Page 62 of Love in Fine Print

“Of course,” Bailey agreed.

“When I got there, Liv was flat on her ass in the grass, being attacked with slobbery kisses by a calendar-worthy golden retriever.”

I pulled my sweater off and undid my jeans as Trevor went into great detail describing Ben, his brown eyes, Adonis-like shirtless upper body, tattoos, and how nicely he filled out his gray sweats. He also went through the play-by-play of Ben insisting that he take me to get medical care and me adamantly declining.

I unzipped the garment bag and stepped into the simple satin trumpet flare Monique Lhuillier gown. I was just pulling the lace applique straps up over my shoulders when I heard Trevor announce, “And then she rode off into the sunset in the passenger seat of his Ford truck. It was like a fairytale.”

“A fairytale where I ended up having to get a cast and use a crutch for a week,” I expanded as I opened the door. Thankfully, I’d gotten the cast removed today.

When I did Trevor gasped and I saw tears fill his eyes. “You look…like a bride.”

“Well, that was sort of what I was going for,” I said as I looked down.

He wiped away the moisture and sniffed. “No, I know it’s just you look so soft, and delicate, and perfect.”

Both Trevor and Bailey began gushing over the fit of the gown and how it clung to my curves, accentuating my hips, butt, and double Ds, but still looked elegant and sophisticated.

“It’s hard to pull off that level of crazy hot sexy and still look chic upscale and classy, but somehow, my queen, you do it. It is truly a gift,” Trevor said sincerely.

A gift I’d inherited from my mother, which made me have mixed feelings about it.

“Thanks,” I grinned.

“Ben is going to die when he sees you in it,” Bailey said.

“Ben is going to want to rip it off of you when he sees you in it!” Trevor exclaimed.

As the duo contemplated whether I should wear my hair up or down and what my makeup look should be I wondered what Ben would think of me in this dress. Would he think I looked crazy sexy hot? Would he want to rip it off of me?

Not that it mattered…there would be no ripping off of dresses. We weren’t a real couple. My head knew that, and so did my heart; my hormones were the sole holdout. They were firmly on team dress rip.

26

BEN

I adjustedthe tie on my tux as I stared in the mirror. Today was a day I honestly never imagined would happen…my wedding day.

Growing up, I’d never wanted to get married. That might be controversial, considering Gran was one of the premier matchmakers in the country, but it was the truth.

My memories of childhood were pretty fuzzy. They were impressions more than actual memories. I’d basically blocked out everything before the age of four, the age when mom left. But one memory that was seared into my subconscious was the memory of finding my father, my hero, the man who I thought was Superman, bawling his eyes out and sitting at the kitchen table. I asked him what was wrong and he told me Mom was gone and she wasn’t coming back. I tried to comfort him but he yelled at me to go back to bed and threw a bottle of whiskey against the wall. I’ll never forget the sound of the glass breaking and the smell of the alcohol as it pooled on the tile floor.

I remember my dad going from being a fun, happy, present, loving dad to a withdrawn, distant, alcoholic womanizer. I remember asking him to read me a story and him being too busytrying to get to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. I remember friend’s moms dropping off food and those moms going into the bedroom to ‘check’ on him.

I didn’t just lose my mom the day she walked out; I lost my dad, too.

“You sure you’re ready to do this?” Declan asked, grabbing my shoulders with both hands as he stood behind me, looking at me through my reflection.

He’d tried to insist on throwing me a bachelor party, but I’d refused. I had no interest in going to a strip club or whatever other debauchery he had in mind. He’d been disappointed but I told him I’d make it up to him and let him plan his own bachelor party when he got married. Since he was convinced I’d be shit at the job, he’d been stoked at the trade-off.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Hey, so, uh, is Charli coming?” he asked.

I’d been wondering how long it would take for him to bring her up. Every time he was in town, he would casually, or not so casually, work her into the conversation.

“She is.”

Declan grinned from ear to ear.

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