Page 29 of Why Not Forever?

Mom tries to convince me to try a few more on, but I refuse. I don’t want to put on something else. Why keep going when we’ve already found exactly what I want?

I change out of the dress and back into my regular clothes. Because it’s not a wedding dress and not a sample, I can take it—and the hair accessories—home today. The dress fits almost perfectly as-is, but I plan to bring it to my tailor to have a couple adjustments made. After I’ve paid for everything, we go out for lunch. Mom decides not to join us, her way of protesting the choice I made. It doesn’t matter. The rest of us have an excellent time.

When I get home, I send a text to Tanner.

Me

I found my dress. Are you going to be mad that it’s a little unconventional?

He surprises me, responding right away when I know he’s at work.

Tanner

Did you have fun and do you love it?

Me

I did and I do.

Tanner

That’s all that matters.

His response warms my heart and I’m smiling like an idiot for much longer than I have any right to be. It’s not until much later, when I’m lying in bed, trying to sleep, that a thought occurs to me.

This is exactly how I want to look as a bride. What happens in the future, after this business deal of a relationship is over and I want to get married again?

Chapter 11

Tanner

WhenIwalkintoBlue Vista’s Crescent Beach location, I’m impressed. I hadn’t felt the need to see it before the wedding, trusting that Vic and her crew know what they’re doing when it comes to wedding venues, and I have to say, I was right.

Wyatt walks in behind me and gives a low whistle as we take in the reception area.

“I just want to point out that your wifeownsthis,” he says.

It’s exactly what I’m thinking and all my insecurities about money are telling me exactly how much I don’t deserve her.

“A quarter of it,” I say. “And she’s not my wife yet.”

I’d be lying if I said a part of me isn’t nervous she’s not actually going to go through with this wedding. Vic isn’t the most outwardly emotional person, but I remember her stack of books on her bedside table years ago. All of them were romances. Of course, her reading tastes could have changed over the past seven and a half years, but I remember how much of a romantic she used to be.

People move around the space, ensuring each table is set exactly the same: white tablecloths and plates with black cloth napkins and gold cutlery. In the centre of each table is a black vase with white roses tied together with gold ribbon.

The space is big enough to hold two hundred and fifty guests—half the size of their Vancouver location—but you can walk out the glass doors, which are currently open wide, directly onto Crescent Beach. The beach itself isn’t private, so there are people out there as well, but the beach in Vancouver isn’t private either. There’s another set of glass doors on the far side of the room leading to a huge patio where the ceremony will take place. The walls are a creamy white and the hardwood floors are a golden brown that almost matches the sand outside.

“Hey, guys,” Derek says as he comes toward us. “What do you think? Looks pretty good, right?”

“It’s amazing,” I say.

“We bought two lots. There were restaurants here before. We had the one next door torn down, then blew out that wall and expanded this space. Let me show you outside.”

He leads us to the open glass doors. “These were Spencer’s idea,” he says as we pass them. “He has doors like this at his apartment that he can open so his deck can become part of his living room.”

“It’s really smart,” I say. “Kind of brings the beach inside.”

Derek nods. “Exactly. Over here is where you’ll get married.”

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