He’s quiet for a long moment. Then his gaze shifts from the sky to my face.
“Possibilities.”
THIRTY-SIX
The hotel suiteis pure chaos. Beautiful chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
We’re in a Four Seasons suite big enough to hold my entire extended family—aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, the whole nine yards.
Good thing, really, because my “team” is nearly that large. Hair and makeup. Dress consultation. Kendra on three different phones at once: the label, my publicist (apparently, I have one of those now), and someone from Cash’s team.
And I’m just trying not to hyperventilate.
Cash showed up an hour ago, already dressed in his tailored suit, to make sure I wasn’t freaking out.
I’m freaking out.
I think I’m doing a fairly good job of hiding it, though. Inside, a hurricane is barreling through me, but on the outside, I’m sporting a wide smile. I’ve checked in the gold-framed mirror multiple times to make sure it’s still there.
“You ready for this?” Cash asks.
I don’t answer, handing him my phone instead. “Here. Take a picture of me.”
He raises a brow but obliges. I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass that leads to the balcony, striking one of the poses my publicist drilled into me earlier: chin slightly down, shoulder back, hand on hip. The red-carpet pose.
Cash hands my phone back and sinks into a velvet armchair in the corner of the room. I flip the camera and take a selfie. Miles will like this one better.
I shoot off both.
Me:
Do I look red carpet ready?
I can’t believe this is happening
Miss you
“Summer, let’s touch you up,” someone calls, directing me to the chair I spent hours in earlier, getting full glam. What appears to be the contents of an entire Sephora store is spread across the marble table.
Miles’s response is there, waiting, when I open up our text thread.
Miles:
You look incredible
I love you
You’re going to be amazing tonight
I love you.
The pounding in my chest slows.
He loves me.
I love him.
We’re solid. We’re good. So good.
