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His shoulders tense. There’s a flicker of anger in his eyes before he bats it away. "Then you also won’t dream of turning down an old man’s wish?"
It’s my turn to stiffen. "Depends on the wish. I’ve already agreed to not only take on the role of CEO but also to settle down, as you dictated."
He doesn’t seem satisfied by that. "You were wise to acknowledge when someone gave you good advice. All I ask is you do one more thing for me."
I scowl.
His forehead furrows.
I am only just beginning to get to know this man, but I see the same stubbornness in his expression that I recognize in myself. My footsteps slow; so do his and Belle’s. We come to a stop at the threshold of the library he’s been walking us to—not the dining room, as I’d originally envisaged.
"I think I’ve done enough. I—"
"G-Pa, can I call you G-Pa?" Belle chimes in.
Arthur shoots me a final look, then glances down at her upturned face. "I would like that very much. And both of you would make me very happy if you agree to my last wish. I don’t have many days left on this earth, after all."
Why that canny so-and-so. The man has a strong enough constitution, he’ll probably outlast all of us. My scowl deepens. I open my mouth to tell him off, but Belle cries out, "Of course, G-Pa." She turns to me. "I’m sure there’s no harm in agreeing to what he wants."
I glare at her. Her color fades, but she firms her lips. The two of us lock gazes. The air between us heats. The pulse at the base of her throats kicks up and moves as she swallows. Another wall I’ve built around my heart crumbles, and a slow beat drums at my temples. If Arthur weren't here, I teach her never to defy me. My fingers twitch. I reach down and tuck a stand of her hair behind her ear. Her pupils dilate. She sways toward me. I begin to lower my head when Arthur declares,
"I want the two of you to marry right now."
19
Mira
"What?" Edward whips his head around to look at his grandfather. Whatever he sees there has him turning to look at the conservatory. And that has him tightening his jaw. He’s gritting his teeth so hard the muscles of his jaw flex. I follow his line of sight, take in the group gathered inside, a-n-d, the breath whooshes out of me.
"We…we’re getting married, right now?" my voice comes out shaky.
"Why wait until next week, when you can tie the knot now?" G-Pa’s tone is satisfied. He glances toward us, then seems to falter. "I hope it’s okay I invited your friends and arranged for an officiant?" He waves a hand toward the be-spectacled guy I don’t recognize at the far end of the library in front of the lit fireplace.
"I assume you didn’t want a priest presiding, Edward?"
"Nice of you to take my wishes into consideration." His tone has a biting edge which cuts through me.
"You’re welcome," G-Pa says in a mild voice. "Mira, I arranged for your friend to get your wedding dress made."
"My wedding dress?" I ask faintly.What is happening? Are we getting married, right now?Given I recognize the people in the room who’re all dressed up in their finest and who’re looking at us with big smiles on their faces, I’d say my question is rhetorical.But I’m not ready.I wasn't ready for getting married in a week. And I'm absolutely not ready to get hitched within the hour. I tighten my hold on Edward’s arm. He must feel the pressure of my grasp, must sense the nervousness that, no doubt, vibrates off of me like I’m an off-balance washing machine on the spin cycle, for he places his big warm hand over mine, and it's at this point, I notice my fingers are freezing.
He lowers his head to mine, and under the pretense of pressing a kiss to my temple, whispers, "Breathe."
I try to comply, but my lungs burn. I shake my head. This must be a dream. We’re getting married.Right now. Right. Now.My guts churn. A bead of sweat slides down my back. My muscles seize up.
"Take a breath for me." His hard voice cuts through the chaos in my head.
I suck in air, and this time, oxygen rushes to my head, and I sway.
He tightens his hold on my hand. "You will not faint."
His voice is harsh and emotionless, and exactly what I need right now.
"Keep breathing," he orders.
I do as he says. Focus on my breathing. In-out-in.
"Good girl." The words are spoken in a low voice only I can hear. My toes curl, and heat courses through my belly. I blink and manage to focus on the faces of the people in the room. Summer and Sinclair, Penny and Knight, Abby and Cade, Gio and Rick—the eight of them stand clustered in a corner. The women wear expressions that range from happiness to concern.
