Page 51 of Love in Fine Print

Yes. Yes, I had.

I’d dreamed of this moment happening all my life, but not like this. I’d grown up believing that my person, my lobster, my other half, my soul mate, the love of my life, would ask me to marry them in some personal, romantic way. I’d never wanted the big screen at a sporting event or a flash mob dance, just something personal—something that I could look back on and feel sentimental about.

The inner romantic was screaming that this wasn’t right. That I shouldn’t go through with this. That marriage should be about love, not convenience. But I gagged her and shoved her out of my mind. She was not going to help me make partner.

I took in a shaky breath as I pondered whether or not I’d just sold my soul. Although the career path I’d chosen had causedmany people to bend their moral and ethical compasses, I had never fallen victim to that trap. But this…this was definitely selling out.

A tear pricked the back of my eye at the loss of what I’d always imagined this chapter in my life would be like. Mainly, that the man I was planning to walk down the aisle toward and pledge for better or worse was actually someone I was in love with. Someone who loved me and who wanted to spend his life with me. I’d always imagined that I would only get married once, and it would be forever.

Was that naïve? Perhaps. Especially considering my career. Maybe my optimistic view on matrimony was nurtured by having a best friend whose grandma ran a bridal boutique. I’d grown up seeing brides have their dress moment and gush about the person they were going to spend the rest of their lives with. Or maybe my outlook on betrothal had more to do with the example I’d seen in my house growing up and wanting the exact opposite.

My father worshipped my mother, and she walked all over him. She took advantage of him and used me as a pawn to get her way. To this day, I still blame her for his death. Technically, he’d died from complications of the pneumonia he’d contracted after having open heart surgery, but I believe that what he really died from was a broken heart.

A knock sounded at the door, and I blinked, snapping back into the present. “Come in.”

Trevor opened the door and walked in with a blank expression on his face. He’d offered to walk Ben out and I wondered if something had happened. It was only after he shut the door and turned back around to face me that his expression and demeanor bloomed into full theatrics.

“Holy shit!” he whisper-yelled dramatically as his hands clutched at his chest.

“I know,” I co-signed his response. “This is crazy, right?”

“Crazy brilliant!” Trevor responded as he rushed toward my desk and lowered down into the seat in front of me. “I know I say this all the time, but you, my goddess, my Barbie Lawyer, my queen, are a fucking genius. How didInot come up with this? I’m slipping.”

“Do you think it will actually work?” What had sounded like a brilliant plan last night was now starting to curb toward madness. Doubt wasn’t just creeping in; it had kicked down the door.

“Hell yes it will work!” Trevor declared decisively. “Come March, your name will be above those doors. And if it’s not, you shouldmarchout those doors and never come back. You deserve partner and now there is nothing stopping you from getting it.”

“Right.” I nodded as I bit the inside of my mouth.

Trevor tilted his head to the side. “How are you not happy about this? You figured it out! You cracked the code! You found the cheat sheet. You bagged yourself a hot bachelor who you get to shack up with for the next year?—”

“Shack up with?” No one had said anything about living together. Why would we have to move in with one another? It’s not like anyone from my office had ever been to my home. “I’m not going to live with him.”

Trevor mimicked a laugh. “Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m not joking. Why would I live with him?”

“Because you’re going to be married to him,” he spoke slowly as if I wasn’t catching on.

“Yes, legally. But there’s no reason why we have to cohabitate.”

Trevor’s left brow raised. “Yes, my lovely, there is. You just met this man and now you’re marrying him. You think Loomis, Lincoln, and Jones aren’t going to do some digging? You aren’tthe only one who wants to make partner. They will doanythingto knock you out of the running.”

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.

Trevor was right. My whirlwind romance was going to raise suspicion, most people would probably assume it was some sort of shotgun situation. But the Three Stooges, who sadly were my competition, would be all over it. Loomis’ brother-in-law was a not-so-scrupulous private investigator. I would not put it past him to camp outside my condo to try and prove it was a stunt.

Which it was.

The alarm on Trevor’s watch went off.

“Oooh.” He rubbed his hands together maniacally. “Time to go whip some interns into shape. Let me know when we’re going dress shopping.”

With that, he got up and left.

Dress shopping. Over the years I’d spent hanging out at Bliss Bridal, I’d seen thousands of dresses. But there was only one that I had fallen in love with. It was from a designer in Italy who handmade every dress. His designs took nine months to a year to come in, six if you put a rush order on it.

There was no way that I could get my dream one-of-a-kind Lugazzo gown in time. In fact, I couldn’t order any dress. My wedding was in two weeks, which meant I’d have to buy something off the rack.

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