Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Cleo shakes her head, the bright-pink highlights in her hair flashing.
“Man, I just wonder if Gramps saved the best for last. What if he sends you off to a dinosaur dig and you wind up engaged to a hot archaeologist or something?”
“Oh my God, can we stop?” Her face is a ripe tomato.
“She has a point. Let’s get back to your wedding day, Gigi.” Hattie looks smugly satisfied as she studies my face in the mirror for any touch-ups needed. “The rules say you have to be smack-dab gorgeous, and I’m not letting you walk out there looking like anything less. I have to return the favor.”
“True, you had some help from yours truly,” I say with a grin. “Your mom wasn’t half-bad either.”
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and she grins back, nodding to the makeup brush in my hand.
“Yet here you are, doing your own makeup like a pro. You know how good you’ll look when the dust settles. I’m here for moral support.”
It’s true. I didn’t want to bring anyone all the way out here just to make my face a wedding mask.
Besides, if there’s one thing you learn from growing up famous, it’s how to do makeup quickly and efficiently.
Kane said he’d leave it to me, yes, but he’s also a minimalist at heart.
For my hubby, I’ve kept it simple, going for a subtle spring glow that brightens my features.
Light-brown liner, just enough to emphasize the shape of my eyes.
No false lashes.
Soft coral-pink lipstick.
The same shade painted on my fingers and toes.
“Okay, how are we doing? Incredible yet?” I ask the peanut gallery.
“Smokeshow,” Cleo clips.
“Showstopper!” Hattie agrees, brushing a hand down the sleek satin of my skirt. “Holy crap, it’s almost time. Are you ready?”
Ready or not…
I check my phone.
Mom sent me a pic of some flowers and says she’ll be up in a sec.
“Mom’s coming,” I say. “I think she’ll want to help me put on the dress.”
“Mom’s privilege,” she agrees carefully.
I know where she’s coming from.
Hattie’s relationship with her mom also wasn’t the best until recently, so she gets how complicated it can be. But in the end, family’s family, and if they’re willing to step up, we’ll let them.
Ever since Ethan found out he wasn’t Dad’s last summer, and ever since I turned over Gramps’ stuff to Mom, she’s been stepping it up in the parenting department.
It’s a little weird, honestly.
But it means a lot to see her try.
“Whoa. That’s a ton of flowers.” Hattie peers over my shoulder at the message.
“I asked her to pick them up. Hopefully she has the bouquet so I can see if I can even carry it. It’s huge.”
“Gorgeous, though!” she says.
She’s right.
Beautiful daisies, roses, and dahlias.
They’ll be a vibrant splash of color against my cream dress.
“Very you,” Cleo adds, standing over my shoulder. “Kinda important to make it all jive.”
It’s a relief to hear that, knowing I let Mom pick the flowers without much discussion. Of course, she went for something extravagant and over-the-top because that’s Mom, but she chose something I would like.
A statement.
Not the elegant, insanely pricey Black Baccara roses she’d have picked and had flown in from Europe. Like she actually did for her own wedding, I mean.
There’s a knock at the door, and Mom comes in, dressed in a pale-yellow dress that she somehow pulls off. I’m surprised the flowers piled in her arms doesn’t pull her over.
“This is for the altar,” she gasps, a little winded.
We’re in the room I first stayed in when I met Kane.
Somehow, it felt right—and it gives him the opportunity to get ready with Dan and Ethan and his parents.
Hattie hangs the dress back up and takes the flowers, while Mom hugs me so tight I can’t quite breathe.
“You look so gorgeous, honey,” she says, a little choked. “No wonder Kane wants to marry you.”
I smile, because I know she means it in the best way. “I thought you were going to be late.”
“And miss the moment my daughter steps into her dress for the first time? No!” She shakes her head firmly. “This is too important. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Having passed the flowers off to Clee to carry downstairs, Hattie hands me my dress again.
We picked it for its simplicity, this modern and elegant off the shoulder piece, airy and bright. It sweeps in at my waist and cascades out again at my feet.
Classic and timeless.
I step into it carefully and for the first time, the tears bite.
Holy hell.
As far as weddings go, this one feels relaxed, but the emotional sucker punch had to come sometime.
So far, I haven’t had to do anything except wake up and scarf down the breakfast Hattie brought me in bed.
“Yay, the sun’s out! The rain this morning had me worried,” Hattie says, bouncing with excitement at the window. “And it looks like they’re all set up. Don’t look, Margot. You can’t see yet and spoil the surprise.”