Page 76 of The Dating Pact

She gaped at me for a moment, unblinking, and I thought it a shame no one had ever helped her put her shoes on before. I took the box from her hands, and she came back to life with an audible inhale. “Thank you.”

I picked up the first shoe, considering the pointy toe and slim heel. “These are gonna kill you.”

“That’s why I’m bringing the sneakers.”

I held up her right foot, grazed her petal-pink-painted toes with my thumb, then slid the shoe on. I set it on the floor with a squeeze of her ankle and permitted myself a caress of her shin as payment before repeating the whole process with her left foot. This time, I doubled my payment with a kiss on her knee. Taking her hand in mine, I towed her up with me. “You ready?”

She nodded, smiling, almost shyly, and I could see she wanted to tell me something. Something really important.

Maybe the same something really important I wanted to tell her. But now wasn’t the time. Like she’d said, she didn’t want to be late.

I grabbed her purse and offered Dorothy a farewell pet before leading the way out the door. Brooke locked up behind me and tucked her keys into her bag, looped over my shoulder, before taking my proffered hand. The ease with which we interlaced our fingers was the same ease with which we were making this transition.

Inside my car, we buckled in, and Brooke helped herself to cuing up her playlist on the Bluetooth. “Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Like I said, I wanted to.”

“I didn’t know if…”

I made a left out of the parking lot, following the directions on my phone. “If I wanted to come with you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if it would be uncomfortable for you because you’ve only ever…” She trailed off again, and I could guess why.

I offered her a small shake of my head as I followed the on-ramp for the highway. “It won’t be uncomfortable. Not with you.”

“I don’t want you to be sad or anything.”

I took my time, waiting until I merged into the middle lane to answer. “No. I spent a lot of time worrying about how I’d feel if I ever decided to try to be with someone again. I thought it would feel like I was betraying her or something, but you and I have been friends for so long that I don’t think I could ever feel that way with you. Maybe it would be different—I’d feel different—if it were someone else, but you’ve only ever made me happy. So, no, I won’t be sad. I might get a little emotional because only serial killers remain dry-eyed at weddings, but I plan on having a lot of fun.”

When she stayed quiet, I glanced at her again to find her contemplating me with her head tipped to the side. “What about you?” I asked. “Are weddings hard for you?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Yes and no. Yes, they’re hard in that I get a little jealous, but no, because I’m so happy for them. Tom and I weren’t meant to be.”

“You’re goddamn right you weren’t.”

She bit back a smile. “I’d bought my wedding dress. Did I ever tell you that?”

I changed lanes and placed my hand over her thigh, the thin layers of her dress wrinkling under my fingers. “I don’t think so.”

“It was a few weeks before I was diagnosed. I found the dress,” she said with a sad little laugh. “But by the time it came in, I was well into treatment, so my mom went and picked it up then hung it in my closet. Whenever I felt like…” She swallowed, her chin dipping for a moment. “When it got really hard, I’d look at that dress, and it would keep me going. It represented my future. Plus, it was so gorgeous.”

“What’d it look like?”

She threw her hand out. “Classic. Ivory satin A-line with?—”

“I have no idea what that means.”

She drew the figure with her hands in front of her. “The skirt sort of billows out like the legs of the letter A. My dress had wide straps that created this low V neckline,” she explained, her fingers meeting in a point at her chest. “And it had an open back and a long train. It was simple, but I loved it.”

“What did you end up doing with it?”

She lifted a careless shoulder. “Sold it. Used the money to buy supplies for my farm.”

I caught her gaze. “Good.”

“What about you? What was your wedding like?”

“Huge. Her family’s big and loud, and it took us a while to find a place that would be able to accommodate three hundred people. In Arab weddings, they have a special entrance for the bride and groom.” I smiled at the memory. “It’s called a zaffa, and these guys play traditional drums and perform chants for the bride and groom to enter. They did some sword dancing, and her uncles put me on their shoulders.”

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