“If I wanted to keep this ring for myself, I would have. I chose to include it in the box, just like you chose the ring. It’s yours,” I insist, taking her hand into mine, slowly sliding the ring onto her finger, and admiring how perfectly it fits.
She clutches her hand close to her chest. “I’ll protect it with my whole heart. I promise.”
My throat tightens as I struggle to find a response. “Well, now my parents will be there at our wedding. Not exactly how I expected but…”
Her eyes meet mine, carrying the same pain. “I can’t sayI’ve thought much about what my wedding would look like until recently, but one thing I did always think about was my father walking me down the aisle. I guess now I’ll be walking alone, since I have no one left?—”
“You have me.” I reach over, gently bringing her into my arms. “You have me. And together we’ll get through this. Through anything.”
To my surprise, instead of pushing back, she tucks her head into my chest and lets me run my fingers through her hair. Her grip on my waist tightens as she whispers, “Together.”
25
ZAHRA
“Am I making a mistake?” I gasp, hands shaking as I take in my reflection in the mirror. I’d opted for simple makeup topped up with a burgundy lipstick. The loose waves of my hair fall down my back as I grip my white silk robe so tight my knuckles turn white.
“Wow. Are you having cold feet? This might be the first normal reaction you’ve had about getting married.” Samirah smirks, placing the garment bag containing my dress on the couch. She walks up behind me and looks at me in the mirror. “You wouldn’t be the first runaway bride in history, so you say the word and I’ll sneak you out.”
Her tone is light but I can tell she’s serious. Samirah has always been there for me, and I know my wedding day will be no exception.
I shake my head, dragging my sweaty hands down my thighs. “I won’t run away. I don’t want to.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You don’t? Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just know that my heart’s racing, I canbarely breathe, and my hands are so damn sweaty.” I groan. “I’m not having a panic attack though. I know what those feel like, and this is not it. I just feel on edge.”
Samirah eyes me up and down, tapping a finger on her chin when a mischievous glint comes over her eyes. “Dare I say this could be butterflies?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.” That would be insane. Had Declan and I gotten closer over the past few weeks? Sure. With how much time we’d been spending together, it was practically inevitable that we’d become friends, but that’s where it ended.
“Hmm, you’re being a little defensive here…”
“No. I’m not. I’m being honest. Any feelings I have for Declan are strictly platonic. And they need to stay that way. Friendships are risky enough in our line of work. Loving someone gets you a one-way ticket to the execution block.” I shrug, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve.
Samirah winces. “Harsh.”
“Harsh, but true. It’s why my father sent me away when I was a kid. Kept my identity hidden. He loved me so much, he knew that the second any of his enemies found me, I’d be either killed on the spot or used as a bartering tool. His love for me made him weak. And you can’t be weak as a boss.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I remember my dad wouldn’t be here to see me today, wouldn’t be standing by my side.
Samirah vehemently shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Your father’s love for you wasn’t a weakness. It was his greatest strength, and probably the only thing that kept him grounded. Being a boss is grueling. The danger you’re put in, the tough decisions you have to make, the lives you have to take. All of those are enough to make a person numb to it all, but your father never did. He stayed grounded. Tried to live life ashonestly as he could, despite who he was. And he did that because of you. He did that because he loved you and wanted better for you. Love isn’t weakness. It’s the only thing that has the power to heal all the pain the world hurls at us.”
My vision starts to blur as tears fill my eyes. Dammit. I can’t even remember the last time I cried. Probably my father’s funeral. “You’re turning me into a pile of mush. I’m going to ruin my makeup.” I laugh, deflecting from the heaviness that’s filled the room.
“You better not. I spent so long making sure you look perfect, not that you don’t already. Declan won’t know what hit him.” She beams, tucking a loose wave behind my ear.
“I doubt it. He’s used to being around pretty women.” I shrug.
“So loud and so wrong. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you. I’m willing to bet the second Declan sees you, he’s going to drag you into a closet and beg you to let him have his way.”
“‘Have his way?’What century are we in?” I snort.
“You can make fun of me all you want, but I know deep down you hope I’m right.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, Samirah unzips the garment bag and reveals my dress: A lace ball gown that cinches at my waist, with off-the-shoulder sleeves, and embroidered with the most delicate and intricate flower design I’d ever seen.
“Samirah,” I breathe out in awe, chills running down my spine.
“I take it, you approve?” She places a hand on her hip, proud.
“Approve? This is so incredibly stunning, any words I say won’t do it justice. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I take in the dress again, tracing my fingers along the delicate lace.
