Her hand finds my arm, and the warmth of her touch grounds me. I pull her to me and breathe in. “You did great up there tonight, angel. I’m so proud of you.”
She pulls back, searching my gaze. “What’s going on? Who was that man I saw you talking to before I got here?”
I glance toward the space where Sebastian Roth vanished. The stranger who just rewrote everything I believed about my family.
I turn to meet Avery’s concerned eyes. Those green eyes have seen every broken part of me and stayed anyway. Now she’ll help me carry this new burden too. "That was Sebastian Roth. His mother is Madeline Xavier, my mother’s sister. He’s my cousin."
“Your what?” The shock on her face mirrors the earthquake still settling in my chest. She swivels her head to look for him,but he’s long gone now. When her eyes settle back on mine they’re filled with tenderness. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. A firm denial. “No. I want to enjoy the rest of this evening with my gorgeous wife. I want you to eat some of the thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner they’re about to serve, then I want to dance with you and revel in all of the envious stares from every man in this ballroom.”
A small crease knits her brow. “Nick…”
I silence her with a kiss. “I don’t want to think about Sebastian Roth or the Xaviers or anyone else right now.”
She’s still frowning, still looking at me with soft concern. I don’t give her time to ask all of the questions swimming in her eyes. Taking her hand, I lead her back through the sea of guests to our reserved table, doing my damnedest to put Sebastian Roth and his unsettling revelation out of my head.
32
AVERY
"Step in, Avery. Armsthrough first."
It's the day after the gala and I'm having my final dress fitting at House of Delaire before I walk down the aisle and marry Nick—for the second time—on Saturday. I can barely keep the smile off my face as Serena guides the gown up over my hips, the ivory silk whispering against my skin.
"Deep breath," Serena says from behind me. "And... hold."
The closure draws snug at my waist. Serena's fingers test the fit, then she comes around in front of me and tilts her head. "We're a bit tighter here than last time." Her voice carries no judgment, just steady assurance. "How does it feel to you, Avery? Are you comfortable?"
I test the fit by exhaling, imagining myself wearing it on Saturday, then sitting in this work of art for several hours after the wedding. "Do we have enough time to let it out again, just a little?"
"Of course," Serena says.
As she continues checking the dress's fit and making notes with her team, I smooth my hands over the fitted bodice,pausing where my waist feels a bit fuller, if not visibly discernible to anyone else. The baby is only the size of a blueberry by now, but it won't be long before my pregnancy begins to show. Between that and Nick's constant cooking, I may need to invest in a closet full of yoga pants and stretchy sweaters.
Spending time in the kitchen is its own kind of therapy for him, always has been. It's how he works through the things that bother him, the things he's not quite ready to confront or talk about—like the bombshell from last night's gala.
We're both reeling from the revelation that his longtime business rival, Sebastian Roth, is his cousin. And that the grandmother who disowned his mother is still alive.
He'd refused to talk about it after we got home from the event, deflecting my questions with long, unhurried kisses and hours of lovemaking that left me boneless and sound asleep in his arms. I wanted him to tell me what he was thinking, how he was feeling about everything he learned last night, but I know Nick. He'll come to me when he's ready. Pushing will only make him pull further away.
I drag myself back to the activity surrounding me, watching Serena's deft fingers working the closure of my gown. "I guess I'd better lay off the pasta this week if I want to fit into this dress on Saturday."
Her laugh is low and real. "Do what makes you happy. Most of my brides are living on anxiety and espresso by this point." She finishes the closure, her touch gentle but efficient. "This is exactly why we schedule a final fitting. We'll let out this seam just a bit. You won't feel the difference, but you'll have room to breathe. And eat cake."
She steps back, studying me with the attention of an artist assessing her work. I've come to recognize that look over these months, the way her gaze moves methodically, assessing fit andfall and the way light catches the fabric. She sees what most people miss. It's why I like her.
"Whatever you're doing. It's working," she says, her usual composure giving way to a genuine smile. "You're absolutely radiant, Avery."
Radiant. The word settles into me. If she only knew what's making me glow.
Across the room, Nadiyah sits at her worktable, bent over the veil. Her hands move with precise rhythm, needle rising, thread pulling taut, each seed pearl placed on the veil she's creating with deliberate care. She hasn't looked up since I arrived. Someone who disappears into her work the way I disappear into a canvas when the painting finally starts to speak.
"Now." Serena makes a small note on her tablet and hands it to Clara, who hovers nearby with her hands clasped, ready for the next task. "You mentioned wanting to try a special necklace with the gown?"
I nod. "Please. I want to see how it looks with the neckline."
Clara retrieves the red velvet box from my bag and carefully brings it to me. When she lifts the lid, the gasp that escapes her fills the quiet room.
