“I shouldn’t have asked that of you. It was…desperation. I didn’t think. You don’t have to—” The words tangle, fall apart. Shame burns hot under my skin. I can’t even meet his eyes. Because deep down, a part of mewantshim to say yes. A part of me wants this stranger to stay. I look down at my hands, twisting my fingers together. The truth is heavy, but it’s steady. I look up.
“Yes.” Something flickers behind his eyes—respect, maybe, or understanding—and then he throws back the covers and stands.
The duvet pools at his feet, and suddenly there’s just...Trey. Broad shoulders, lean muscle, ink and skin and confidence wrapped up in nothing but black boxers. The sunlight catches the lines of his body, the tattoos dark against tan skin. My gaze betrays me, tracing the curve of his hip before I can stop it.
He smirks, because of course he does. “Mac got you two dresses,” he says, voice lazy and amused. “I didn’t know if you’d want lace or satin, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
My throat tightens. “You...you got me a dress?”
“Baby,” he says, grin tugging at one corner of his mouth, “I got you everything. You’re about to become Mrs. Baker. But don’t thank me—thank Mac. She’s probably wiped out my entire bank account by now.”
My mouth pops open before I can stop it. He chuckles, stepping closer, one hand reaching up to gently close my jaw with his thumb. “I’m joking...well, sort of. She’d have a hard time spending all my money in one night. I think.” He frowns, pretending to actually consider it. “Yeah...probably.” The sound that slips from me almost feels like laughter—small, uncertain, but real.
He tilts his head, eyes softer now. “You want to go downstairs? Get some breakfast, coffee? I know the second I walkout of this room, a tiny blonde is going to pounce on us both. Mainly you. But she’s harmless, I promise. You’re safe with her.”
My brow lifts. “Harmless?”
He grins, grabbing his shirt from the chair. “She can pack a mean right hook.”
I take a step toward him before I even realize I’ve moved. It’s like gravity itself shifts—pulling me into his orbit, into the quiet warmth radiating off his skin. My chest brushes his, and the contact steals my breath.
I should step back. I don’t.
My hand lifts of its own accord, trembling as I place it over his heart. The beat beneath my palm is steady, strong. For a moment, I just stand there, feeling the thud of it echo through my fingertips before my hand drifts higher, sliding up the column of his throat until my fingers curl around the back of his neck.
Trey doesn’t move. He just watches me. Those impossible green eyes pin me in place, like he’s seeing right through every wall I’ve ever built.
“Trey,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this for me? You could marry anyone. You…you don’t need to take on my battles for me. I’d understand if you don’t want to. It’s too much…I, I—”
“I’m sure.”
His answer is quiet, but it lands like a strike of lightning between us. The air changes. Thickens. Neither of us looks away. He lowers his head slightly, his hands finding my hips—fingers curling in just enough to make my pulse trip over itself. My lips part on a shaky exhale. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath ghost across my skin.
I rise up on my toes, drawn higher by something I can’t name. Something reckless and aching. For a suspended heartbeat, it feels inevitable—like the world is holding its breath, waiting for that final inch to disappear between us.
The moment is interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
We both freeze.
Trey’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he exhales a curse under his breath and steps back, running a hand through his hair. My heart is still sprinting. My skin still tingles where he touched me. Somewhere beyond the door, a bright voice rings out—too loud, too cheerful for the hour.
“I heard voices and movement! Rise and shine, Baker and Baker-to-be! We’ve got a wedding to get ready for!”
The words hit like sunlight through glass, scattering the fragile quiet between us. Trey laces his fingers through mine as he crosses the room. His hand is warm—grounding me in a way that makes my chest ache. He pauses at the door, glancing down at me.
“You sure you’re ready?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for anything that comes after this. When he opens the door, the morning light spills in along with a burst of energy in human form.
“Hi! Oh, my gosh! You’re gorgeous!”
“Nuh-uh. You’re not Mac. You’re never this peppy this early. You on meth or something?”
“She’s been to Patty’s, so…basically, yeah.”
A petite blonde blur darts into the room before I can even blink, arms full of bags and boxes. She dumps everything on the bed and spins around, beaming like sunshine itself.
“I’m Kayla,” she says, pointing a thumb at herself, “and I’m this delinquent’s best friend. It’s so nice to meet you!”
