“This is the moment for champagne.”
She laughs. “But in lieu of that, how about looking like a beauty queen all-star?”
“Not the small duckling?”
Her brows furrow, and she turns serious. “Babe, you’ve never been that. That was always insecure kids who were threatened by you and felt that bringing you down made them bigger than they actually were. You’ve always outshone them, and you still do.”
That makes another tear fall. “I always do.”
“Yes. I’m so glad you finally see it.”
I sniffle. “I wish I had seen it sooner. Believed it when you all told me. Then maybe I wouldn’t have stayed with Josh as long as I did, and then I wouldn’t be here, pregnant and about to marry Aston.”
“No going back in time. Only moving forward after we learn from our past.”
“I love you.”
“Ditto.”
I get a wink before Braelyn returns to my hair. Once that’sdone, I step into my heels. Killer heels. Five-and-a-half-inch bitches.
I’m ready to marry Aston Hughes. Come what may.
17
ASTON
“Were you able to get in touch with Micha?” Alden asks, handing me my suit jacket.
The rings I bought burn a hole in my pocket, and I think I might have gone too far with the ones I bought for Skylar.
“No. We’ve been playing phone tag. This isn’t exactly something I can text him.”
“Why don’t you have Skylar talk to him?”
I adjust my tie only to untie it and start again. “Because it has to come from me.”
“What are you even going to tell him?”
I catch Alden in the reflection of the mirror, annoyed that he’s asking me ten thousand stupid questions right now. At least we’re alone here, City Hall all but closed for the day.
“What do you mean? I’m going to tell him I married his sister and hope he doesn’t fly home from Sudan to kick my ass.”
“Why would he kick your ass? You’re helping Skylar, and you’re not the one who got her pregnant.”
“I know.” This fucking tie. I adjust it again, but it still looks like shit.
“Then you have nothing to worry about unless…”
“Unless what?” I bark. “And why can’t I get this fucking tie to work?”
“Oh shit, man. You like her,” he states, his voice climbing.
“What?” I almost laugh at that. Almost. “You’re high.”
He straightens, and I can feel him staring at my reflection from behind me. “You do. Why else would you be like this? You’re the most in control, always calm under pressure man I know. You’re a trauma surgeon for children. You never lose your cool or your shit, but that’s what you’re doing now.”
I work the tie, the silk feeling like it’s burning my hands with every flip and knot. “Do you have a point, or are you just being an asshole?”
