I leave the room and sneak down the hall to the last door on the right. My knuckles rap against it twice. “It’s me.”
“Hartley?” Mira pulls it open, her eyes wide and bright. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to see me on our wedding day.”
“Too late.” I grin. “Can I come in?”
She shrugs. “Sure. You’ve already jinxed us.”
“Good thing we only have to rough it out for a year, then, huh?”
I step inside the room, closing the door softly behind me. When I turn back to Mira, my heart stumbles over itself.Holy shit.
She’s fresh-faced as if she just got up and had a cup of coffee. Her hair is in soft curls at her shoulders, and a long button-up shirt hits her mid-thigh. Everything about her lures me in. I just stare at her, trying to remember how to breathe. Trying to get my brain to register that she’smyfiancée.
For a moment, I only focus on that single fact. Not the land, not Lolly’s house, and not the impending divorce. Just the simple idea that I’m marrying her.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, hoping I’m not crossing a line. “Stunning, really.”
Her cheeks flush. “Stunning, huh? Maybe I’ll just get married in this and forget the wedding dress.”
“Fine by me.”
She laughs. The sound is like music to my ears.
“I brought you something,” I say, sliding my hand into my pocket again. “I was afraid you’d be getting nervous, and I didn’t want you in here spiraling.”
“I never spiral.”
Lifting a brow, I place the coin in her hand. “You’re the biggest spiraler I know.”
She looks down at the small, round piece of metal about the size of a penny in her hand. There’s a hole in the center of it. I start to worry that she doesn’t remember where it came from but stop when she lifts her gaze to mine and grins.
“You still have this?” she asks, in awe. Her thumb brushes over the worn edges as if she can’t quite believe I carried something she gave me years ago.
“That thing has been in my pocket for every business meeting, negotiation, and any other stressful event in my life. Of course, I still have it.”
She moves slowly around the room, flipping the coin in her palm. “I gave this to you at the Sugar Days festival when we were ten. You wanted to win that can of fart spray so badly but kept missing the balloon with the dart.” She laughs quietly as she walks through her memory bank. “I had just found this on the ground when someone gave me free cotton candy, so I told you the coin was good luck, and it would keep your nerves at bay.”
“And I won the fart spray,” I say, smiling at her. “And now, hopefully, it’ll keep your nerves at bay as you throw a dart, so to speak.”
“You’re better than a can of fart spray.”
“I’d hope.” I laugh, the sound mixing with hers. “I’d better get out of here before Lolly finds me. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her chest rises and falls as she searches my eyes. The air warms, thickens, as we stand within arm’s reach of each other but fail to touch.
“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” she says. “I’ll be the one in the white dress.”
“And I’ll be the lucky bastard in the tux waiting on you.”
I want to kiss you, Mira. I want to get the chance to love you again, to make the memories I’ve always thought we’d make together.
But I don’t say any of that. As usual, I hold those thoughts inside and lock them away. We can touch in public, but Mira’s been clear that she wants all other boundaries respected, which was especially evident at the park on Tuesday night. It was the first night in a long time that when I touched her, she’d smile at me with a genuine softness in her eyes.
But we’ll never have that in private again.
I give her a final smile of reassurance and then leave, closing the door behind me.
Mira
