Kelsey chuckled, knowing she was victorious. It was cute seeing him kind of flustered but not backing off. At least not yet. She respected how much he was willing to do for Faith. Not all men, especially brothers, would do this much.
“You can look,” he said finally, relenting with a heavy sigh. “The dress is hanging in her room.”
Kelsey followed him up the stairs.Cute butt.She’d love to see him in a pair of Levi’s jeans. No—she balled her fists—she wouldn’t.
“Did my mom tell you she wanted Faith to wear her wedding dress this time, but Faith said no?”
“She didn’t.” Poor Starr. Many mothers of the bride wanted to pass on their gowns to their daughters. Kelsey’s own mother had a personal collection of wedding gowns, dresses, and even a suit in every style from traditional to sleekly sophisticated from all of her previous marriages, but luckily, Kelsey would never need one. “Perhaps a granddaughter will want to wear Starr’s gown someday.”
“That would definitely make my mom happy.”
A grin tugged on the corners of Kelsey’s mouth. She had to tease him a little. “Or perhaps your bride—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t even think about it.” Will grimaced. “You don’t understand. If my mother got wind of that…”
“She’d have her dress cleaned, pressed, and ready to go.”
Will nodded. “She would want you to find the perfect veil to match.”
“Shoes, too.”
He smiled. “And a coordinating bouquet. You wouldn’t want the flowers to overwhelm the gown,” he said, repeating her earlier lecture back jokingly.
With a laugh, she nudged his arm.
Will opened the door to Faith’s room. Kelsey stepped in and nearly fell over.
She glanced around in surprise—no, shock. Romantic, soft, and fluffy described the room and the furnishings. Three adjectives Kelsey would never have used to describe the fifth-time bride-to-be. Three adjectives that perfectly described Kelsey’s room at her father’s house. “This is Faith’s room?”
Will nodded. “You’re pale. Is something wrong?”
Wrong? Everything was wrong. This had to be an anomaly.
Kelsey thought she and Faith couldn't be more opposite. Kelsey was nothing like the fickle starlet. Faith had four ex-fiancés and a current one; Kelsey had never been nor planned on being engaged. Faith was adored by millions; Kelsey preferred to remain in the background. Yet you’d never know there was a difference walking in here.
“This…This could bemyroom. My room when I was growing up.”
He glanced around. “I don’t picture you in a room like this.”
“I didn’t pictureFaithin a room like this.” Kelsey ran her fingers over the quilt covering the plush queen-size mattress, she traced the pink and purple wedding-ring pattern with her fingers. Had Faith’s grandmother quilted her bedcover, as Kelsey’s had? Kelsey’s gaze ran up the same four-poster bed as hers, but this one was oak, and hers was cherry. Still… “It’s kind of eerie how similar her room is to mine.”
His brows furrowed. “Your bedroom is like this?”
She nodded. “My bedroom at my father’s house. When he finally convinced a judge to give him visitation rights, he set up rooms for us.” She picked up a teddy bear sitting on top of lace throw pillows. “We got to help decorate the rooms when we went to live with him after my mother married husband number two. Otto was allergic to children. Or so he claimed. My brother had to share a room with Samuel, one of our ex-stepbrothers, and later with Jimmy, another one of them, but I had my own room. Cade and I would spend hours in my room. It was our…”
“Your what?”
“Our safe place.” Kelsey remembered how walking into her room had made her feel. Safe and secure and whole. “The room has been the one constant in our life. Mom was always moving into whatever new house came with her new husband, but Dad kept everything the same. The room hasn’t changed except I have a new stepsister living in my old room now. She’s twelve years younger than me.”
Kelsey shrugged, hoping she sounded nonchalant, but it hurt knowing when she went “home” she had to stay in the “guest room.”
“I can’t imagine,” Will said.
“Don’t even try.” Kelsey walked to the vanity table and traced one of the hand-painted roses with her fingertip. “I had one of these. And a chaise like Faith’s.” As childhood memories washed over Kelsey, she smiled. “Cade and I used them to play therapist.”
“Therapist?”
“One of us would be the psychiatrist and sit at the vanity. The other would lie on the chaise and tell the therapist what was wrong. Talking to each other was easier than talking to all the professionals our parents kept taking us to so we’d stay well-adjusted.”
