Page 37 of Wait for You

This time, her mother was the one who gasped. Her father, on the other hand, wore a smile that softened the stern corners of his mouth. “Then you have my consent.” AtSeñorSanchez’s announcement, her mother looked ready to faint. He gripped her arm as they headed for the door. “We’ll let you two talk.”

Imogen didn’t know what had changed her father’s mind about Mat, but she wasn’t about to argue the point. Not when it went in her favor.

“Gen?”

When the door closed behind her parents, she gave Mat her full attention.

His expression still spoke of uncertainty. She reached for his hand and clasped their fingers together as he said, “I love you, but I get it if you ain’t ready to give me another chance. I’ll wait for you. Even if it’sfive more years, ten, a lifetime. Whatever it takes.” His thumb rubbed across the spot where a ring would go. Mat’s gaze lingered there before meeting her eyes. The promise behind the gesture was like a salve, healing the hurts of the past with its unbelievable sweetness. “Because you’re it for me.”

“I’m done waiting,vaquero.” She may have been tired, but the happiness filling her up was its own form of energy. With her cowboy at her side, she could tackle any trail, no matter how treacherous. “I love you, and I meant what I said. I want to marry you.”

Mischief returned to Mat’s smile. “Then I do believe you have yourself a deal, princess.”

EPILOGUE

Six Months Later

Imogen

Thirty-six bobby pins secured her hair. Imogen was confident of the number because she’d counted each one the hairdresser had stabbed into her head. By sixteen, she’d thought they’d been almost finished, but the woman had pushed her glasses up her nose, squinched her eyes in concentration, and proceeded to add twenty more. It had taken over half an hour, but she’d tied Imogen’s hair into an elaborate updo, leaving a wave of bangs to frame her face.

Whatever the woman had sprayed on them managed to make them itchy, and Imogen had to fight the urge to scratch her forehead. It didn’t help her nerves that everyone bustled around her. Her bedroom at her parent’s mansion had become her bridal suite. The four-poster bed was strewn with purses, shawls, and who knows what. Women cluttered the sitting area, sipping champagne cocktails and talking about things she cared little about, like what Missy Covington wore to the ball last week.

Today’s my wedding day.

Just thinking that sent butterflies swirling through her belly. Not because she was nervous about getting married but because part of her was still worried that Mat would change his mind.

She felt like one of those women on reality TV shows who’d agreed to get married without any guarantee that her groom would be waiting when she walked down the aisle. But, she supposed, no one ever really had a guarantee. Even with couples who’d been together for a long time before tying the knot, there was always the possibility one of them would back out.

Imogen sighed and smoothed a hand over her excited stomach. Mat loved her. That she knew for certain, but the thing that had her insides on a rollercoaster loop was the fanfare waiting for them outside. Because of it, she needed reassurance he hadn’t skipped out on her. Although, with all the pomp and circumstance her mother had drummed up, she didn’t think she’d blame him. The ceremony would be held on the lawn in front of the winter garden, and a reception would follow in the ballroom. None of it was for Imogen, not really. She’d leave it behind as long as Mat took her with him this time.

“Put this on,mijita.”

As her mother tried to stick her hand in a lace glove, Imogen snapped. The retinue of women in her space was driving her crazy. After enduring it for the last two hours, she’d tired of being pruned, preened over, and gawked at like a rose at a flower show. She couldn’t handle being dressed like a doll as well.

“Everyone out!” At her shout, seven faces turned to her, frozen in shock. The hairdresser, the stylist, her mother, two aunts, a cousin, and a woman she barely knew from one of her mother’s charities stared wide-eyed as she worked to get herself under control.

Thankfully, her brother barged through the door and broke the tension holding everyone captive. “Hey, Imogen. Aren’t you supposed to be dressed already?”

Emiliano stopped in the center of the room, glancing at the quiet entourage of ladies with a frown. “What’d I miss?”

Imogen strode forward, latching onto her brother’s arm. “Emil, I need you to bring Mat to me.”

“What for? Aren’t you about to—”

“Emil, please!” Unwittingly, she dug her fingernails into his skin.

“Christ! Are you trying to claw my arm off?” He tried to shake her grip, but Imogen held on.

“Emiliano, language!” their mother chastised.

“Sorry, Mother.” He gaveSeñoraSanchez a sheepish grin before glaring down at Imogen, but he must’ve sensed her desperation because his expression softened, and he patted her hand. “Okay,mana. I’ll go get him.”

Finally, she felt like she could breathe easier. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with feeling.

Emiliano left, but Imogen still needed to get rid of everyone else. She tried a more tactful approach this time. “Everyone out, please.” She even smiled with congeniality.

Her mother twisted the lace glove in her hand, her voice ringing with distress. “But the dress!”

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