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30
Beau
The ladies had been upstairs forever. Nearly the second Gigi got home, Mom’s hair stylist arrived, too. Even though Gigi maintained she could do her own hair, Mom and my sister—and the hair stylist—refused to let her.
So, G quickly jumped into the shower without so much as a kiss for me.
When she’d come out wrapped only in a fluffy, white, towel—I might have grabbed her and kissed those plump lips of hers. Her towel might also have somehow come undone.
My sister might have chosen that exact moment to bang on the door and yell, “Mom said she heard the water go off and Gigi needs to be upstairs, now!”
Gigi might have started laughing—a very, sexy, wet, naked, Gigi—and I might have whispered to her, “I love my family, but they’re a bunch of cockblockers.”
I had to go pick up my tux and grab a haircut anyway. Still, I would have made time for a quick make out session with Gigi.
Now, I was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, after being told I was not under any circumstances allowed up there. First, my mom came down in a long, blue gown and a big smile on her face. “Ah, Beauregard, you look so handsome,” she said as she walked up to me and kissed my cheek. “Wait until you see your date.” She winked at me.
Next, my sister hurried downstairs, also in a long gown. Hers was black and she was currently on the phone with their babysitter. “No, she does not need chocolate milk before bed, no matter what she tries to tell you. Put her on the phone, please. Let me talk to that little stinker,” she said before holding the phone away from her to hug me. She lifted up onto her toes, she whispered, “You might want to sit down for this, big brother. Your girl looks amazing.”
She grinned at me before hurrying over to stand beside her husband.
A minute later, I saw a flash of silver, then the most beautiful girl in the world began walking down the stairs. Good Lord. Élise was right. I should have sat down.
Gigi was simply—breathtaking. Her long, silvery gray gown caught the light each time she took a step. She moved with such grace—just like she did on the ice. A sparkling necklace drew my attention to G’s long, beautiful neck that was accented further with the way her hair was pinned up.
“Lock that shit down, Brother,” Lucien whispered from behind me. Normally I would have turned around and slugged him in the arm. That would have forced me to stop looking at Gigi.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, I stepped forward, holding onto her arm while I leaned in so only she could hear. “You’re absolutely stunning, Geneviève,” I said, brushing my lips against her cheek.
“This old thing?” she said, looking down at her dress.
I laughed for a moment until I saw the earrings she was wearing. A warmth invaded me, making my heart beat faster. She was wearing the earrings. Ever since I was I kid, Mom had told me those earrings were reserved for the woman I’d marry.
Mom was nothing if not subtle.
“Just found it lying around?” I asked, pulling her close to me.
“Mm hmm, it’s been in the back of my closet for years.”
“Your thriftiness is admirable.”
“All right, lovebirds, time to go,” my sister said, poking me in the back.
Reluctantly, I grabbed Gigi’s hand and lead her out the door to our awaiting limo—instead of downstairs to my awaiting bed.
“What dowe do when they announce our names?” Gigi asked me and before I could answer, Élise did it for me.
“They’ll call your names. Take a few steps out and pose for a few of the photographers. Oh, and your arms go like this,” she said, arranging G’s hand around my arm.
Over the speakers, the Master of Ceremonies announced my sister and her husband. After they stepped past the curtain, we moved up.
“You should have told me where to put my hands.”
“I will—later.”
“Very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I mean now. Why didn’t you show me what to do?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know.”
