“But your business is incredible too. You bought us this house.” Flo swept out an arm to encompass the kitchen and everything else. “We live this comfortably because of you. I no longer have to strain my eyes sewing into the wee hours so we can put food on the table.” Flo sat down and curled her fingers around Michaela’s. “You made all that possible.”
Michaela battled on. “Yes, but?—”
Flo cut her off. “Why do you think you’re not good enough for Troy?”
She was quick to say, “That’s not what I’m getting at.”
But her mother didn’t let go. “It’s essentially what you mean.”
Michaela shook her head. “I’m just saying that he’ll get tired of someone who doesn’t fit into his lifestyle.”
Her mother’s eyes held a world of sadness. “Maybe that’s even worse. You think you’re not good enough to keep his interest and that he’ll tire of you.”
Flo put it so succinctly Michaela couldn’t help hearing those words, letting them seep into her very marrow. She didn’t think she was good enough to hold his interest. Her mother was right. It was why she never dated billionaires.
She had to admit very softly, “That’s what Troy said.”
Michaela’s hands in hers, Flo squeezed. “You’re so remarkable. But all along, you’ve dated men who aren’t good enough for you. But now that you’ve finally met your perfect match, it scares the heck out of you. Sweetheart, don’t let your fears get the better of you.”
Michaela wiped away a tear she hadn’t even realized was falling until it tickled her cheek.
After several beats of silence, her mother asked, “Do you think I’m good enough to be friends with Susan Spencer? Good enough to date Walter Braedon?”
Michaela snorted. “Of course you are. That’s not what I was driving at.”
“Then tell me why you aren’t good enough for the Mavericks or the Harringtons… or Troy.”
Michaela could only whisper, “I don’t know, Mom.”
Flo sighed, then smiled softly. “Then let’s go to the wedding and see if we do fit in.”
Sniffing and blinking back another tear, Michaela finally said, “Okay.”
Jumping to her feet, Flo clapped her hands and danced around the kitchen. “We’re going to a wedding,” she singsonged. Then she stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms flung out. “We need to make the most marvelous bathing suits and cover-ups.”
Michaela could only echo, “Bathing suits and cover-ups?”
Flo laughed. Her mother had the most beautiful laugh, the most marvelous smile. No wonder Walter Braedon couldn’t help but be entranced by her. “Didn’t you read the invitation? It’s a beach party with swimwear instead of cocktail dresses. Let’s go pick out the perfect material to make two stunning outfits.”
“We can’t possibly make something by Saturday.”
Her mother snorted in disbelief. “I’ve made floor-length ballgowns overnight. I can certainly make two swimsuits and a couple of sarongs.”
Of course she could.
They were going to a wedding.
Troy would be there.
And Michaela didn’t know how she would avoid throwing herself into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Saturday, Troy’s yacht, signed, sealed, and delivered, lay moored beside the dock in the deepwater harbor of Walter Braedon’s Big Sur resort. As she beheld the sleek, massive beast with every luxury, Michaela could think only about that first glorious kiss with Troy in the stern of the yacht.
He’d once again sent a limo for them, and Michaela and Flo had arrived for Lyssa and Cal’s beach-party wedding only ten minutes ago, wearing the beautiful swimwear Michaela had helped her mother create.
Flo wore a one-piece suit with a cover-up cinched beneath her breasts and falling in beautiful folds to just above her ankles, the neckline, long sleeves, and hem bordered in lace. The two of them had chosen a bikini for Michaela, with a matching sarong wrapped around her hips, leaving her midriff and shoulders bare. When she’d objected, her mother had scoffed, “It’s a beach party. If I could flaunt this body—” She ran her hands down her caftan. “—I’d do it in a New York minute.”
