Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
They’d co-opted the entire prospect room when they’d descended on the clubhouse hours before, all of them wearing sweats and carrying garment and makeup bags. Gracie also brought what looked like five different sorts of blow dryers and straighteners. Vi and Layna, being Vi and Layna, brought booze.
There was music and laughing coming from that room ever since. Sully had brought in trays of food, and come out looking a little shellshocked.
“I’ve seen things,” he’d said, voice comically grave. “I know things. Some things that I wish I didn’t know,” he said, making his way back into the kitchen.
I tried to sit still, then paced for another half an hour before the music finally cut off, the door opened, and in a flurry of colored dresses and perfume, out came the girls.
Even Hope, who I’d never seen in a dress before.
Sylvie was the last to make her way out, and I swear to fuck, the sight of her knocked my air right out of me.
And there she was.
In a floor-length, tight, sleeveless gown in a deep green that made the green in her eyes pop. Her hair was down, falling softly around her shoulders, and her makeup was done with a subtle hand.
Fucking gorgeous.
I didn’t realize that I’d been staring like a fucking freak, saying nothing, until Valen gave me a helpful kick to the back of the knee.
“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head.
“Somehow, I like that even better than ‘You look beautiful,’” she said, beaming at me as I got close.
“You do,” I said, feeling awkward as fuck. “Look beautiful,” I clarified.
“Thanks. You look good in a suit. Even if you fucked up the bowtie,” she told me, reaching out to fix it herself.
“Everyone else better be wearing one of these,” I grumbled as she righted it, then patted it.
“What? You think they’re trying to prank you?” she asked, shaking her head. “They’re not. Willa thinks that being all fancy will get the people with deeper pockets to dig into them.”
“Thought Junior was siphoning money your way,” I said. “Couldn’t that be enough? Without the suit,” I grumbled, wiggling my shoulders.
“I have my eyes on an addition, so we can get more much-needed rooms, maybe a rec room. Stuff to keep the residents minds and bodies busy. Willa thinks her rich friends can help with that. Who are we to argue? Besides, that suit looks a lot more comfortable than this skintight dress and these heels,” she said, moving back a step to pull up the skirt to show off the icepicks she had on.
“Fair enough,” I agreed. “You ready to go?”
Willa, ever the generous sort, had rented cars for the night, not wanting anyone to drink and drive. Or, let’s face it, show up on motorcycles to some fancy-ass hall by the beach they’d rented out for the event.
We arrived there about half an hour later.
Really, I didn’t notice jackshit.
I was too busy watching Sylvie noticing it all.
Eyes bright, often wonder-filled.
Smile big and happy and a little awestruck at the turnout and the faces she saw and the hands she shook.
And, of course, the money they raised.
Which, it turned out, would be more than enough for the renovation, the new decor, and even some to put away.
She was still high on the festivities and the champagne when I led her outside, waited for her to slip out of her heels, then walked with me down the beach.
“I feel like a balloon,” she said, making me wonder if maybe she’d had too much to drink to be making life decisions right then.
“What now?”
“A balloon. Like so full that I am at risk of bursting or flying away. Do you ever feel like that?” she asked, then turned when I didn’t answer.
Because, no, I hadn’t ever felt like that.
Not until she turned, finding me down on one knee, the ring in my hand.
And the smile turned to parted lips.
And the tears glistened in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t ask yet,” I grumbled, having had this speech all planned out. It probably had more curses it than was appropriate, but I was going to, I don’t know, say some good shit.
“Oh, shut up,” she said, wiggling her hand at me, wanting the ring. “We both know you didn’t want to give me some cheesy-ass speech,” she said as I took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.
“Got me there,” I admitted, following the urge to press a kiss to that ring before getting back up on my feet. “But you’ve been watching all those rom-coms with Sully…” I teased.
“I have not!” she said, slapping my chest before wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’ve watched some of them. But the ones with the lack of cheesiness are my favorite,” she claimed. “Just two people who clumsily found their way into their own happily ever after.”