“So why did Shelly think you couldn’t make it to the wedding without an escort?”
He grins. “Well, you know how little she thinks of me.”
I laugh realizing just how opposite the truth is. How much my family and friends do like James. It’s a bittersweet bite. This would be so easy, just a boy and girl liking one another, if the world were a different place.
“Shelly wanted to give you a choice.”
I stagger out of my thoughts. “What?”
He gestures to my shoulders. “You probably won’t take it, but I ended up making you a shawl. I told Shelly about it two days ago. She just wants you to see it, give you the choice to wear it.”
“You didn’t…” Now I understood Shelly’s directive, so crystal clear it sparkles. She wanted me out of my shawl and into his. A little matchmaker at work even on her freaking wedding day.
“Yours is beautiful. But do you… do you want to see… what I made for you?”
I nod, my mind mush. As he turns for a box and heaves it out from under his bed, I decide it’s best to solidify the swirl of my emotions with humor.
“I will look at it,” I say with a thick haughty accent, metallic and fancy. “But as you rightfully know, I only wear the very best, so I expect the very best.”
James turns with the box in his arms, smiling. He lays it on the table with a soft thump. “It sounds like you have a good eye. It’s probably not worthy of you, or even your criticism. But it will be an honor to hear your thoughts on how I could hone my craft.”
I wave a hand, playing into the part more than I even expected. “Yes. Yes. Show me then.”
James opens the box and gestures in a flourish of show.
The joke falls away, my pretension and haughtiness obliterated. I know his eyes are on me, but I can’t stop staring at the copper shawl sitting on purple velvet. I thought it would just be different than mine. But no, it’s… it’s the most gorgeous rendering I’ve ever seen. Instead of dragon scales or flowers, the back metal piece has been shaped into an endless skyline. And woven within that carved sky are three dragons. While they aren’t depicted as hatchlings, I know they’re ours—Zilar, Electrum, and Oria.
He turns the metalwork in the box to show off the front, both shoulders like dragon wings. It’s a design I’ve seen before, but the detail, the exquisite quality of the wings… I reach out my fingertips to brush along the polished lines.
“James,” I gasp. “I can’t. I can’t wear this.”
He’s also dropped the playfulness. “I think I got the measurements right.”
I laugh at the absurdity that he really thinks I meant the measurements.
“Shelly and Jeffrey will know at once.”
“They can know. They already know.”
True. Evident from Shelly practically shoving me out the door that she wanted this to happen, for me to choose James’s work. And my parents know as well, even if we are keeping our relationship quiet.
“They’re on our side. Or well…” he smiles. “On my side for sure.”
“They’re my friends.”
“And like I’ve told you countless times before, I’m likeable.” That boyish grin with the dimples appears, disarming me. “For everyone else, you can say you crafted the shawl yourself.”
“And who would believe that?”
“Anyone who truly knows you.”
My breath catches at the compliment.
“Can I at least see you in it?” James asks and I realize we’re only an arm’s distance away from one another.
I don’t know where it comes from, but I find the courage to close the distance and say, “You’ll have to take this off first.”
Now it’s his turn to pause, to gulp in desire.
