Page 50 of The Wrong Groom

“You look comfortable,” he says.

“Trying to be,” I answer with a small smile, feeling a little sheepish. “My hair’s always a mess after the beach.”

“Are you trying to braid it?”

My face falls. “Oh, god, you couldn’t tell?”

He chuckles. “It’s not that bad, don’t panic.” He pauses, his voice a bit hesitant as he adds, “You know, I could probably braid it for you, if you want. I’ve had a lot of practice doing Peyton’s hair.”

I blink at him, taken aback. I guess it’s not that surprising that he knows how to do hair. He’s a single father with a daughter. Still, the thought of a high-powered corporate executive doing a French braid seems a little surreal.

“Sure,” I say cautiously. “Just be warned, it tangles pretty easily.”

“No worries. Peyton has curls.” With that, he gets up and moves to the couch to sit beside me. I turn away from him, offering him access to my hair.

“I guess I should’ve known,” I say. “You’ve had to do a lot of this, huh?”

He gives a small shrug, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. “Oh, yeah. Ponytails, braids, buns. It’s not that difficult once you get the hang of it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. His hands are surprisingly gentle as they untangle my hair, undoing the mess I made and teasing out the residual knots left from the ocean. It takes him a while to figure out one knot in particular, right at the nape of my neck.

“God,” I say, my face burning. “Sorry. You don’t have to⁠—”

“It’s fine.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Beach hair is a whole other animal. Besides, it’s the least I can do after you spent the whole day with us.”

“It was my pleasure.” I wish I could get rid of my stilted, overly-cordial tone, but I’m not sure how else to respond. It’s strange to be in this position of pseudo-intimacy—Gabriel’s hands entwined in my hair, his body close to mine on the couch, his ring on my finger—and still be so businesslike.

“I try to get Peyton out of the house on the weekends,” he says. “I work so much during the week that I don’t get to see her enough. So when Saturday rolls around, she gets all twelve hours, eight to eight.”

I smile, even though he can’t see my face. “I like that.”

He shifts slightly, and his fingers go still for a moment, like he’s considering something. Then he says, “You know, the way you told Peyton about your stutter…” He trails off.

I swallow, suddenly nervous. “Oh. I hope I didn’t overstep or anything like that. I just⁠—”

“No,” he says. “I wanted to thank you. I think that meant a lot to Peyton.” He starts on the braid, weaving my hair together carefully.

I shrug one shoulder, doing my best not to disturb his work. “It’s just what I would’ve wanted someone to say to me when I was that age.”

He breathes out, a long, low sigh that sends a rush of warm air over my back. My skin prickles, and I bite my lip, trying to ignore the sudden wave of awareness that washes over me.

“I’m guessing no one ever did tell you that,” he mutters. There’s something dark in his voice that almost makes me shiver.

I shrug again, although this time, the gesture is forced. I don’t want to seem pathetic to him. The thoughts I had on the beach about my parents’ indifference rush back to me, and I push them down, burying them with effort. I’m not going to be that pitiful person who whines about how their parents didn’t love them.

Instead, I change the subject. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About me finding some sort of passion project.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might have an idea. It started to come to me the other day, when we were talking about luxury, and how you should just wear whatever makes you feel good—you remember?”

“Of course,” he says. “What’s your idea?”

“I want to put together some sort of charity project,” I tell him. “Something about accessibility in fashion. ‘Fashion for all.’ That sort of thing.”

“That sounds like an amazing idea.”

I can feel a flush creeping into my cheeks. “I mean, I don’t know what it’ll look like yet, obviously. Um. Maybe a clothing line, or something like that. I’m going to start small, just sketching ideas.”