Martin’s black tuxedo looked damn fine on him. Which it should, given the amount of money Alfred had no doubt spent to purchase and custom-tailor it overnight.
Because of Martin’s eagerness to wear a well-fitted tux to prom, he hadn’t even tried to resist Annette’s Decrepit Hunch of Doom, not to mention Alfred’s repeated demands for his nonexistent cane. Her former in-laws had been delighted by his acquiescence, bordering on smug.
Eventually, Rose figured Martin would get quite a few uses out of that tux. Her man wouldn’t prefer a casual wedding. Instead, he’d want the world to witness their formal commitment to one another, and he’d dress accordingly. Besides, all the future proms they’d chaperone together should bring the cost-per-wear down a notch, from Heart Attack to merely Eye-Popping.
After prom ended, Martin and Rose were meeting the older couple—at Rose’s invitation—at Milano for a late dinner. The bill there would also no doubt be Eye-Popping, and Martin would insist on paying for himself and probably for her too, so Alfred and Annette’s smugness was doomed to be short-lived.
But before then, Rose fully intended to make Martin’s first prom date amazing.
For the moment, she was sharing him with another, younger woman. Bea had dragged her father out on the floor for a slow song. And as he carefully held his daughter for their dance, her right hand clasped in his left, he was quite simply the most handsome man Rose had ever witnessed. Because of his ass in those tuxedo pants, sure, but also because of the expression on his face as he regarded Bea.
Soft. Loving. Proud. Grief-stricken.
His girl was leaving in less than three months. But at least she was giving him this moment to cherish first.
Rose wasn’t quite certain whether he’d realized his daughter’s intent yet.
Bea was claiming him in public, showing how proud she was to be his daughter, and she was doing it in front of her friends and teachers and everyone else. So now he had two women in his life who loved him like he deserved.
It was enough to make an Ice Queen melt.
Especially since Bea was wearing that beautiful washed-silk dress from her shopping trip with Rose and Annette, its jet beads reflecting the light from the mirror ball overhead. Her back was straight, her pride evident in that tipped chin.
Annette was going to be a formidable grandmother to that girl.
Rose’s mother would have been the same.
She wished to God her mom could have lived to see all this. To be proud of how Rose had taken Margie’s legacy of hard work and pride and used it to find a profession she loved. A man she loved. A family who loved her as much as she did them.
She had a family again. Her. Brandi Rose Owens.
Her mother wouldn’t have wanted Rose to be alone. Had never wanted Rose to be alone, even when she’d been forced from her daughter’s side by work or death.
Her mom wasn’t around the corner or in the kitchen, just out of sight. But Rose didn’t need a high fever and hallucinations to talk to her.
Thank you, she silently told her mother.Thank you for working so hard. For loving me so hard for as long as you could.
“Ms. Owens?” A tentative voice interrupted Rose’s reverie. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” she automatically responded. Then she blinked and truly saw the couple in front of her. “Oh, how lovely you both are.”
Sam, one of her favorite students from Martin’s classes this year, stood by their date. A young woman named Carla, if Rose remembered correctly.
Their dresses shone in the light, each perfectly suited to its wearer. Sam’s flattered the slim lines of their body, while Carla’s emphasized the nip of her waist and flare of her hip. The two were holding hands, and Sam looked as happy as Rose had ever seen them.
After introducing herself, Carla headed for the restroom, and Sam looked up at Rose.
“When I saw your promposal on YouTube, I finally got up the nerve to ask her. Finding dresses at the last minute was a b—” Sam paused. “I mean, a pain.”
Wait. Hadn’t she seen Carla in each of the school’s major drama club productions that year?
“Is she the reason you stayed late at school all the time? Because you wanted to see her after play rehearsals ended?” At Sam’s nod, Rose leaned down to admire their corsage. “Mr. Krause and I were a little worried about that.”
Sam’s brow wrinkled. “Why?”
“Not every kid has supportive parents.” Rose kept her tone gentle. “And Mr. Krause wasn’t able to get in touch with your father. You also seemed unhappy a lot of the time.”
Understanding dawned on Sam’s face. “My dad is great, but he works two jobs and doesn’t check his voicemail much.” They shrugged. “Since I was doing fine in school, I told him not to worry about contacting teachers.”
