Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
She covered my mouth with her hand to stop me from talking.
Amelia stepped closer to me, her body almost touching mine. I immediately brought my hands around her waist and pulled her the last inch so she was against me. She was so soft, so warm, and I thought her curves may have filled out a bit.
“Can I ask you something and you give me a straight answer?” Her green eyes stared up at me, and I was lost in them.
Her hand was still pressed over my mouth, so I just nodded.
“What if I don’t want you to change?”
My heart sank as those words left her perfect lips.
“What if I like it when you are forceful and controlling? What if I just want it in specific situations?” Her hand stayed over my mouth, and I merely nodded, refusing to get my hopes up that she was saying what I thought she was saying.
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at me.
“In the sculpture garden, you asked me a question. Is it too late to change my mind?”
I pulled her hand away from my mouth and sealed my lips to hers in an all-consuming kiss.
CHAPTER 36
AMELIA
“Are you ready?” my father asked as he took my arm.
I gave him a big smile and nodded.
My cheeks and jaw ached.
I was smiling so much, and I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that I would get laugh lines. To be honest, I’d stopped caring about those perceived imperfections a while ago. I was excited and so happy.
The day was perfect.
The sun was out, but it wasn’t hot; it was warm with a cool breeze. The last of the wisteria from the tunnel was about to die off, so the air smelled sweet, but not cloying or overpowering. Just the faintest floral hints mingling with the cut grass and fresh air.
The string quartet had set up on the lawn, and they were playing the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Everything was going right—even better than I could have imagined. I was so excited, that it could all go wrong and I probably wouldn’t even notice. As long as he was still there waiting for me, it would all be wonderful.
“You seem different from when we did this last time.” My father studied me while we waited for our turn.
“Last time I was supposed to marry a man I didn’t know for a merger. This time, I’m marrying a man I know and love,” I said as I watched my sister, the maid of honor, walk down the aisle in her pretty burnt orange dress.
“I’m glad this worked out in the end. I’m sorry your mother wasn’t feeling up to coming.”
“I know she chose not to come, and I’m okay with that. Today isn’t supposed to be about her. It’s about me and my husband and the life we are going to make together.”
I had chosen not to tell my father about the long, ranting voicemail my mother had left, calling me a slew of names. Listening to it and discussing it was simply not worth my time. She had chosen not to darken this event with her presence, and I was going to respect that.
“You know, I brought you here when you were little. I don’t know if you remember.” He looked around the brilliant green garden area while we waited for the music to change to the bridal march.
“I know. I always loved this garden, and Luc and I couldn’t think of a better place to get married. We come out here every weekend to have a picnic and just be together. He even leaves his phone in the car.”
“Good.” My father nodded. “You deserve a man who will do that.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” I blinked several times to stop the tears that were pricking at the backs of my eyes.
“This wedding is beautiful, and so are you,” my father said, placing a kiss on my cheek as the music stopped. Then the small group of friends and family who supported Luc and me stood, and the opening notes of the bridal march played.
For the first time, I actually felt beautiful.
The dress I had chosen was perfect. It had a simple A-line silhouette made in a soft antique white with hand-embroidered red flowers starting at the skirt and twining down to the hem. I had kept my makeup light, and my hair was down and flowing.
It felt natural, beautiful, and like me.
The real me.
Not the doll my mother had made up, not the woman I had been expected to be, but just me.
With my arm linked with my father’s, we walked down the makeshift aisle. It was sectioned off with small solar lights in soft reds and pinks. The flower girls had sprinkled the grass with orange and red rose petals. I wanted to commit every detail to memory.