Page 84 of Wallflower
“Mm-hm. I know.”
I angle her toward the hall mirror and brush a finger along her collarbone, smiling crookedly at the goosebumps. “There’s just one thing missing.”
Violet glances down at her dress, presses an open palm to her chest, and carefully touches her hair. “I don’t think I could handle anymore, Chord. This is already too much. I—”
I set a soft finger to her lips. “Just one more small thing. I promise.”
I pick up the first velvet box on the hall table. It’s a little larger than my hand, and I set in on my palm and hold it up, but I don’t open it yet.
Violet shakes her head and stares at the box like there’s a tiny wild animal inside what is clearly a jewelry box. “I can’t,” she says. “I don’t deserve it.”
“You deserve the world, and I’m going to do my best to give it to you, but this…” I tap the box. “I got this on loan for tonight, so don’t worry about anything other than enjoying it, okay?”
I press the latch, and the lid hinges open, revealing a sparkling diamond pendant inside. Violet gasps.
“Chord. It’s beautiful, but it must be worth a fortune. I can’t wear this.”
“It’s not half as stunning as you or worth a fraction of what you bring to my life. And yes. You can.”
With hesitant fingers, Violet reaches in and touches the necklace. The temptation is too much, and I snap the lid down like that iconic scene inPretty Woman. The box bites her fingertips, and Violet jerks back before bursting into laughter.
“You did not just do that!”
I warm at the joy in her expression. “I couldn’t help it. Here.” I set the box on the hall table and turn her to face the mirror above it. She watches in the reflection as I put the necklace around her throat, my fingers brushing her skin as I fasten it at the back of her neck. It’s a simple piece—elegant and understated, just like Violet—and she runs a light touch over the diamond as I reach past her for the second box. I slide out a matching ring, press myself against Violet’s back, and loop my arms around her to find her right hand. I slide the ring onto her finger as she watches it settle into place.
“This feels like a dream,” she murmurs, gazing at the ring before letting her eyes drift shut. “And I don’t want to wake up.”
I kiss the side of her neck as I slide a hand over her hip. “It’s not a dream, which means it never has to end.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
“I’m sure.” I stand by her side like those tuxes in her sketchbook and slip her hand into the crook of my elbow. “And we’ve only just begun.”
thirty-two
Violet
DAY 53 AT SILVER LEAF... ONLY 33 TO GO
As the limousine slowsand joins the queue of cars lined up outside the gala venue, Chord squeezes my hand and peers out his tinted window. “We’re almost there. Are you ready?”
Butterflies the size of birds beat in my stomach and chest, and my dress is suddenly too tight.Mydress. I’m about to walk onto a red carpet wearing a gown thatIdesigned. People are going to look at me. They’re going to ask who I’m wearing. I’ll tell them it’s my own, and they’re going to judge it. They’ll judgeme, and in my experience, people aren’t always kind.
Chord ducks his head to meet my eyes, and I realize I’ve been staring blankly into the distance. “Are you okay?”
“I…”
The limousine pulls to a final stop and Chord picks up a handset to tell the driver to wait before he gets out to open our door. Then he turns back to me, sincerity large in his cobalt eyes.
“I know you can do this.” He brushes my hand in soothing sweeps. “But the decision to walk into this gala tonight is yours. We don’t have to get out of the car if you don’t want to.”
I press my lips together, the smooth texture of my nude lipstick anchoring me to the present, and I admire Chord for the hundredth time tonight. He is the most effortlessly sexy man I’ve ever seen. The form-fitted suit that hints at the hard, athletic body underneath. The smooth, chiseled jaw and full mouth. The hands—the large, confident hands. That certain smile he only shares with me. The eyes that I once thought were so cold and now set my soul on fire.
I don’t want to be scared for the rest of my life.
Am I ready?
No.
