Page 125 of Fire for Effect

“I thought you were about to run,” Griff whispered into my hair.

“I won’t run when you can’t follow,” I said, pulling away just enough to put our foreheads together. “That’s the deal, right? I run, you come after me?”

“Yes, baby,” he said, bringing a finger to my cheek. “I wish I could find the guy who made these,” he tapped a bruise on my cheek. “And return it to him a hundred times over.”

“I think he’s been handled,” I whispered.

He chuckled, lightly, “Sierra told me they lit the place up.”

“It was so pretty,” I said. “Pretty, pretty, fire. Best bonfire of the year.”

“Wait until I take you to my condo, and we see the fireworks over the Potomac at New Years,” he said, a smile on his lips. “It’ll knock your cute little socks off.”

“Who wears socks inside the house?”

“Perverts, obviously.” His smile faded, for just an instant, when he added, “And pretty fireflies who get cold feet.”

I laughed, then he laughed. And he traced the bruises on my face with feather-light fingers. The pain in my bruises seeming to drain away.

“Well,” s His mother’s voice broke in, and we both turned our heads to look at her. “It seems everything is well in hand here.”

Her face looked like she’d bitten on a lemon and smelled a fart at the same time.

But then she looked at the monitors, then back at me. I might have imagined it, but she seemed to soften.

“I expect to see you at the Gala,” she said, her nose so high that it was practically at the ceiling.

“I’ll be there with a guest,” Griff said. “I’ll be bringing my… my…”

He looked at me with desperation in his eyes. I knew him so well, that I understood his stumble. He wanted to announce it – to announce us. The little hamster in his head was trying to figure out if he should scream our engagement to the world, or keep it hidden.

I brought my hand to my cheek - the one with the ring.

He understood the assignment.

“I’m bringing my fiancée,” he finally said.

His mother looked at me, scanning me from head to toe, and she despised me. I knew I looked like a fright. I looked like something a cat dragged in after it batted it around for a while. I was covered in iodine and blood, bandaged, and in clothes at least a couple days old.

But she showed great fortitude, when she straightened and said, “Fine.”

“Uh! Excuse me?” Sierra said, raising her hand, her finger to the sky. “He’ll be bringing two guests.”

Griff and I looked at Sierra. I admired her cajones.

Sierra shamelessly said, “I need an excuse to wear my scarlet Vera Wang, and Wifey there will need someone to help her prepare.” She looked back to Kamilla Griffith and smiled, “He’ll bring two guests.”

This was how I ended up in a room with Sierra as she fussed and gesticulated with a curling iron. The yacht didn’t bob with the waves. It was far too large for that. The steady vibration of the engine beneath our feet lulled me into a feel of almost drowsy relaxation as Sierra fussed about my hair.

“You’re going to look like Audrey Hepburn, but without that ridiculous accent,” Sierra said, floating around in a slinky red dress that made her look like a live action Jessica Rabbit. “Except in silver and white - almost bridal, but not quite. Make that Kristin sit up and look at her replacement… her upgrade.”

“You have our day all planned out,” I chuckled.

“Oh, I have your whole life planned. First, with your wedding, next year in October. You’ll wear Bohemian chic. Real lace, not like a doily, but like…” she placed a finger to her lips. “An effortless royal bride.”

I smiled, not daring to interrupt her as she laid it all out for me.

“Red barn, with gossamer white drapes interspersed with fairy lights that look like fireflies.” Then she stopped, holding out two high healed black stilettos towards me. “And both your parents will be there.”

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