AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Once more, bad word usage.
I don’t plan on making Maximus Kanehappy. I’m going to give the man a lifetime of sheer ecstasy. Of unending passion, exhilaration, completion. Of all the fulfillment and fire he already gives to me.
With effort, I scoot the mush into my mind’s margins. Or so I think. It’s still a massive chore to push the tears back down as I address Kell. “When you’re right, sister, you’re really very right.”
Kell sniffs and quirks up one edge of her mouth. “But honey, I’m always right.”
Madame Verocity, seemingly in her own world while circling me to fluff flounces and pull out the ruffled train, suddenly pops her head up. “Hmmm. Not finished.”
She strides to a built-in closet and emerges with a veil so long and gorgeously diaphanous, even Maria von Trapp—the movie version, at least—would bow in envy.
“Aha.Nowfinished. Minus makeup, hair, and jewelry, of course.”
“It’s perfect.” Kell moves behind me, helping the designer to spread out the veil.
“Additionally, we can customize the tiara,” Madame states. “As well as the veil, which is actually aninterestingly blank canvas.” In response to the quizzical glance I join to Kell’s, she elaborates, “I have a very talented team of fine fabric embroiderers. They can customize a design here, if you have decided on an overall theme for the occasion?”
“Theme?” Kell nearly stammers. “Not real—”
“Yes,” I barge in. “Really. Absolutely.”
When Kell flashes me a glare and taps a finger toward the whiteboard calendar on the wall, I stubbornly purse my lips. There will besomethings in this wedding just for Maximus and me, even if it means photo schedules getting adjusted and late press announcements. Nobody, even Ellery Gentry, will lift a fraction of a protest about it.
Impending realms war or not, this is going to be Maximus’s and mywedding day. Whether history notes what I’m doing to make it more special for just the two of us is up to the scholars tasked with recording it. They don’t concern me.
Only one person fully concerns me.
And between now and our official date, he’ll stay that way—come what may.
* * *
“Ermmm…Kell?”
I feel a little guilty about speaking up, since she’s the one who just paid for our decadent lunch at the Biltmore Santa Barbara. But not that guilty, considering what I plunked down to Madame Verocity for the wedding gown. The contrition eases even more when I reflect on the veil I detailed with the designer, who lent her avid approval for the custom concept. Part of me even wishes time would fast-forward so I get to see Maximus’s reaction too.
But the pangs through my senses aren’t solely from wedding fever.
I miss him. Desperately. Stupidly. Painfully.
Though we’ve only been apart a bit more than twenty-four hours and have exchanged ten times that number in text messages, it’s a truth as plain as the big red flower that adorns Kell’s floppy driving hat. She plops the thing onto her head while flipping the switch to retract the sunroof on her little sports car—probably to prevent the watchful valet from snapping a surreptitious picture of us.
I’ve already deployed my wide sunglasses and silky neck scarf for the same reason.
“Yes, m’dear?” she answers to my hail while we clear the last section of the hotel’s terracotta driveway and hook a right, instead of a left, onto the drive that ribbons between the resort and Butterfly Beach. “You need something?”
“Yes.”
I stab at the volume button to save my eardrums from the thumping decibels of music she’s blasting. I’m as much of an EDM girl as everyone else in Southern California, but not when I’ve got a serious question to pose. Fate is with me, lending a few moments of greater calm when she slows to check cross traffic at a small intersection.
“Why did you ask the valet for directions to Hendry’s Beach?”
“Hmmm. What?”
“You heard me. Why are we going north? LA is a hundred miles the other direction. Don’t even go there withHarry and Meghan are dying to have catch-up margaritas. I won’t believe you.”
“Do we have to have a hard itinerary?” she replies as if we’ve decided to deter from our normal frozen yogurt joint for the simple sake of nostalgia. “Just thought you’d like a little adventure. You always liked it at Hendry’s. You remember, right? When Mother used to drag us up here because her favorite masseuse relocated to the spa at the Bacara, and we’d bribe the nanny of the moment to take us to the Boathouse for those decadent burrito breakfast plates?”
I completely kill the EDM and cock my head like a second one has sprung out of hers. “Except that we just had lunch. And, considering Maximus has been up all night think-tanking an accelerated semester plan, I’ve got a lot of student-type stuff to catch up on. Wait,” I bark, a new revelation sharpening my spine. “Don’t you too?”
