Page 96 of Tempting God

“Agreed. You know, Ace won’t want to help us on this one.”

“No, he won’t.” I finish my beer. “This one is on you and me, my friend. Come. We can start preparing in my study before our wives get home.”

Brooks exhales. “Let’s hope we don’t fuck it up.”

22

Greer

Tonight might be the biggest fundraiser event for Grant. And I’m afraid I’m going to ruin everything. I look in the mirror. The dress is stunning, but my baby bump is starting to show. God help me because all I can hear right now is my mother’s voice, telling me what a disgrace I am. I twist, frowning. Maybe I should pick something else to wear? Or maybe even put on some shape wear…

“My god.”

I turn, finding Grant standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a black tux similar to the one he wore when we got married. He looks stunning. I, on the other hand, look like a whale.

“That bad?”

His eyebrows lift. “Bad? Baby, what are you talking about?”

I gesture to my dress. “I look terrible.”

He closes the distance between us, pulling me into his arms.

“You look so fucking beautiful that it’s taking everything in my power not to lift your skirt and fuck you.” He exhales. “But Somya and Corbin will never forgive me if we’re late. Again.”

I snort before I can stop myself.

“That makes me feel a bit better.”

He looks at me, and then nods, as if he’s decided on something.

“Grant…I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

“Turn around and face the mirror.”

“Grant, we can’t be late…”

He swats my butt hard enough to let me know he’s not going to repeat himself, but not enough to actually hurt.

Sighing, I spin to face the mirror. We make a lovely couple, really. He towers over me by a foot even with the heels that I’m wearing. My dark green dress was chosen because it brings out my eyes, but it’s still too tight around my stomach. I tug at the material, as if it will somehow change how the dress is made. Grant’s hand covers mine, stopping my movement.

“Tell me what you see right now.”

“Grant, you probably don’t want to know what I see.”

“Tell me.”

I exhale and hold his gaze in the mirror.

“I see you and all your perfection. Your bowtie was chosen to match my dress, which I appreciate, but I’m worried my dress is what people will talk about tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t fit me the way it should. It’s too tight around my stomach. If I was thinner, it might be flattering around my baby bump, but because of my weight I just look fat.”

There. I’ve spoken my truth. I exhale, blinking back tears.

Grant asks, “Do you want to know what I see?”

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