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I stand and pull her up beside me. “We’ll take this one, Iris.”
“Perfect,” Iris says with a smile. “I’ll get the paperwork started, Mr. Steel.”
Iris just made a hell of a commission. Of course she’s smiling.
Ashley holds her left hand in front of her and stares. Then she looks at me, her eyes questioning.
Are you sure?
I expect the words to come out of her mouth, but they don’t.
Good.
At this moment, I’m sure. About as sure as I’ll ever be.
Her phone chimes, and she pulls it out of her purse. Her eyes light up. “It’s Mom! Hey!” she says into the phone.
I head to Iris at the cash register and complete the purchase of Ashley’s ring.
A lump forms in my stomach.
No. Can’t go there. This is what I want. This is the best thing in the world for me.
But is it the best thing for her?
Shut up! I nearly say the words aloud. Am I not entitled to happiness? She makes me happy, and damn it, I seem to make her happy.
This is win-win.
“Great news!” Ashley squeals as I shove the receipt for the ring in my pocket. “Mom just pulled in!”
“Are they staying at the Rio?”
She nods. “They’re going to check in and then meet us for coffee back at the hotel.”
“Us?”
“Of course, silly! You have to meet them sometime.”
“Right. I know.” This was all my idea, after all. Of course I need to meet her parents before we show up at the wedding chapel and announce we’re hijacking their nuptials.
She grabs my hand and pulls me out of Tiffany & Co.
“Bye, Mr. Steel,” Iris calls. “And goodbye soon-to-be Mrs. Steel!”
Ashley’s cheeks turn that lovely pink I adore. “I can’t even believe this is happening, Dale. I’m just so happy.”
I squeeze her hand. “I am too, sweetheart.”
It’s not a lie. Not by a long shot.
So why do I feel like it is?
Probably because I never allow myself to be happy. I don’t feel I deserve to be happy.
Fuck it.
I’m going to embrace happiness, just this once.
For as long as it lasts.
We take the limo back to the Rio, walk to the coffee shop where Ashley’s mother and her betrothed will meet us, and my stomach rumbles. I didn’t eat much of the breakfast we ordered, as I was nervous as all get-out about my plans.
“Hungry?” I ask Ashley.
“Are you kidding? I may never eat again. My stomach has butterflies flying through it at cosmic speed.”
I chuckle. “Cosmic speed?”
“Faster than that even. Just some OJ for me.”
“Should we wait for your mom?”
She shakes her head. “Let’s go ahead and order.”
“Good enough.” I place the order for a glass of OJ for her and coffee and a breakfast sandwich for me.
We grab a table in the corner.
No sooner do I take a bite of my sandwich when Ashley jumps out of her chair.
“Mom!” She runs to a man and woman entering the small shop.
Ashley’s mother doesn’t look much older than Ashley. Her hair is blond—same as Ashley’s—and a long braid falls over one shoulder about halfway down her chest. Her cheekbones are high, and her eyes are nearly identical to her daughter’s. Her lips are thinner but nicely shaped, and she wears jeans and a black tank top that says Vegas or Bust across the front. Her companion is tall and handsome and looks about my age.
Ashley drags her mother hand in hand to where I stand.
“Dale, this is my mom, Willow.”
Willow holds out her hand. “Dale, it’s so great to meet you! Ashley’s told me so much about you.”
Interesting. Ashley hasn’t told me a lot about her mother as a person. Only about the life they led together, and she wasn’t overly open-lipped about that. Not that I blame her. Growing up homeless and the child of a rape isn’t something I’d talk about either. God knows I never talk about my childhood.
“Nice to meet you too,” I reply, taking her hand.
“And this is Dennis James,” Ashley says.
Dennis smiles and grabs my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I grasp his hand in a firm shake. “You too. Have a seat, both of you. Ashley and I already placed our order, but what can I get for you?”
“Ashley ordered coffee?” Willow asks in mock surprise.
“Are you kidding, Mom? OJ for me. My mom’ll have black coffee, though,” Ashley says to me.
“I think I’ll live on the edge a little,” Willow says. “It’s my wedding day, after all. I’ll have a vanilla latte.”
“Dennis?” I ask.
“The same. Make mine with a double shot.”
“Got it. A scone or anything?”
“I’m good,” Willow says, as Dennis shakes his head.
I head to the counter to place the order. When I return, Ashley and her mother are talking animatedly, finishing each other’s sentences.
Dennis turns to me. “Ever feel like a fish out of water?”
Yeah, like my whole life. But he has no way of knowing that. “I’m sure they’ve missed each other.”
