Page 59 of Married to Lies

In the next few hours, we went through every detail possible, some I’d never even considered. Although Quentin wanted to make me happy, he didn’t just sit back and put all the weight of the decisions on my shoulders. He gave his opinion, helped pick when I had no preference, and even showed his thoughtfulness by making sure there were vegan meal options for his friend Aaric.

As his bride-to-be, I was relieved that he kept showing me that he was a kind, caring man. As a business owner, I automatically guessed the cost of it all. Last-minute cake tasting. Rush printing for hand-delivered invitations. Centerpieces with fresh sunflowers, imported from another country because they were out of season here.

But that turned out to be the least of the expenses.

When we finished going through the details, Elsie said, “The designer is in the back for you, Quentin.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I looked over to him. “Designer?”

Gripping my hand, he said, “Come with me.”

We walked down the hall, past offices and meeting rooms, until we reached two heavy metal doors. He tugged one open and held it for me. I stepped through the doorway, staring at the warehouse-style room. Colorful bolts of fabric on giant rolling carts were on one side. Tables with sewing machines stood on the other. Several employees worked with fabric on half a dozen mannequins and sizing busts.

But then my eyes bugged out as I saw the person walking toward us, dressed in all black with their signature pink measuring tape hung around their neck. “Is that Ambrosia?” I hissed, taking them in. A waist apron stuffed with supplies sat low on their broad hips, and their natural, coily hair was cut short to their head, bleached white in contrast to their light brown skin.

Quentin said to them, “Thanks for joining us, Ambrosia.”

They cracked a smile, showing diamond-studded canines. “It’s nice to meet you. Let’s get started with your measurements to fit your wedding dress and design the rest of the line.”

I gaped from her to Quentin. “Wedding dress? Rest of the line?” I couldn’t be hearing what I thought I was hearing. My favorite plus-size fashion designer was working on my wedding dress?

Quentin wore one of those rare, genuine smiles as he squeezed my hand. “You deserve a dress that fits the way you want and a closet full of clothes designed just for you. I saw your post about Ambrosia. Luckily, they were available for the project.”

“But...” I murmured. “The cost.” A wedding dress, let alone an entire line of clothes, had to be a fortune, even to someone as wealthy as Quentin.

Ambrosia excused themselves to talk with a worker in the room while Quentin responded. “My money will look better on your beautiful body than in my bank account.”

My lips twitched into a disbelieving smile.

“Besides, plus-size fashion is a good investment.” He tugged at the lapels of his shirt. “Perhaps they’ll design a line for men next.”

“Quentin... I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you like it,” he said, and I noted a little vulnerability in his voice.

I lifted to my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his cheek. It felt warm, slightly scratchy under my lips with the promise of his five o’clock shadow. “Thank you,” I breathed in his ear.

His arm curled around my waist, palm splayed at the low of my back, making heat bloom up my spine. In a husky voice, he uttered, “Anything for my future wife.”

Ambrosia cleared their throat. “Sorry, but we have a lot of work to do.”

“Okay,” Quentin rumbled. He turned to me, saying, “I’m meeting my friends to tell them about us. You ready for this?”

His words snapped me back to reality. In less than a week, I’d be married in a dream wedding dress. I’d have a chance to be with Quentin. And finally, my company would be safe.

No matter how crazy it sounded, I said, “I’m ready.”

27 Quentin

Aaric: Are you still coming?

Quentin: I’m on my way.

Looking up to the front seat, I asked Divian, “How far are we from The Greenhouse?” The vegan restaurant was the perfect place to meet with my co-founders and tell them everything that had happened between Rei and me. It had food options everyone could enjoy, even though we liked to pick on Aaric for liking wheatgrass shots. Even better, the noise of patrons would cover up our conversation so we could have some privacy.

“We’re about five minutes away. Traffic’s moving slow today,” Divian answered. The difference in him when Rei was in the car versus when it was just me was striking. Rei brought out the best in everyone, I thought, looking at my phone but thinking of the easy way she got to know Divi while I struggled after months of knowing him.

In my life, everything had a role. He focused on the road. I focused on work. But with Rei, everything blended together like drops of paint smeared on a canvas while I sat in my own world, drawn in lines with stark, permanent ink.