She nods, concern etched on her face.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, taking a breath. “Is Pres still taking the red-eye back to New York?”
“I think so,” she says, frowning.
“I guess I’ll have to tell him tomorrow,” I say, looking at the closet. “Anyway, I’m going to let you go. I'm meeting Lach at the office and then we're going to lunch with his parents. And I haven't even gotten dressed!
“The office,” Marissa says, eyes wide. “I can’t even believe he goes to a legit office.”
“I know.” I drop my hand and look at the floor. “I hate it. Like really hate it.”
“Do you think he’ll go back to hockey?”
“I’m trying to get him to. I don’t think I can live with myself, knowing he quit because of me and got stuck at a regular office job, regardless of how much money he’ll be making.”
“I don’t think you should feel guilty, Lyles,” she says, walking around the back room of the shop. “If the tables were turned and you gave up soccer to find him, would you hate him?”
“Of course not, but I actually did give up soccer. This is different.”
“Would you hate him if he made you walk away from soccer or your sports medicine career?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
She sighs heavily and stops walking, shooting me a look. “Just answer the fucking question you know I’m asking.”
“No,” I say plainly. “I’d give up anything for him.”
“Now, multiply that times ten. That’s how much that man loves you,” she says. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“I’m going to get him back on the ice.”
“Well okay, then, you used your no-bullshit voice on that one, so I believe you,” she says, smiling.
I stand up and start walking toward the closet. “Oh my God, I need to find a wedding dress.”
“I’ll start looking.” She shrieks, grinning wide. “Love you. Bye.”
I laugh and hang up. I have no doubt she’s going to look at every wedding dress within driving distance.
* * *
Marissa sends me a handful of wedding dress links for me to look at, which made me go down a wedding rabbit hole. We’ll have a very intimate wedding with a handful of guests, so a week should be more than enough time. I save the dresses I like. Since it’s Marissa’s account, I’m sure she’ll go through them and text her opinion, soon enough. I should be getting ready, but instead, I’m watching videos of small weddings. Every single one has the father walking the bride down the aisle. I’ve been so upset at my father for so many things that I can’t imagine asking him to attend the wedding, let alone walking me down the aisle. I have to admit that it hurts a little. I try to think back to how we were before the accident and keep coming up blank. I know I have fond memories of him, but it’s as if the person he became after the accident erased the man he was before. For me, Prescott is the only choice. He’s been there for me as long as I can remember, and his friendship and love never wavered. Our first two years of college, we’d both been busy with different things and didn’t make time for each other, but after the accident, he was there for me as much as he could be. As much as I let him.
I log out and get dressed quickly. Most of my wardrobe consists of light or dark tones. The only color thrown in is whatever Marissa forces me to buy “just in case.” Today, I wear all black and throw on my dark beige coat. The only thing I hesitate on are the shoes. I’m definitely wearing flats. I’m just not sure if I’m in the black loafer mood or black high-top Converse mood. I go with the sneakers, hoping we grab deep-dish pizza instead of ending up at some fancy restaurant.
When I leave the room, I find Ronnie still sitting on the couch, watching the same movie he was watching earlier. It looks like a tearjerker, and nothing I’d picture him choosing. He switches it off and stands when he sees me.
“Have you cried yet?” I ask as we head to the door.
He laughs. “No, but I almost did a few times.”
I shake my head, laughing as we walk to the elevator. We talk about movies, and he tells me how he ended up working at Duke, and how much more he enjoys it than at the security company he used to be in. I tell him about med school, and how I want to get Lach back on the ice, which he agrees with me about. The drive only takes ten minutes, but by the time we park, I feel like we know each other, which is nice since he seems to be sticking around, for now.
* * *
Back at Duke, we take the elevator to Lachlan’s floor, and Ronnie leads the way to his office. It’s a massive space. He has a secretary who has his own huge space in front of two large doors that lead to his office. We greet the secretary, who seems to know who I am and tells me to go right in. Ronnie continues to speak to him as I open the door to Lach’s office. My jaw drops as soon as I step inside and shut the door behind me. It is. . .holy shit. I don’t know if I’d be more productive or less, with that view of the city as my backdrop. The room itself is three times the size of my office — with a bookshelf, couches, a large desk, and two chairs across from his. Sitting behind the desk is Lachlan, looking hot as hell in his crisp white dress shirt and blue tie, watching me take it all in. I close the distance between us and stand between his legs.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he says, voice husky, when his smoldering green eyes reach mine.
