Page 63 of Deadly Oath

Marie is a hopeless romantic, and that works on her exactly as I’d hoped. Her face softens, and she lets out a small, approving sigh as she turns into Cindy’s driveway.

“That really is a whirlwind,” she says. “But it’s a love story in and of itself. The others aren’t going to buy it quite that easily, though,” she adds with a laugh, and I frown.

“I know. But as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Of course.” Marie takes my hand, getting a longer look at the ring. “It really is beautiful. He picked it out himself?”

“He did.” I can’t help but feel a small burst of pride—the ringisperfect, exactly what I would have wanted, and I’m still amazed that Kian chose so well.

“He’s a keeper, then.” Marie pats my hand, and opens her door. “Well, get ready to explain to everyone else.”

The ring is the focal point of conversation, from the minute I walk in the door. Daphne is the first to notice, which brings everyone else over, asking a flurry of questions about why, when, and how. Daphne seems suitably suspicious of how fast it all happened—which I can understand—and Cindy takes one look at my ring before retreating back to her armchair, her face set in disapproving, jealous lines.

“How soon is the wedding?” Daphne asks. “It’s going to be a long engagement, right?”

I shake my head, and immediately hear Cindy’s grunt from where she’s sitting. “We don’t want to wait longer than we have to to be married,” I say, trying to put as romantic of a spin on it as I can. “We’re sure, so why put it off?”

“Tomakesure?” Daphne suggests tactfully. “There’s a lot that goes into a marriage. Maybe it would be good to let things settle a little, just to be certain?—”

“I am certain,” I tell her firmly, and I hope that my voice doesn’t waver. “Really, I am. We’re going to get married as soon as I can arrange everything.”

“She needs a dress,” Marie says decisively. “What if we go onSaturday to a shop in Louisville? I can talk Greg into watching the kids for an afternoon. Daphne, you should come along with us.”

The other women start making excuses—plans with children on the weekend, date nights, but I’m fine with that. I don’t really want more than Marie and Daphne there, anyway.

“Why bother?” Cindy snorts. “You’ll be signing divorce papers as fast as you jumped into his bed and got him down on one knee, at this rate.”

“This is why you’re not invited,” Marie shoots back. “How does that sound, Sabrina? Saturday in Louisville?”

I look at her, at Daphne, standing there like a shield against the disapproval of everyone else in the room, and I feel a pang of guilt that I’m not being entirely honest with them. I wonder what would happen if I just told the whole truth, right here, right now. But the way my stomach floods with nausea tells me that I can’t. Besides, Iliterallycan’t. Caldwell was very clear about that.

“That sounds perfect,” I tell them both. And I feel a flutter of excitement, as I think about picking out a wedding dress.

This might not be exactly the wedding I expected I’d have. But I can’t help but think that, in so many ways, it’s going to be better.

—

My excitementon Saturday is slightly dimmed by the fact that I’ve barely heard from Kian since he brought me the ring, and I haven’t seen him at all. The texts I’ve sent him were at first responded to with short, brief messages, and when I questioned him about it and asked why he didn’t want to come over, he said that he wanted to give us space between now and our wedding. To make it seemmore special.

He said he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of me if he came over, or if we went out, and that he wanted to wait until our wedding night to have sex again. To make it mean something. And while I fully believe that if we saw each other, it would end with us both in bed, something about what he’s saying doesn’t fully sit right with me.

It feels off, although I can’t put my finger on it. That same instinct that tried to warn me away from saying yes to the proposal is there again, whispering in the back of my head that something isn’t right.

Marie would tell me to delay it, if I told her. Daphne would probably suggest calling it off altogether. But I don’t want that. Every time I think of breaking things off with Kian, I feel that longing for him, that feeling that, in time, this could become something real. That the seeds of love are there, and that even if we’re making these vows prematurely out of a need for my protection, it might have happened anyway, in time.

As we drive into Louisville—Daphne agreed to drive, so that Greg could use the minivan to take the children out, so the three of us are crammed into her small sedan—I feel a flurry of excitement taking over my misgivings. I haven’t gone out shopping like this since I was taken away from Chicago, and the idea of trying on beautiful dresses, of spending a day looking for the perfect one, gives me a rush.

Daphne said she knew of the perfect place to start, and she pulls up in front of a small, whitewash-brick building with a pretty black iron door and windows full of bridal gowns. “I made appointments,” she explains. “At a couple of different places. You’re new here and Marie repurposed her mother’s gown, so I thought I might be the best one to choose where we went.”

“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

“Everyone loves a wedding,” Daphne says with a smile. “Except Cindy, apparently.”

We all laugh at that, as we walk into the store, and the bell over the door chimes, bringing a short blonde woman from the back to help us.

“Sabrina?” she asks, looking our group over, and I step forward. “Congratulations. When is the big day?”

“Soon,” I say with a small laugh. “We thought we’d see how long a dress will take, first.”

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