Page 100 of The Wrong Groom

He huffs a breath, shrugging one shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man. We’ll get to it tomorrow.” With that, he leaves, closing the door behind himself.

I glance back at my monitor, opening up the minimized FlashUp window. The next Fashion for All video has begun playing. On screen, Alexis walks the camera through the design process on a mannequin. Her lips move silently as she has an exchange with the cameraman, then her eyes scrunch up with her laughter.

I unmute the video for a moment, playing the sound on low volume. Alexis’s laughter fills the room. I sit back, Tristan’s words echoing through my head as I close my eyes, listening to Alexis’s voice like it’s a therapeutic soundscape. Like ocean waves or a light rain. Something soothing and natural. The most beautiful sound I’ve heard in a long, long time.

Chapter 32

Alexis

I smooth my hands down the fabric of my gown, trying to still the slight tremor in my fingers. The dress itself is the least of my worries tonight. Fitted black satin, with a high slit that reveals a sliver of leg when I move. It’s breathtaking, probably the most stunning dress I’ve ever worn, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety from curling in my stomach.

Gabriel and I are attending a charity gala tonight, a dinner and reception at an art museum. Most of the well-to-do in Los Angeles will be present. It’s an annual affair. It draws everyone who’s anyone in this city. The proceeds from the gala benefit the art museum and its multiple programs for emerging artists.

It’s a great cause, one that I’m happy to support, but I still can’t help but dread the event itself. I don’t want to be afraid, but I can’t help it. Big events like this are always nerve-wracking for me. They have been ever since I was a kid.

I stare at my reflection. The woman in the mirror almost looks like she belongs at a gala. My hair is swept up into an elegant chignon, a few soft waves left loose to frame my face. The dress, of course, is stunning.

But no picture is perfect enough to distract from what will happen the second I open my mouth. My eyes drift to my own expression, and the doubt creeps in.

My stutter always gets worse at parties and other social occasions like this. Whenever I’m trying to make a good impression, conduct myself like a Beaumont daughter should, my anxiety overtakes me and renders me almost incapable of speaking.

What if I mess up tonight? What if I stutter when I’m introduced to someone important? What if I embarrass myself, or worse, embarrass Gabriel?

I take a deep breath to clear my head, trying to force the thoughts away. Tonight is different. Tonight, I actually want to go to the gala. Gabriel has already asked me if I’d prefer to stay home, jokingly offering a couple of potential excuses if I’d rather not be surrounded by a crowd, but I told him it was fine. That I was excited.

And I am.

In the past, whenever my parents took me to events like this, it was a horrible experience. They were essentially shopping me around, parading me through parties to find a marriage arrangement, and the expectations were through the roof. None of my imperfections could be tolerated. They would load the pressure on my shoulders, and become angry at the slightest mistake.

Now, I’m a new person. I’m Gabriel’s wife. I’m excited to appear in public in that role, standing at his side, proud and unapologetic.

“If you spill a glass of wine,” I whisper to my reflection, “it’s really not a big deal, and no one’s going to yell at you.”

I nod, like that will help the words settle into my brain. Then I reach for my clutch and turn toward the bedroom door.

Descending the steps into the foyer, I find Gabriel ready and waiting. He’s dressed in a sleek, perfectly tailored tuxedo. Like he’s just stepped straight from the pages of a magazine. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he looks effortlessly handsome.

He looks up as he hears the soft click of my low heels, and his steely eyes meet mine. A shiver goes through me at the look in those eyes. There’s heat in his stare. Desire. His gaze lingers on the slit in the fabric of my gown, watching my legs as I take the last few steps.

He moves forward to intercept me, taking me into his arms. Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “Hey. You look stunning, just so you know.”

“Wow!”

Peyton’s exclamation from the kitchen doorway draws our attention. She’s open-mouthed, staring at me.

“You look like a princess!” she declares. “Like, a real one. Like the ones in the movies.”

I grin, crouching down to her level. “Aw, that’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. And I’d say it takes one to know one.”

Peyton giggles, her nose scrunching up with delight. “Does that mean I’m a princess too?”

I laugh, my heart melting at her earnestness. “Sure does.”

She beams, her eyes scanning my dress again as she steps closer. “You look super pretty.”

“Thanks, Pey.” I wipe a little smudge of something off her cheek. “You guys have fun tonight, okay?”

Margaret appears in the doorway, having trailed in behind Peyton. She gives me a warm smile. “Oh, we will. I brought a few games for us to play and we’re making hot chocolate.”