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My phone vibrates in my pocket. Yes! A distraction. But when my watch tells me it’s Topher calling, my heart sinks. I pull my mobile from my trousers and stare at the screen. “Sorry, ladies, I need to take this.” Turning toward the front door, where I can station myself just outside for privacy’s sake and still stay between Chloe and any potential intruders, I start walking as the hot potato keeps buzzing in my hand.
“Is it Topher?” Chloe calls from behind me.
“Yes.”
“Tell him I say h—” The jangling bell over the door drowns out the rest of Chloe’s words as I step outside onto Main Street. It’s not as crowded this week as last, a welcome relief that means we were able to secure enough rooms at The Purple Seashell for the coming weekend.
Finally, just as the phone hits the last vibration before rolling over to voicemail, I answer. “Hello, mate.”
“Sorry it took me so long to call, old chap,” Topher says. The wheels of his office chair squeak out a hello. “Been in back-to-back meetings all day long. This future king stuff is for the birds.”
“Ever wish we could go back to the good old armed forces days?” I know I do. Back then, we were just friends, didn’t have the extra complication of his father employing me. And even though we were mostly stationed in and around Kentonia, at least we were largely on duty outside.
Topher chuckles. “I much preferred the uni days, myself.”
Ah, the endless studying, the classes, the books. “You would.”
“So.” Another squeak. “How are things going there?”
I lean against the front window of Something Blue, where there’s a wedding dress hanging from a display. Despite what little I know about fashion, it seems the sort of dress Chloe might like. Strapless, shimmery, with flowing material that would hit her curves in all the right spots.
Am I really going there? Imagining her in a gown? Dare I picture myself as the groom waiting for her at the end of the aisle?
It seems too good to be true.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, no, it’s good. Plans are well underway for the wedding. A few obstacles, but nothing your sister can’t handle.” Can he hear the blamed adoration in my voice? Best tone it down. “How are you feeling?”
Topher sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his forehead. “Tired, mate. Just … tired. But looking forward to seeing everyone.” He pauses. “To marrying Lauren. Finally.”
“It has seemed a rather long time coming, hasn’t it?”
“Endless.” A pen rat-a-tats in the background, likely against his desk. “Look, you know Chloe almost better than anyone.”
Where’s he going with this? Does he suspect what’s been going on between us? “I do.”
“Do you thinkshe’sready for … marriage?”
My gaze scoots past the wedding dress in the window, finds her inside with her friends. And it strikes me—what if marriage isn’t what she wants? What if going back to Kentonia isn’t even what she wants? She said something the other night about buying this wedding shop, about loving how normal she felt here. I know it’s what she is planning to do, but what if she’s really meant to stay here?
There’s so much we haven’t talked about, because … well, even though it’s also felt like a long time coming, this thing between us is still new. Shouldn’t I know whatshewants before I talk to Topher and bring a whole other host of complications into the newness of this relationship?
“I think she’s mature enough to get married, for sure,” I say cautiously. “But whether that’s what she wants, I don’t know. Why?”
“Father has someone he wants her to meet. A local dignitary’s son. He’s wealthy, intelligent, and from what I can tell, a true gent. He’s got a solid reputation, the people love him, and he’d bring great connections with a few other countries nearby, as he has family in high positions there as well.”
I slump against the wedding shop’s window. It’s cold against my arm. “Wow. He sounds …” Perfect. He sounds perfect for her. His reputation wouldn’t mar hers. Sounds like it would bolster it. Unlike—
Shaking off the jealousy Topher’s revelation has wrought, I straighten. No. I’m not going to give in to the doubts again. Chloe’s chosen me, and so far, there’s no actual evidence that my family’s reputation might harm her.
Besides, whoever Chloe’s with, I wantherto decide, not her family. This is her life, and I want her to feel complete freedom to choose it.
Still, maybe it’s not the worst idea to give her time—to present her with all of her options—before we go announcing our relationship to the world.
Or to her brother.
“I don’t know, mate,” I say, evening my tone. “An arranged marriage? Really?”
“No, not really. It’d just be an introduction. She wouldn’t be forced into anything.” He pauses. “This guy just seems really perfect for her, if she’ll only give him a chance.”
