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“Two and a half,” she corrects me.
“Right.”
It’s not as though I’m unaware of the time since I feel as though there’s a ticking time bomb strapped to my back at the moment.
With her attention on her phone, she waves a hand in my direction. “See you later.”
I don’t offer a response because I’m already sprinting toward the elevator.
I can fix everything with a press of a button, sending a nice tidy sum to someone who snapped a picture of Gina and me exchanging vows in Vegas, but I owe it to my wife to tell her what’s going on before I bury that picture forever.
For better or worsejust got a hell of a lot more real.
CHAPTERFIFTY-FIVE
Gina
I stareat myself in the full-length mirror in front of me.
“If you ever get married, that’s the dress for you,” Sophia Wolf says. “Gina, you look beautiful.”
I do.
I see it.
When I arrived just over three hours ago, Sophia screamed in delight when she saw the state of my hair.
It was still naturally wavy, partially contained by the loose ponytail I had it in.
She immediately insisted that the hair stylist she hired for the shoot not touch a strand of my hair. The woman almost complied. She ran her fingers through it and added a little spritz of some papaya-scented product that she promised would chase any frizz away.
I love the way it looks almost as much as I love my makeup.
The man tasked with that promised me a natural look that would wow. He wasn’t lying. I look incredible.
The sound of horns honking lures my gaze toward the city skyline. We’re on the terrace of Howerton House. It’s a venue in midtown that has becometheplace to have a wedding.
I toured it less than two months ago with Arietta. A date opened up, and Dominick pulled a few magic strings to secure the space if they wanted it. They did, so their wedding will take place right in this spot just a few weeks from now.
“I love the dress,” I tell Sophia while holding tightly to the bouquet of red roses in my hand. “I’ve loved all of them, but this is my favorite.”
It’s the fifth I’ve had on today, but it’s the mostmeof all of them. It’s satin with a ruched bodice and spaghetti straps. It’s simple, elegant and drapes my body perfectly.
“Have you thought about getting married?” she quizzes as her dark eyebrows rise. “You must get multiple marriage proposals every day.”
I laugh. “I do get a few.”
Her fingers drop to her wedding rings. “I didn’t give a lot of thought to getting married until I met Nicholas, but look at me now.”
I see happiness when I look at her. She radiates joy, and I know that has a lot to do with her husband, her kids, and her blossoming career.
“I’m honored that you asked me to be the face of your bridal collection,” I say for the third time today. “You’ve always been so generous to me.”
Sophia and everyone at Ella Kara’s parent company, Foster Enterprises, have treated me with respect and kindness. Not only have they paid me remarkably well for promoting their clothing, but they’ve made a point of honoring my preferences. If I’ve felt uncomfortable with an outfit, they’ve never pushed me to wear it.
“I meant what I said,” she reiterates her point by tapping my hand. “If you get married, say the word, and this dress is yours. It’ll be in our sample closet forever, so I’ll pin your name on the garment bag.”
I take another look at myself and imagine what it would feel like to wear this when renewing my vows with my husband. “Thank you.”
