great on you. Let’s try it on!” Juliet disappeared, leaving me to stand on a pedestal in the center of the room, the mirrors around me reminding me why I shouldn’t be here.
“I quite like this one, even though it isn’t pink.” Remi appeared in my view behind me, pushing my hair to one side. A finger weaved under the spaghetti strap of the ivory dress and pulled it down. “But it’s not the one.”
His finger strayed down the cowl neck. “Do you want to know a secret, my terror-filled Little Dream.”
Great, he could see all my feelings written on my face.
My eyes found his in the mirror. I nodded slowly, leaning into his breath on my neck, the caramel latte aroma wrapping around me, interfering with the room’s rose-petal scent.
“For the first time in forever, I feel scared, too.”
“Why?” I stuttered as more fingers skated over my larger breast. “Because you’re marrying me?”
“Because one day you might realize this isn’t—I’m not—what you want. And that is not an option for me.”
