Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
The best part, though, is her smile. It’s not a fake one. It lights up her whole face. I make my way to her, unable to stop myself.
“You like it,” I say. It’s not a question.
“I love it.” She does a small twirl, the skirt flaring around her, and then her hands disappear into hidden pockets. She pulls them out, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “Pockets!”
I laugh, crossing to her in three strides. “You found the pockets.”
“I was so worried you’d pick something... I don’t know, too formal? Too princess-y?” She runs her hands over the tulle, smoothing it. “But you nailed it. All of them. I tried on three, and this one...”
“Had pockets,” I finish.
“Had pockets,” she confirms with a small laugh. I inwardly relax seeing how at ease she is now.
I cup her face and kiss her, soft and lingering, tasting the vanilla lip gloss she’s put on. “You look perfect,” I say against her mouth. “Everyone’s going to see you and know we’re perfect together.”
“We’ve been together for five minutes.” She laughs, the sound lighter than I’ve heard all afternoon.
“I knew in a minute, so it should only take them a couple.” I kiss her again, trailing my thumb along her jaw. “But don’t you worry; I’m getting all the rest of your minutes.”
Her breath catches. She searches my face, and I mean every word.
“Come,” I say, offering my arm.
The wedding is being held on the estate’s private beach. It’s been transformed with thousands of fairy lights and white roses. The guest list is small by royal standards—but every single one of them is watching as we descend the main staircase.
I feel Mable tense beside me, her hand tightening on my arm.
“Eyes up here, beautiful,” I tell her. “You’re the most important person here.”
“Whatever.” She drops her chin, trying to hide her blush, but it’s the truth. She is the most important person to me.
We make our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations for my brother’s wedding and curious looks.
Then I see Cordelia.
She’s standing near the champagne fountain in red dress, dark hair swept up, laughing at something an older man has said. She spots us immediately—of course she does—and her face lights up with genuine pleasure.
“Caldwell!” She crosses to us, arms open, and pulls me into a hug. “It’s about time you got down here.”
“Sorry,” I lie. “My girl can make me forget time. She’s rather distracting.” I step back, keeping one hand on Mable’s waist. “Cordelia, this is Mable. Mable, Cordelia VanCleef.”
Cordelia turns her full attention to Mable. She extends her hand with a warm smile, leaning in slightly like they’re already friends. “Mable, I’ve been dying to meet you. A girl that finally snagged Caldwell’s attention. You Montclair boys are dropping like flies.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too.” Mable relaxes even more.
“You know it’s all that everyone has been talking about. The two of you,” Cordelia laughs, touching my arm lightly. “I was starting to get jealous.”
She’s joking. I know she’s joking. But something in the way she says it—the way her fingers linger on my sleeve just a second too long—makes Mable stiffen beside me.
“You look lovely,” Cordelia continues, not missing a beat. “That color is perfect on you. Caldwell has excellent taste.”
“Thank you,” Mable says quietly.
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” Cordelia says, her eyes bright and warm. “How you met and how he convinced you to come to this circus. I need all the details.”
She’s being nice and welcoming. Exactly the friend I’ve always known her to be. I wonder if she knows what my mother is up to and is trying to overcompensate to offset it. Her hand finds my arm again, squeezing gently. “Save me a dance later? For old times’ sake?”
“We’ll see,” I say, knowing I won’t. That would give another person a chance to dip in and steal a dance from Mable. Plus, I don’t want there to be any questions or speculation when it comes to the woman in my life. These vultures are looking for any scrap of info they can take and spin to fit their narrative. I won’t give them that.
Just as soon as Cordelia steps away, Jacob Manchester is saying hello. I introduce him to Mable, my possessive hold never letting her go.
“Wells?” Mable’s hand comes to my chest. I look down at her, and whatever I was going to say to Jacob dies in my throat. I love when she calls me that. The first time had been when my mouth was on her.
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“I believe it’s starting.”
I see that the string quartet has shifted to the processional, and guests are migrating toward the white folding chairs arranged on the sand. The sun is setting behind us, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold that reflect off the water.