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Rory
“Whydon’tyouwearthe blue one I like instead? It looks much better on you.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I know Brendan is trying to be helpful, but it’s lunch, not some kind of royal ball. My reflection stares back at me, utterly bored. I’m not going to fight him on the dress because I don’t actually care enough. Getting through a meal with both sets of our parents as we discuss our wedding for the millionth day in a row will be enough of a battle.
The pale pink dress I’m wearing comes off and goes into a pile in the corner of my closet. It’s the graveyard of things that Brendan has made comments about not liking and, therefore, will be donated. I push hangers aside until the blue sundress is found, and I slip it on, making sure there aren’t any wrinkles that will offend my mother. An annoyed huff escapes me as I inspect myself in the mirror. I hate that Brendan is right about this one looking better.
I throw on a pair of nude sandals and grab my purse before meeting my fiancé downstairs. My annoyance is still strong because he and I fought last night about cake flavors. I had to remind myself that weddings make people crazy, and the man I fell in love with is still inside him somewhere, probably trying to punch through layers of fondant to get out.
When I reach the front door, Brendan looks up from his phone and smiles. “You look absolutely gorgeous as always, Princess.”
He looks handsome in his gray dress pants and white button-up. His blond hair is darker than mine and is neatly trimmed on all sides. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, placing a gentle kiss on my lips that quickly turns heated. This is the Brendan I know and miss. He still makes appearances, but I’m hoping when we’re married and he’s more settled at work, things will go back to the way they used to be. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but maybe it’s the natural order of things to lose that sizzle after some time.
One of his hands travels to my ass and gives it a squeeze. As soon as I have the thought that I want him to throw me against the door and fuck me, he releases me. The noise of frustration that lets loose makes him smile, which annoys me further.
“We can’t be late. We have a lot to discuss, and your father and I have some business dealings to handle after we eat, so I’ll probably be home late.”
“Again? I thought we could order in for dinner and watch movies with a floor picnic like we used to. We haven’t spent any real time together in forever.”
He pulls me out the door toward the car. “We’ll do it next weekend. You know how crazy things have been for me, but I’m doing all of this for us and our future. You know that.”
“Right. Of course.” I buckle myself in and pull my phone out for the drive.
Brendan turns the radio to some kind of finance podcast, and I immediately zone out. Scrolling through social media isn’t much more entertaining, but I see that my best friend, Flora, posted some pictures of our girl’s night from last weekend. She called it a “pre-bachelorette bash,” but it was just the two of us getting drunk, doing karaoke terribly, then talking to birds and squirrels while we ate pizza on a park bench at two in the morning. It was a blast. I love the post and comment that I can’t wait for the real deal soon. After a mindless scroll through TikTok, we’ve arrived.
Pulling up to the country club always makes me roll my eyes. It’s so gaudy and pretentious with massive pillars, gold lion statues, and the brightest flowers arranged everywhere. I wish we could sit down for a burger and chocolate shake, but I know I’ll be forcing down expensive food that has weird textures and will make me want to vomit. When Brendan and I first started dating, he hated coming here more than I did. If we were forced to be here, we’d always ditch out early and grab chili cheese fries or ice cream, then sit outside somewhere, talking about how we’d never turn into our parents.
“Hey, what if we take a trip next weekend instead? We could go up to the lake, cook on the grill, make s’mores. You could get me liquored up and take advantage of me on the boat. What do you think?” I tuck into his side and rub my hand across his chest.
“That sounds like an amazing idea. Aren’t you worried about leaving with the wedding being so close though?” With a hand on my lower back, he guides me through the club to the restaurant within.
“Not really. It would actually be really nice to get away and not have to think about it for a couple of days and just relax.” I shrug, and he nods along.
“Okay. Let’s do it, then. Anything for my princess.” He leans down and softly kisses me, stirring up some of those dormant butterflies. A weekend away is exactly what we need.
“Rory! Brendan! You two just get more gorgeous every time I see you.” Brendan’s mother, Catherine Prince, always makes a fuss. She’s sweet, but it can be a bit much.
His father, Lewis, shakes hands with his son and offers me a warm smile. “Rory, always a pleasure.”
“You too, Mr. Prince.”
“Oh, stop with the formalities already. You’re going to be my daughter next month.
Please, call me Lewis.”
“Right, sorry.” I take my seat and smile at my parents that are standing to greet Brendan.
We see each other twice a week, and every time, it’s like we haven’t been around each other in months. I’m glad my parents and my fiancé get along, but sometimes, I feel like I could get up and walk away, and they wouldn’t even notice. Except for right now.
“Rory, darling, don’t slouch.” My mother’s pinched mouth and sigh draw my attention until I see movement behind her.
The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen is sitting down a few tables away. His brown hair is short on the sides with enough on top to flop into his eyes. Speaking of which, they are as bright blue as everyone claims mine are. Our gazes lock, and my entire body heats in embarrassment. I look away and focus on the talk about centerpieces, but I can’t shake the feeling that this stranger is still staring at me. Which makes sense because every time I try to covertly catch a glimpse, his eyes are locked on me.
“Princess?” Brendan has clearly been trying to get my attention, and the man a few tables over smirks and looks away for the first time since he sat down.
“I’m sorry, what?” I’m just having an off day because of our stupid fight last night. I need to clear my head and focus.
“Your father wants to golf with some associates next Friday. We can go up to the lake on Saturday and spend the night, right?” Everyone looks at me expectantly.
