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“But I’ve already found the gown I’m going to wear,” I remind them with another laugh. This one is a little strained.
I didn’t expect to find a gown that I could see myself getting married in. Mostly because I’m not sure I’m even going to make it down the aisle. But when I put on the delicate, off-the-shoulder, tulle and lace wedding gown, I saw it all.
A cathedral filled with white and blush floral arrangements.
The ballgown’s court train trailing behind me.
The pews filled with family and friends, smiling happily as I walked down the aisle with my father at my side.
And Declan, standing at the altar in a tailored black tuxedo, staring at me like I am the most beautiful woman in the world.
For the first time since I agreed to the engagement, I can picture myself getting married. Part of me feels foolish. This marriage is a business arrangement, not a fairy tale. That’s even more true now that there are questions about Declan’s involvement in Antony’s death.
But the butterflies fluttering around my stomach don’t seem to care one bit.
“There’s no point in trying on anything else,” I add. “Right, Nancy?” I turn to the woman who’s helped me in and out of countless dresses. Like me, she’s undoubtedly fatigued from the effort.
But the kind woman simply smiles and says, “Mr. MacKenzie booked our services for the entire day. I’m at your disposal for as long as you’d like.”
Of course, he did.
Jane and Heather clap with triumph and continue to urge me to try on one more gown.
I am laughing and joking that I’m done being their doll when I notice their playful insistence falls silent. Realizing they’re looking at something behind me, I turn and exhale a tiny gasp when I see Declan standing there.
He’s dressed in his usual slacks and dress shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, showcasing his sexy tattoos. The memory of trailing my fingers over the art fills my head, and the never-ending desire drawing me to the man pulses through my core.
The feeling only grows when I acknowledge the expression on my fiancé’s face as his eyes trail over the gown currently hugging my body like a second skin. His forest green irises heat with blatant want, and his lips part ever so slightly. I feel a blush crawl over my neck and cheeks.
I feel compelled to say, “This isn’t my wedding dress.”
His gaze locks with mine. They simmer with a delicious smolder. “That’s a shame. You look gorgeous.”
My blush deepens.
“Then you’re going to die when you see the one she’s going to wear on the big day,” Jane offers gleefully.
“Yes,” Heather adds. “It’s stunning.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he replies. His eyes stay locked with mine. I want to ask what he’s thinking, but words escape me. I wonder if it’s always going to be this way between us—stilted silence filled with pent-up sexual tension that makes it hard to breathe, let alone think.
“Declan,” Ashley’s sultry voice breaks the silence. From the corner of my eye, I see her stand from the couch where she’s spent the afternoon. She moves to stand at my side. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Ashley.” He dips his head in brief acknowledgment before moving his eyes back to me.
My best friend isn’t so easily dismissed. “I was hoping I would’ve seen more of you these past few months.”
A mask of indifference falls over his features when he looks back at Ashley. “Why is that?”
She titters a laugh, but Declan isn’t affected by her attempt to be charming. “Because you’re marrying my best friend, of course.”
“Am I?”
Ashley’s eyes widen at his clipped reply. Again, she tries to use a light laugh to dispel the tension before she says, “Yes, of course. Unless you and Cat are no longer getting married.”
“I can assure you, we are.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I bite my bottom lip to refrain from grinning.
