Page 50 of Dallas
“She’s younger than me.”
“Yep. My parents divorced, and my father remarried years later. He had a daughter with his second, much younger, wife.”
“What’s her name?”
“Emilia.” He suddenly groans.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’ll want to come to the wedding. I need to call her.”
I realize I know very little about the man I’m marrying in three days. “Do you have any other siblings?”
“No. Just Brody and Emilia. Brody and I were grown and out of the house before Emilia was born, but we stay in touch. More than she’d like.” He chuckles.
“Let me guess, you’re overprotective brothers.”
“Don’t you know it.”
“And your parents?”
“My mother passed a few years ago from cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My father and his wife are in Europe somewhere. I doubt they would be bothered to come to the States for something as trivial as their son’s wedding.”
My breath hitches. “I’m sorry,” I repeat.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. Brody and I are used to it. We’ve been keeping track of Emilia since she turned eighteen. That’s when my father and his wife decided to start enjoying his retirement all over the globe.”
“Where’s Emilia now?”
“In Dallas. She just finished college.”
I snuggle into my man. At least I know a bit more about him. I couldn’t ask him questions about his family before he found out about mine. If I had, he would have asked me the same questions, and I wasn’t prepared to answer them yet. It wouldn’t have been fair.
I close my eyes and take several deep breaths.
I’m getting married on Saturday.
Madness.
Chapter 18
Dallas
* * *
Arianna is exasperated as I guide her into our third jewelry store. According to her, we’ve seen plenty of lovely rings, but I haven’t seen the one I want yet, so we’re still looking.
This time, Arianna pays no attention. She stares at me while I scan the displays. She’s smiling, humoring me, but she isn’t as interested in the set that will adorn her finger for the rest of her life as I am.
Suddenly, I see it and stop. “There. That one.”
The saleswoman opens the case and pulls out the white-gold ring I’ve indicated. It’s got a large round diamond in the middle surrounded by a swirl of smaller diamonds that wrap around the band in an intricate pattern that reminds me of an infinity sign.
I lift it from the velvet pad and hold it up to get a closer look. My girl is still staring at me, not the ring, but when she finally lowers her gaze, her breath catches. She brings a hand to her chest. “Dallas…”
