Anna looked surprised by the question. “Of course…”
“I know it’s not traditional,” my father said. “But my wife would be there if she were still alive, so I thought I’d step in for her.”
My father was the sweetest man on the planet.
“I would be honored,” Anna said, placing her hand on his.
“Does that mean you’re going to help me pick out a dress too, Dad?” I asked playfully.
“Definitely,” he answered. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
I wanted to keep smiling, but that was hard to do. When I pictured the man I was most interested in marrying, I couldn’t imagine my family being supportive, couldn’t imagine my father being thrilled enough to join me in picking out a dress. And the thought made me sad.
Anna came out of the dressing room in a long-sleeved gown made of thin lace. The dress narrowed around her waist then flared out again, elegant and perfect for a winter wedding. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice,” I said, reacting neutrally to everything so she could pick what she really wanted without being swayed by my opinion.
“Is this the 1800s?” my father asked. “It looks like my grandmother’s wedding dress. You’re too beautiful to wear something that covers so much of your nice skin.”
She chuckled. “Alright, I’ll try another. Cat, could you help me?”
I walked with her into the dressing room then started to unfasten the miles of buttons down her back. “Don’t listen to my dad. If you like it, get it.”
“No, he’s right. It’s hard to pick out a dress Damien will like when he can’t even see it on me.”
“Well, he’ll like anything you wear. I promise you that.”
She looked at herself in the mirror as the dress slowly became looser and looser, relaxing off her shoulders and arms so she could eventually slip it off.
I glanced at her from time to time, thinking about the one subject that was usually on my mind. “Anna, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Well, Heath and I talked.”
She stiffened at the subject.
“I think I’m going to hope for the best, hope Damien changes his mind…eventually. I was wondering if—”
Anna turned around when the last button was unfastened. “Catalina, I’m going to be honest with you. I want to help you because you’re my friend. I want you to be happy. But Damien is set in his ways, and I don’t want to upset him. We’re really happy right now, and anytime that subject comes up, he gets angry. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle, and I just…don’t want to be.”
She was the perfect person to meddle on my behalf because he might actually listen to her, but I understood her request, understood why she wanted to stay impartial and not stick her neck out for me. “No, I understand.”
She dropped her gaze in sadness. “I’m sorry, Cat.”
“I know.”
“And to be honest… I’m not sure if I like you being with Heath either. I’ve become so fond of your father. He’s so sweet. I can forget what happened with Liam because that was my ex who orchestrated all of that, but I’m not sure I can forget about what happened to your dad.”
“You’ve never met Heath. You might feel differently if you did.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But I do agree with what Damien says, that you deserve the best. You’re such an amazing person, Catalina. I just imagine you being with the perfect guy.”
I pictured myself with a handsome man my family loved, but I also pictured that staleness, the nonexistent fire, the lack of excitement. “I’m not sure if perfect is what I want, Anna. I’ve been with a lot of guys, and he’s the only I’ve ever loved. That’s got to count for something.”
Her eyes softened, like she really felt my pain. “You’re going to stay with him, then?”
“For now. He said, in time, he would make Damien feel differently. I just need to be patient.”
“Well, you’re going to have to be really patient, because I don’t see that happening for a very long time.”
I sat at my vanity backstage, taking all the pins out of my hair before letting it fall down and relax around my shoulders.
My phone lit up with a text message. Baby. He was short with me over text, like he wasn’t obligated to say much since I was officially his, like a simple word could convey his need to see me.
Just finished a show.
And now what?
Girls want me to go out with them.
Out where?
For drinks.
He went silent, like he expected me to text more.
Want to meet me?
About time you asked.
Are you sure you’re able to do that?
Baby, I’m fine.
We hadn’t spoken since he went back to work the other night, but I assumed he was fine because he continued to go. I’ll let you know where we end up.
What are you wearing?
I smiled when I heard his voice in my head. You’ll just have to see.
I kept looking at the door as we sat at the table together. Most of the girls found other people to talk to, but Tracy was still with me.
“Why do you keep looking at the door?” she asked. “Expecting someone?”
I never told her we’d gotten back together. She was a close friend, but I didn’t confide all the details of my life. I doubted she would believe me if I did. “Heath and I got back together.”
“Really?” she asked. “After that fight you guys had?”
“Yeah, he won me over.”
“I think that’s great news. You aren’t going to find another man like that. He’s Grade A, top choice beef.”
“Oh, I know.” That was why I was still there, why I was going against everything I believed in just to be with him. “But he is more than his looks. He’s sweet, thoughtful, loyal…a lot of things.”
“Sounds like you love him. I’ve never seen you with the same guy for so long.”
Because I never had been. “I do.”
She gave me a surprised look, as if she didn’t expect me to admit it. “And he loves you?”
I nodded.
“I guess that’s obvious just by the way he looks at you.” She spun her olive around in her glass. “Man, why does his brother have to be married…?”
I chuckled. “You’ll find someone, Tracy.”
“Not like that,” she said as she flipped her hair. “He’s one in a million.”
Yeah, he was.
My eyes went to the entryway when I saw a six-foot-three hunk walk inside. All eyes turned his way, cataloguing all the features that were impossible not to notice, his massive build, the way he stretched the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt over his strong pecs, his scorching blue eyes, his hard jawline sprinkled with a shadow of hair.
He headed to the bar first and ordered his drink.
I stared at his ass, liking the snug fit of his jeans.
It didn’t take long for a woman to make a move, to touch him on the arm and make a pass. He didn’t smile playfully, didn’t say more than a few words with an annoyed expression, before he walked across the bar to me, like he already knew where I was without checking.