My Darling Bride(59)

Right, ugh. My anxiety shoots up. I’ve been so busy with Graham that I haven’t thought about the window lately. I need to get the new display up. “Hi, and yes, we’d be so thankful if you’d feature us. We put a lot of time and effort into our displays. We’ll have it ready by the second week of June. How does that sound?”

“Awesome. What time would be good to come by?”

I schedule a slot for her, and as I’m getting off the phone, a photo comes through on my cell. It’s Graham, replying to the text thread I’ve entitled Things We Should Know About Each Other. We’ve been texting on and off since our date, usually first thing in the morning and then in the evenings.

I squint at the pic he’s sent. It’s one from a college party where he’s standing on top of a bar inside a fraternity house as he holds up a trophy. A wide, broad grin is on his handsome face. His hair is short and spiky, his face young and free. He’s wearing Florida State gym shorts and no shirt. His chest is a work of art, an eight-pack glistening.

You were trashed, I send.

We’d just won the national championship over Alabama.

Did you have a serious college girlfriend?

No. I was too focused on football.

Hmm, Divina was his first serious relationship. It lasted for years. And then she cheated on him.

Send me a pic of you from the past, he sends.

I scroll through my pics and send one of me from a birthday dinner at the bookstore, after hours. Whoever took it, probably Babs or Terry, caught me in the middle of an eye roll as I attempted to blow out candles on a four-layer coconut cake Gran had baked. Andrew and Jane, ages twelve and thirteen, sit on either side of me, laughing, and Gran is behind me, a serene smile on her face.

I dig the pink streaks in your hair. See you soon, he replies.

Tucking my cell away, I finish my tea, then check my hair in the mirror. It’s up again, the length braided and twisted around a bun in the back. Little curly wisps dangle from the side. I reapply my red lipstick. I get on the PA system and ask for Jane to come to my office.

She waltzes in, and I smile nervously. “It’s time. Will you help me?” I ask as I nudge my head at the dress hanging from a sconce on the wall.

She nods, her face impassive as she helps me change out of my slacks and blouse and into a tea-length dress that Brody insisted I get yesterday. He and Cas showed up at the store yesterday at closing time. Jane and I went with them to a bridal store in Tribeca. The place was appointment only, but Brody said his family knew the designer, and he was able to get us one after hours.

We lounged on a couch and watched as models showcased tea-length bridal gowns. I chose a champagne-colored, figure-hugging slip dress. Small sparkling beads adorn the material. My favorite part is the corset bodice with silk ribbons that tie in the back. I balked at the cost, but Brody insisted Graham wanted me to have a new dress. After a few alterations that only took minutes, we left the boutique.

Jane zips up the back, then turns me around. “You ready?”

“This dress is entirely too much for a civil ceremony,” I murmur as I gaze at myself in the mirror and smooth down the fabric. It is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.

“It’s perfect. Now, get out of here before I lock you in your office so you won’t marry him.”

“Babs would just let me out.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck. I’m gonna go upstairs and straighten the shelves. Keep myself busy.”

The rotunda is full of customers when I walk out, but no one seems to notice I’m overly dressed. Books can do that to a person.

“Emmy?” says a familiar male voice. Sucking in a sharp breath, I look up from the messages I was reading on the manual typewriter in the rotunda.

What is he doing here?

Standing near the door, Kian wears joggers and a Nike shirt, as if he’s just come from the gym. His blue eyes laser in on mine. “Hey.”

“You can’t be here,” I hiss as I walk over. “I told you not to come near me. That includes the bookstore.”

“I would have called, but you blocked my number. I needed to talk to you.”

My heart jumps in my chest as I remember our fight, his choking me, me being terrified beyond reason. I recall the rushed way I packed, hands trembling, the intense adrenaline rushing through my veins.

My father may not have hurt me physically, but his abuse and my mother leaving left a wound on my soul. That hurt, that awful wound, has kept me from truly giving myself to anyone.

“You. Need. To. Leave,” Jane calls from the staircase as she rushes down the last few steps. Anger flashes from her eyes. Her voice has carried around the store, and a few customers openly stare at us.

I think she’s going to bump chests with him, so I put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. “That’s enough,” I say under my breath.

“Come on, Emmy, please. Just give me a minute. Outside,” he adds. “It won’t take long.”

“Why?” I ask.

He exhales heavily. “I need to tell you about a visit I got yesterday. It’s important, or I wouldn’t have come.”

Okay, he has my interest.

“It’s about you and Graham.” He practically spits his name.

I exhale. “No tricks, Kian.”

He holds his hands up in a placating manner. “None. I’m sober. I haven’t had anything to drink for weeks.”