“This is the one,” I say instead, and her expression shifts into a broad smile.
“I knew it was.”
Lily leads us back in front of the mirror, and hands me a bouquet of white roses and greenery, just like what I told Brooke I wanted, and fastens a long veil to my crown.
This dress is gorgeous. And it looks gorgeous on me.
I examine myself in the mirror again, this time with the words Wren said outside replaying in my mind and settling somewhere deep in my heart.
Yes, I’m doing this for Aunt Dahlia. Yes, I want to embrace this day as the start of a new chapter, of going after what I want.
But it’s something else Wren said that’s ringing louder in my mind, drowning everything else out.
I think Jett is team Poppy, too.
An image flashes in my mind. It lingers for only a split second, but it was there, and it sent a ripple of excitement fluttering through my core. I try my best to stifle it.
But as much as I can tell myself this isn’t real, I can’t stop thinking about the look on Jett’s face when he sees me walking down the aisle.
CHAPTER 21
POPPY
WREN
Happy Wedding Day! I’ll be down to your suite soon to get ready.
I sendher a quick kiss-y face emoji back.
Then, I set my phone down on the counter and look at myself in the mirror of the lavish hotel bathroom.
The room alone probably costs more per night than most people’s rent.
Jett insisted that I have an entire suite to get ready in on my wedding day, even though it will only be Wren and I here for the morning.
It wasn’t worth the risk having anyone else finding out about the wedding being a complete and utter sham. So, there’s no makeup artists, no hair stylists, and certainly no photographers allowed in my room this morning. All against Brooke’s will.
We argued about it for a while before Jett stepped in and told Brooke to back off. That if I want privacy on themorning of my wedding, I can have it. The rush of heat between my legs felt the same as when he punched that waiter in the face, my body responding to Jett’s protective side. He only seems to show that side of himself for me.
I run my blow-dryer brush through my short brown hair. It’s not like a stylist would be able to do anything spectacular with it anyway. It hardly comes down to my chin. All I can do is brush it through with the heated round brush, adding some volume and a flip where it curls around under my ear.
Then, I tuck and pin my hair back with the tiny pearl adorned clips. They were on my bed when I checked into the hotel room, along with an envelope containing a note from Jett. I know Brooke probably picked them out for him to give me, but seeing my name in his scratchy print, reminding me that we’re in this together, and it settled the nerves buzzing beneath my skin.
Wren can help me with my makeup. Though, I told her under no circumstances am I wearing a bold red lip like she prefers. And I’m wearing my favourite gold cat earrings. They remind me of Cordelia, playing with the balls of yarn I leave lying around my apartment.
I wish she could be here today, though she made herself quite at home when I dropped her off at Jett’s last night.
Once I’m satisfied with my appearance, I take my dress off the hanger and slip it on over the white lace lingerie set I selected. I silently curse myself for banishing anyone and everyone from my room today, now that it’s time to do up the long line of delicate buttons that secure the dress at the back.
There’s a soft knock on the door to my suite, and I call for whoever it is to come in.
Probably Wren.
But when I wander out of the bathroom, holding the dress up at the front and getting ready to ask Wren for her help, it’s Jett that I nearly walk right into.
“What are you doing?” I exclaim, clutching the dress to the front of my body. “We aren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding,” I hiss, before realizing that all the traditional superstitions probably don’t apply here.
But once I see Jett, my eyes rake over him, taking in the sight of his perfectly tailored black suit. It fits him everywhere that counts. His hair has been trimmed, not the floppy raggedy waves I’m used to seeing on him. It’s been pushed back with gel, just enough that it still looks soft, and I want to run my fingers through it.
