Page 67 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

“Because you’re a romantic. And I never have been.”

Maren laughed. “I think you probably are a secret romantic.”

“Why do you think that?”

“The dress that you chose is the definition of a princess wedding gown.”

“It is the definition of a dress that wasn’t going to get too tight for me in a couple of weeks between when I bought it and today.”

“Sure.”

The annoying thing was her sister was right. It was difficult not to feel romantic.

They were getting married in a beautiful chapel down in the village, and she happened to know for a fact that the entire thing had been decorated with white lights and manzanita bows that made the entire thing look like something out ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream.

She would’ve said that she did not believe in the romance of weddings, or fairies, but being in Scotland with Ewan made her feel slightly different.

He hadn’t touched her, though.

In the two weeks since he had returned, he had not touched her.

He had taken her to Paris, they had bought a dress. He had taken her to the Musée d’Orsay and he had shown her something so beautiful she did not think that she would ever recover from it. And he had not touched her.

She didn’t understand why. He didn’t want her anymore. She was getting fairly round with the baby, and it was entirely possible he wasn’t attracted to the shape of a pregnant body.

That made her feel sad, but she supposed it was understandable. People had the taste that they had, after all.

As if she hadn’t made all kinds of proclamations when she had said she would marry him. About not wanting things to be physical. She had to. But it felt like things were shifting between them.

Why do you think that?

She stood there and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The woman there was unrecognizable. She had her natural hair color. Something she saw so rarely that it just didn’t feel like hers.

She was wearing a wedding gown. She was pregnant. She had makeup on that was designed to highlight her features, not shift them into something else.

She was Jessie. She supposed.

And she had never really been all that familiar with Jessie.

By cutting her emotions off, she’d cut herself off with it.

She’d done it to be safe. He’d challenged that, and at first, she’d been afraid of it. At first, she’d gone back and forth, wanting it but fearing it all the same.

But then she’d seen him. And he’d seen her.

And somehow it was helping her see herself anew.

She walked up to the mirror without thinking and touched it, her finger pressed against the reflection of her own hand.

“Are you okay?” Maren asked.

She jumped and took a step backward. “Yes. I’m fine. We should probably head to the church.”

“Probably,” Maren agreed.

It was going to be a huge and highly publicized event because in the time since they had announced their engagement, the headlines all over the world had exploded. There was going to be a made-for-TV movie about their romance. Well, not their romance, but one just like it. About a man who loses his estate in a poker game, and then falls madly in love with the woman who won it.

A great story, she thought. But not...theirs.

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