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It was a designer piece I ordered in her size after sneaking a look at the labels in her clothes that first morning, a present to show my appreciation for her.
I thought it might be an extra key in my arsenal to persuade her to stay with me back then. Now, I was thinking that it was more of a celebration of our decision to stay together.
Her eyes become unexpectedly watery as she reverently pulls the black dress from the cover, admiring it.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Thank you so much.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” I tell her, almost automatically, because it’s the absolute truth.
She turns to me with a watery smile, then rises to kiss me sweetly on her tiptoes.
“Thank you,” she says again. “I’ll try it on now.”
I nod, turning back to the wardrobe myself to grab a nice suit that will make me look like the businessman I am. I need the visual power – something to show Alana’s parents that I’m capable of looking after her. Both in terms of money and in terms of responsibility.
I leave off the tie, deciding it will look too formal.
My plan is not to intimidate them, after all. Instead, I want to charm them.
I need to.
Even if I’m not too worried about Alana potentially going home, I’m anxious for her to be happy here.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we are sitting on the sofa, looking camera ready.
Alana looks gorgeous in her dress – glamorous, even.
We look at the preview on the cell phone screen. I rigged it up on a stand in front of us, so neither of us has to hold it.
I also feel like I look the part. Strong, respectable, mature – but, I hope, not too old.
Because that’s going to be one of the first objections they will bring up.
I look to Alana at my side.
“Ready?” I ask her.
There is a pause.
For a moment, I think she is going to shake her head – or worse, cry. But then the tense moment passes, and she nods bravely, lifting her chin.
She reaches out and presses the call button on her screen, waiting for the call to connect. I reach down and hold her hand, just slightly out of the view of the camera.
“Here we go,” Alana whispers.
I take a brief nervous breath.
And then the call connects.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Alana
The sight of my dad’s face after a week away from home would normally be the kind of thing that would bring a smile to my face. But this time, I only manage the smallest, tensest little movement of the muscles around my mouth, none of which reaches my eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
