“Garrick has such good taste,” Mom says, trailing her fingers along the gorgeous dress. “This will look stunning on you.”
“I don’t know if I can wear it.” I dab at my damp eyes.
“Course you can.” Hadley grips my hand tight in hers. “It would be the greatest way of honoring Garrick. He knew this would look fabulous on you. I say you wear it tonight and we take tons of photos.”
The unspoken part of that sentence goes unsaid. I have noticed my family doing that in recent times. No one says “when Garrick wakes” anymore. The anniversary was a turning point in more than one way. It doesn’t mean all hope is lost. While he’s still breathing and there are signs of brain activity, there is always hope. But it’s time to consider the alternative.
That he won’t ever wake.
That some tough calls may have to be made, and each passing day brings that decision closer.
“What do you think?” I peer up at Beck.
“I think you should do whatever you’re comfortable with, and you will look beautiful no matter what you decide to wear tonight.”
I don’t miss the look Nana, Hadley, and Mom share, but I choose to ignore it.
* * *
Mom treats Hadley and me to manis and pedis while Beck and Nana unload the boxes of books he brought and stack them in the new bookshelves in the coffee shop part of the store. When we return, they have just finished, and we admire their handiwork. The store is packed today, and if Nana hadn’t reserved one of the tables for us, we’d be forced to go elsewhere for lunch.
We munch on toasted ciabattas with side salad and cake for dessert. Mom and Nana aren’t joining us tonight—they’re leaving it to the young ones, according to Nana—so they insisted on a cake with candles. The whole store sings happy birthday to me, and the smile on my face is the first genuine smile I’ve worn in ages.
Beck blushes when Nana introduces him to the crowded store, and there’s a virtual stampede to the bookshelves.
On the ride back to the city, Hadley and I tease Beck nonstop about all the swooning moms and grannies who fawned over him as he signed books. His blush is adorable, and I love how humble he is about his talent and his success. I also love that Nana suggested this to him. It’s genius. Coffee, cake, and books seem like a winning combo to me. Several book clubs meet at the store on a weekly basis, so it’s a brilliant idea. Beck even suggested he could get some other author friends to supply their books if it takes off.
When we reach the city, Beck drops us off at our place to get ready, agreeing to collect us in two hours so we can all head out together.
* * *
BECK
“Oh wow. Look at you! You look gorgeous, Stevie.” Esther squeals when Stevie and Hadley slide into the limo alongside me. I would agree with my sister’s sentiment, but I’ve lost the ability to speak. Gorgeous comes nowhere close to covering the vision in front of me. I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open and trailing the ground.
Stevie on a normal day is beautiful as fuck.
But tonight?
She is breathtaking in every conceivable way.
The dress is a little big, confirming she still hasn’t put back on all the weight she lost, even if she looks less gaunt these past couple of months. The large belt tied securely across her middle mostly hides that fact. A strapless fitted bodice hugs her curves to perfection, showcasing her delicate porcelain skin that has a shimmering glow tonight where it curves over her defined collarbone, slim shoulders, and slender arms. Long toned legs sit prettily in high strappy gold stilettos.
“You look like a princess,” I blurt. “You are absolutely stunning.” It doesn’t come close to describing how she looks, but I’m conscious of our audience.
“Thank you.” Her soft smile melts my heart while other parts of my body stiffen.
“Your hair is pretty like that.” It’s in a half-up, half-down style, softly sculpted around her face, with a few carefully positioned strands hanging loose, and it flows casually down her back in glossy curls.
I have never seen anything more beautiful, and I fall a little deeper in this moment.
“I can’t believe you got us a limo,” Hadley says, helping herself to the champagne. “This is so cool.”
“I hope it’s okay,” I say, pouring a glass of champagne for Stevie.
“It’s more than okay. I have never been in a limo before, so this is amazing. Thank you.” Stevie smiles shyly at me as she takes the glass from my hand. Our fingers brush in the exchange and delicious tremors shoot up my arm from that brief touch. It makes me wonder how incredible it would feel if I got to touch her how I want. I instantly shut that train of thought down because it’s a fantasy and one unlikely to come true.
“Birthday girls should always travel in style,” Sarah agrees, offering her flute to me for a top off.
