Page 64 of Trash the Dress

He kisses my forehead and leaves me in his office. He printed some of our pictures from the maternity session. I’m still in awe. In these pictures, we look so happy. We look like two people who are madly in love and have created a new life filled with it.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to stave off the sting and threat of tears. My fear is that I want to marry him more than anything, and I hope he wants that too, but what if he doesn’t? What if we crash and burn? It’s not just us to consider. The stakes of those risks are much higher. But I know the greater the risk, the greater the reward…also the greater the fall if things go badly.

My phone beeps with an incoming email. I’ve been talking to a new client the past few days about designing her home here in Greendale Valley. I’m not sure how she found me, but I’m grateful for the distraction of work. I love interior design. Getting to help a client express their tastes when they don’t know where or how to start gives me a sense of satisfaction. Zander has an eye for telling stories through his lens, I have an eye for design. What pulls a room…a home together.

Her email is asking if we can meet this evening at about seven. She’s coming in from out of town and wants to get the initial layout and budget worked up. I respond and tell her I can meet her. Then she sends the address.

Grateful for work close to where I’m calling home these days, I take this as I sign I’m where I need to be after all.

“Hey,sunshine. What do you want to eat?” Zander asks when I approach him at the bar. His waitress, Gabby, sees me and smiles politely. It’s still not warm but much better than when this journey with Zander began.

“My sugar was a little high after lunch earlier, so maybe just water and a hamburger without the bun. As bad as I want fries with ketchup, I should probably have sweet potato instead, and maybe a small salad. Can you do that?”

He leans over the bar and kisses my lips. “I’m your guy,” he says with a wink.

“But before you fix anything, I’m meeting a client in twenty minutes. I’ll be back after that,” I tell him before he can make it to the kitchen doors.

He glances at me with furrowed brows. “You’re meeting a client tonight? As in here in Greendale Valley?”

“Yes. I’ve been emailing back and forth with her for a few days,” I answer. Not entirely sure where his resistance is coming from.

“Is that strange to be meeting a client this late? Especially when you’re just weeks shy of delivery?”

“Not really. Zander. We’re drawing up an initial design and going over her budget. It’s just a meeting. She knows I’m about to be on leave for a few months.”

“Who is your client?” he asks.

“Her name is Marie Sanders.”

His eyes narrow. “Never heard of her. Maybe I should come with you.”

He walks around the bar to where I stand, and I put my palm on his chest to stop him. “Not a chance. I’m fine. This will be a quick meeting. Thirty minutes to an hour tops. And just because you haven’t heard of her doesn’t mean anything. Greendale Valley is growing if you haven’t noticed. And you don’t have to be from here to want to live here.”

He kisses my nose before backing away. “You win, sunshine. But have your phone on you and come back for your dinner. It’ll be ready.”

“Ms. Sanders?It’s Scarlett Shepard, your interior designer.”

Nothing but silence greets me.

“Hello?”

The door opened when I knocked, so I went into the living room. I finally hear what sounds like a printer down the hall, so I call out again. “Ms. Sanders?”

Footsteps echo down the hall and my smile drops when Marie Sanders comes into view holding papers in her hand. It’s not Marie at all, it’s Vivian.

She approaches me with a devious grin on her flawless face. “Hello, Scarlett. So good to see you again.”

“What do you want, Vivian?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“I thought we could talk one more time. Looks like you’re going to have the baby any day now. And I hear it’s a boy. Congratulations are in order. Bravo,” she says and claps her hands slowly after tucking the papers under her arm.

“We have nothing to talk about,” I say and turn to leave. She reaches for my arm, and I jerk away from her. “Get your hands off me.”

I walk toward the front door, but her words stop me. “You know he never told me no either.”

I freeze. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was watching you take your little photo shoot. He’s doing and saying what he thinks he has to. He doesn’t want to lose his son.”

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