I open my mouth to protest when Isla walks out and everyone falls silent once again, my little moment of dress-up forgotten as the real star of the show floats onto the platform in front of the three-way mirror. She’s a vision in ivory silk and minimalist beading.
“Oh, Isla,” Lexi says on an exhalation. “You look absolutely stunning.”
Tears glitter in Isla’s blue eyes, and I feel them pooling in mine too. “I think… I think this is the one.” She looks my way, and her eyes widen as she takes me in, but I nod. This moment is about her, not me.
“I think you’re right. That dress was made for you.” My words come out choked and full of emotion.
Isla’s lips curve in a tremulous but vibrant smile. “I’m going to marry your brother in this dress.”
She looks so happy. After everything she’s been through, Isla Harding deserves all the happiness in the world. And even though I’d love to punch her ex-fiancé in the dick for breaking up with her two weeks before their wedding, I’d also like to send him flowers and thank him for freeing this woman from what would undoubtedly have been a miserable marriage, and allowing her to meet my brother. Because she’s everything he’s ever needed, and I couldn’t ask for a better sister.
“He’s going to cry like a baby,” I tell her, pulling her into a crushing hug. “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
The same way I keep imagining Griffin wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me.
twenty-one
MIRA
After the Rogueswin their second game of the series, I’m lying in bed, waiting for Griffin to call. Our bed, not the one in my old room. The room I should want to retreat to when Griffin isn’t here, but I don’t. I love spending my workday there, but I’ve started thinking of it as my office, rather than my bedroom.
Is that crazy?
Who am I kidding? This whole damn situation is crazy.
My third yawn in as many minutes hits just as Griffin’s photo pops up on my phone, and I grin as I hit the green answer button. “Hey there, hotshot. Good game tonight.”
“You watched?” Griffin’s hazel eyes light up. I watch their games whenever I can, so I don’t know why he’s surprised, but the pleasure that’s written all over his features makes my heart do a little arrhythmic thump.
“Course I did, Griffy. You were on fire tonight.”
A goofy grin splits his face as he flops backward onto his hotel bed and tucks an arm behind his head. “I was thinking about my gorgeous wife, and it spurred me on.”
“Griffin…” There’s less heat and hesitation behind the warning than there has been, but despite my changing feelings for Griffin Wright—or maybe because of them—I’m still uncomfortable with him calling me his wife. I mean, I know that’s what I am legally, but I always thought that word would hold weight and intimate meaning when I had someone in my life who would call me that. Younger Mira never would have thought I’d end up married after partying in Vegas, and she certainly never would have imagined staying in said marriage for six months because she was basically blackmailed into it.
Is blackmail really the right word? It feels wrong when I consider how Griffin has treated me so far, but when it comes right down to it, there’s really no other term that would be accurate.
“I’m serious, baby. I’ve been on top of my game since I woke up married to you. Even Coach has noticed. I want to make you proud.”
There’s an earnestness in his voice and expression that hits me right in the heart. Not sure there’s a woman alive who wouldn’t feel some kind of way about a man as sweet, talented, and sexy as Griffin Wright telling them he wants to make her proud. If he was here, I’d be pulling his dick out and gagging on it.
“I am proud of you,” I tell him softly. Because I know he needs to hear it, but also because it’s true. Ever since the whole Quinoa story debacle, it’s become clear that Griffin hides his insecurities behind smiles and his goofy persona, but they’re there. And they’re loud.
How often do people tell him they’re proud or that they admire him? I hate that I’ve been guilty of overlooking him myself. The man took me in and asked nothing in return, and I took it for granted.
No more.
“You’re amazing, Griffin. I hope you know that. And I know we’re on different pages about this whole marriage thing, but it’s important to me that you understand how much I admire and value you. Not only because you’re great at hockey. But because you’re kind and thoughtful, you’re loyal, selfless, and you care so much about the people in your life. I’m lucky to have you. So is my brother and everyone else.”
Griffin stares at me through the phone for a few beats, a hesitant smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You think I’m amazing?”
“Of course I do.” Rolling my eyes, I level him with a look that says he’s being ridiculous. “You know I do.”
As that smile blooms into something beautiful, my heart skips a beat. “My wife thinks I’m amazing.” He says it more to himself than me, and it sparks warmth throughout my body. It’s a heady sensation, and I change the subject so I don’t have time to ruminate on it.
“Have you heard anything from the mechanic about my car?”
Unfortunately, that question makes Griffin’s smile falter. He runs a hand through his golden hair and winces. “Uh, yeah, I have, actually.”
