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“Thanks for coming with me.” I study her face for any kind of emotion. Nothing. All I see is a brick wall. She’s completely closed herself off.
That’s because you did it to her first.
As much as the truth hurts, it’s for the best. There’s no need to further complicate things. Even if that’s true, there are so many things I want to ask. So many things I want to say. But I feel like it’s too late, like I’m switching pitchers at the bottom of the ninth when I’m already down ten to nothing. Still, I should at least talk to her like a human being, right?
I clear my throat. “You look really nice.”
“Thank you,” she says stiffly. “Ready to go?”
I nod and help her into my car. Neither of us speaks the twenty minutes to the wedding venue. The silence is stifling. We should talk about something. Anything. Break the ice. We can’t walk in looking indifferent. Or worse, like we despise each other. People—especially Maya—may notice.
While stopped at a red light, I look her way. She stares out the window, watching the city pass. She shifts, crossing her legs to face the passenger door as if she can’t get far enough away from me. Is she wanting these last hours with me over that badly? Or is there any chance she’s having second thoughts, too?
I suddenly realize I don’t recognize this outfit she has on. I would have remembered if this was hanging in either her or Kami’s closets.
“Is your dress new?” I ask.
She looks down at herself. “Yeah. I found it and the shoes at a secondhand designer store online and thought they were cute. Still expensive, but worth it and in my price range.”
I understand the dress. What I don’t understand, however, is why she’d buy her own pair of used heels when I already gifted her brand-new, designer stilettos that would have matched every bit as well. I can’t think of a logical reason why she would choose secondhand shoes over untouched Manolos, but I guess it doesn’t matter.
“It suits you,” I say finally.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I grapple for something else to add to the conversation, but before I find a topic, I’m pulling into the parking lot and stopping in the first available spot. We walk the short trek to the venue’s entrance. Most everyone is already inside, I suppose, because I don’t see many people milling around out here, except a few taking last-minute drags on their cigarettes. Not surprising since the ceremony starts in ten minutes.
Suddenly, Kiera stops short of the door. “Before we go in, I want to clear the air about something.”
She wants to talk? Thank god. I’m all for that. Whatever she wants to say, I want to hear. “Please.”
Or is she backing out? Is she going to tell me I was an ass and that she can’t spend an evening with me? I would hardly blame her if she did.
“Those shoes you sent were beautiful. Stunning. I didn’t send them back as an insult. I just couldn’t accept them.”
I frown. “Was it because they didn’t fit?”
“I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t even try them on.”
So her reason for sending them back was personal. On the one hand, I appreciate her returning the shoes when most women would have kept them. On the other hand, even if she didn’t return them as an insult, it hurt. But I don’t want her to feel guilty for doing what she felt she had to.
“Then what made you feel like you had to send them back?”
“Growing up, I saw that the harder I worked and saved, the more buying things for myself felt like a reward. I felt proud when I could afford things for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I treasure heartfelt gifts, and I thank you for thinking of me. But I don’t want you to think you owe me anything for tonight. You’ll do great with Maya. I’m sure of it.”
Her honesty melts me. Amber would have hoarded the shoes and asked what other colors they came in. Kiera is nothing like my ex. Jake was right about that. Now that I understand her better, I respect Kiera’s desire to earn things she wants for herself.
“Thank you for explaining. I only sent them to apologize for my behavior.”
She nods. “I know. But you didn’t have to buy me anything. All I wanted was for you to talk to me.”
And I didn’t.
Kiera heads for the front door. Cursing under my breath, I rush to catch up and pull it open for her. Together, we enter.
Inside, the venue is overwhelmingly pink—every wall, every surface. From the floral arrangements to the arch soaring above the altar to the runner blanketing the aisle. Other than the dark pews, there is no other color in sight.
