Page 36 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
“Fine,” Matt said eventually, faux-exasperation written all over his face. “But you’re taking a nap after. No exceptions.”
“Daaaaa—”
“Nope,” Matt smirked, putting a finger to Zach’s lips to shush him. “You were up earlier than usual,andyou want to exhaust yourself in the pool. That definitely warrants a nap.”
————
I spent the morning in the pool with Zach, both of us calling it quits as the sun started to reach its highest point in the sky. But only one of us took a nap willingly.
Matt woke me up around one-thirty in the afternoon with a quick knock on my door and an announcement that there werespare dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on offer as well as pan-seared snapper, but my stomach had churned the moment I’d open my eyes and looked at that goddamn dress.
The last dress.
Emerald.
I’d thought it was hilarious when I’d tried it on at Regale. I’d stepped out of the fitting room with it pinned in place and nearly laughed myself sick at how good it looked — tight in every right place, a slit up the side that bordered on illegal, and a neckline that plunged so deep it almost reached the bottom of my sternum. It had been a joke. A petty one, one with a visual punchline to Ryan’s specific brand of pain.
It was a dress that looked like it had been stitched by the devil himself, in the same jewel tone as the engagement ring I’d asked Ryan for.
The one I’d never gotten.
But now, hanging there against the bathroom door, it didn’t feel clever anymore. It didn’t feel like power. It felt more like a dare I wasn’t sure I had the guts to follow through on, like I’d invited myself onto a stage I didn’t want to be on anymore.
But the bitter part of me, the sharp-edged and exhausted and angry version of me, whispered that I had to wear it. If I didn’t, he won — if I let myself hide, if I made myself disappear tonight, then Ryan and Lauren got everything they wanted.
A wedding without consequence.
An affair wrapped up in gossamer and roses and far too much gold.
Fuck him.
Every piece was perfect by the time I’d finished. My hair, down and flowing tonight, pinned away from my face and flowing down my back. My makeup, done and removed and redone, flawless, sharp. My jewelry, bought on Matt’s card, goldand perfectly complementary, with two sharp points hanging from my ears. My heels, difficult to walk in.
I looked like I was dressed to kill.
When I finally emerged from my room, Margot was waiting by the door in her royal blue midi dress, the fabric sleek and pressed and starched, her grey hair swooped back in a styled bun. Zach stood beside her with a stick of string cheese hanging out of his mouth, his back flopped dramatically against the door, looking absolutelyadorablein his tiny black suit and emerald, green tie.
Apparently, Matt was color coordinating me with hiskid, now, too.
“Look at you!” I grinned, crossing the space and squatting down beside him with about as much balance as a baby learning to walk. I adjusted his collar, tucking it back under his little jacket where it had popped out.
Zach wrapped his hand around the string cheese and bit down. “I look like a grown-up,” he grumbled.
“Maybe, but you’ll be the best-dressed one there,” I chirped, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear. I looked up at Margot, her brows halfway up her forehead as she glanced down at me in my dress. “Are we all sitting together at the ceremony?”
“You and Matt are,” she said. “I’ll be at the back with the little terror, here, in case he tries to make a scene. He’s notquiteold enough to trust him to sit through the vows.”
I huffed out a breath. “Wish I had that excuse.” I stood on shaky legs, glancing back toward the living room, looking for Matt — but the rest of the villa was silent.
“He had to go down there a little earlier,” Margot said. “We’re meeting him. Ryan called about something-or-other.”
My stomach turned. It shouldn’t have bothered me, having to walk in without Matt by my side, but itdid. The thought of being seen here without him felt like walking into a slaughterhouseas a fucking cow. “Okay,” I swallowed, trying to cover the discomfort prickling the back of my neck.
We walked in sync to the main building, other guests fluttering past in oranges, pinks, and creams that looked more in line with a sunset than a ridiculously overpriced wedding venue dripping in gold. Zach babbled on about triceratops and how their brains were roughly the size of limes as Margot and I held his hands on either side, occasionally swinging him with a rowdy giggle.
But I paused when I heard it.
The low hum of voices came from the terrace, just beyond the glass door and down near the beach —no. Not just voices, butmen; the top end of their anger cut off through the glass, leaving nothing but the bitter bass.
