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“No, you should. She would want you to.”
I don’t tell Oliver that’s exactly what his father said. I watch the emotions war on his face as he turns the box over and over in his hands before carefully setting it back inside my purse.
“Maybe he has regrets too,” I whisper.
Oliver shrugs, but the motion is stiff. He walks over and hands my phone to me, then takes the opposite seat and looks out the window. We’re beginning to move, turning toward the airstrip.
I don’t bother unlocking my phone or snapping any photos. There’s a melancholy surrounding Oliver that I’m guessing has everything to do with his parents. I’ve never appreciated my own mom and dad more than I do right now. They were both at my wedding. Both supportive, even knowing how our relationship began. Oliver didn’t have that today. Hasn’t had it for a long time, if ever.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
I’m relieved to see him smile, before glancing toward me. “It has impressive architecture,” he tells me.
I roll my eyes, then watch out the window as the plane takes off. Once we’ve leveled out, I stand. “I’m going to change.”
The only other time I’ve been on the jet was to accompany Oliver on a work trip to Chicago. Asher and another Kensington Consolidated employee, Scott, were with us, and it was a short flight. I looked in the back bedroom but didn’t spend any time in here.
The rear of the plane contains a king-sized bed, centered with windows on either side and decorated with cream and gold accents. If not for the occasional swoop in my stomach and the cloud cover through the windows, I’d have no idea this bedroom is airborne.
I struggle with the back of my wedding dress for about thirty seconds before calling Oliver in for help. He’ll probably grumble about it, but I don’t want to risk ripping the fabric.
A few seconds later, I hear him walk in the bedroom.
“What do you have against dresses with zippers?” he asks, his hands finding the buttons holding the back of my dress together.
“I didn’t design the dress. Ask Scarlett.”
I don’t tell him, but it took Rosie, Rachel, and April a half hour to get me into this dress. I should have had them help me out of it too, but I liked the idea of leaving in my wedding dress. I wasn’t opposed to having sex in it either, but that’s looking unlikely.
Oliver’s silent, as my dress loosens bit by bit.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
His hands stop moving, and then a few seconds later I’m spun around to face him. He looks torn between bewilderment and incredulity. “Of courseI am. It’s our wedding day.”
“You’ve barely said anything since we left the reception.”
He exhales. “I’m sorry, Han. My dad decided to hand me the company today. He’s retiring next month, and it caught me off guard.”
I gape at him, stunned. “You’re going to be CEOnext month?”
Oliver nods. “Yeah. I knew it was coming. But I didn’t think it would be this soon.”
“Wow. Congratulations. That’s…wow.”
I knew it was coming too. But it’s still a big moment. A big moment Oliver has spent years—decades—working toward.
He smiles, then pulls me closer. “I’m happy, Hannah. So fucking happy. Seeing my dad just… I wish my mom could have been there today. Wish things were different with him. It’s just harder, some days.”
I slide a hand beneath his tuxedo jacket, until I find the steady thump of his heart. “You have me,” I whisper. “You’ll always have me.”
He kisses me, and it’s so intense, so consuming, that I don’t even realize he’s moving me toward the bed until I’m falling onto the mattress.
Awareness crackles between us like electricity as we continue kissing. I grew accustomed to the idea of being married to Oliver a while ago. But this feels different—me in a wedding dress and him in a tux. It feels real and permanent and lasting, all of those forever ideals marriage is meant to represent.
I wriggle against the comforter, the fabric of my dress forming its own blanket around me. “Can you please get me out of this?”
Oliver grins. “I only made it through ten buttons.”
