Page 102 of Rumor Has It

This afternoon, a courier delivered a red box from Cartier containing exquisite teardrop earrings and a matching platinum and twenty-three karat diamond necklace It is as dainty slipping between my fingers as it is imposing wearing.

The delicate set had to have cost a fortune. Far more than I make in three to four years combined. I told Isaiah he went overboard. Doing the honors of slipping it around my neck, he responded that it made up for the rectangle of plastic on a nylon rope he gave me at Christmas, which is my favorite gift I’ve ever received.

I haven’t taken either the necklace or the earrings off since. Although it’s because I’m petrified I’ll misplace them.

The makeup artist is packing up her case as Vespa makes another round, rattling off more nuances I should be aware of.

I’m beginning to think ramping my anxiety is an intentional game she’s playing and Vespa wants me to fail.

“Just smile,” Bellamy repeats. She’s poised, seated on the edge of the bed next to Rhiannon.

Ruched at the waistline, the base of my cousin’s strapless dress is tawny color and the black overlay makes it look like she’s nude underneath. It’s not funeral wear, but interesting nonetheless that Rhiannon’s apparel is darker than mine.

Her cell chimes with an incoming text.

Rhiannon flips it over to read. “Uncle Cris is waiting for me in the lobby.”

“Is it weird you’re being photographed tonight instead of being the photographer?” I ask, rising on shaky legs, and quadruple checking the earrings are still dangling from my lobes.

“No. I heard Isaiah Roomer’s girlfriend was making her first public appearance. Nobody is going to want a picture of li’l ol’ me.” She puts her phone inside her clutch. “It would have been a coup to have been able to bring a better camera than what fits in this bag, though. I’m going to need Uncle Cris to invite some celebs I expect to see tonight to his studio. Otherwise, I’ll never cross them off my list.”

“I thought I topped your bucket list?” Isaiah grins from the doorway. Gatlin stands behind him, ready to go.

Simultaneous matching low moans directed at our men escape Bellamy and me. The DJ and the country crooner are so hot in their formalwear, it’s like watching a pat of butter melt on a steamy biscuit.

Isaiah is clean shaven. His stylist trimmed his sex-styled hair and the cocky grin on his face indicates he’s aware of how good he looks. He approaches me with a confident swagger.

I’m salivating over a man, wanting as much to enjoy the way his broad shoulders fill out the suit jacket as I want to strip him out of it. And his shirt. And his pants.

What’s more is, he’s mine.

Isaiah is one-hundred percent committed. I’ve never experienced this with anyone else I’ve dated. I don’t worry who this absolute stud is taking to bed because the only times Isaiah refuses to lie with me are the nights our baby girl and I are peacefully sleeping. And he makes up for not slipping into our room by slipping inside me as soon as we’re alone.

I am the luckiest girl on the planet. I adore the way he cares for me and I fall deeper in love with Isaiah every moment of the day.

I love our life. I’d love it without the gown or the diamonds. I’d love for our every day to be nothing but me, Aria, Isaiah, and his guitar.

It’s crazy to think about the experiences I would have given up, living an amazing life on a cramped tour bus, if he’d left Kingsbrier and I stayed in my comfort zone.

Maybe Gatlin’s older brother, Dash, is onto something?

Isaiah’s knuckles caress my cheek, careful not to move a curled lock out of place.

“I can’t wait to show you to the world. You’re stunning, chou.”

Deep in my bones, I feel like the version of perfection he tells me I am whenever he sees me up to my elbows in dough and covered in a fine layer of flour.

I run my palms over his broad shoulders and down his chest. With shaky hands, I straighten his already straight tie.

He leans in to whisper so no one hears, “I don’t think you comprehend the effort it takes for me to be a gentleman when your family is around.”

I suck in a breath, and shift in my high heels, my thighs rubbing together.

“The front-row seat for the lovey-dovey is great. I’ll have one helluva speech if you ever get hitched, but tick-tock, y’all.” Gatlin taps his watch.

“Gatlin! You’re ruining their moment!” Bellamy slaps her husband in the gut.

“Listen, we’ve got a car waiting downstairs.” He nudges his wife toward the doorway.

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