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HARRISON
When the women filter into the restaurant, I’m beaten down but refuse to show it.
After inspecting nearly a dozen rooms, halls, and patios, we found the perfect location for my fiancée and I to say our vows.
Thank God for that because this day will meet my exacting standards—I don’t care if it would take a lesser man months to achieve.
It will require three days because I’ve decided it will.
I stand and pull out the chair next to mine, brushing my lips across Raegan’s smooth cheek as she slides in.
“How was the venue hunting?”
“Productive. I didn’t receive any pictures of your dress.”
“Didn’t send any.” My future bride sinks into the seat like the queen she is.
I rest my arm across the back of her chair. “Don’t tell me you’re superstitious.”
“Just an advocate for delayed gratification.” Her half smile makes me want to drag her into my lap and teach her new lessons about the subject.
But like the damned romantic I’ve never once been accused of being, I can’t kick one thought from my mind.
“Did you find a dress?” I hear myself ask, and she looks away.
A new possibility occurs to me.
If the boutiques Leni called fell short of moving heaven and earth to help my bride, I’ll unleash fury on every one of them.
“Yes,” she says at last.
My tightened fists relax.
“And?” Because now I can’t stop until I have a mental picture.
“It’s white. Covers all the critical areas.”
She reaches for her water glass, drinking deeply. Her throat works as she swallows, and I trace the line of her cheek, her neck, her hair with my gaze.
I lean in and brush my lips across her ear. “I’m sure I’ve only ever complimented those particular areas.”
Her low laughter warms me.
I thread her fingers through mine under the table as we settle in for dinner with our friends.
“The day’s business is not quite complete,” I announce after the waitstaff brings drinks and takes our orders.
The Rosewood Estate fifteen minutes from the Strip has a room that would accommodate a thousand, but we recommend their outdoor patio with space for a hundred.
It’s been years since I was in a board meeting seeking another’s approval, but that’s how it feels as we present our selection to the three discerning women.
The women lean in as I describe it, with my brother and Tyler adding commentary whenever they think I’ve left out a key detail.
Raegan leans close as I show her photos on my phone. “It’s beautiful, but isn’t that overkill? We only have a couple of days. We can do it at a chapel. They’re made for quick weddings.”
“No, we can’t,” I say firmly. “And there’s no such thing as overkill, love.”
Not for her. Not for us.
