Page 18 of Promise Me Never

Bennett cut her off. “I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning. I didn’t plan it, but when you know you know.”

Felicia gave him skeptical look. “Are you sure about this? You’ve had a tough year. I think you should slow down. You just met her. What’s the rush?”

“I don’t have the stomach for a long-distance relationship. She wasn’t going to move here without a commitment.”

“Hmph. Sounds pushy.”

“I get it. She had to quit her job, give up her apartment. We’re just going to do a quick thing at the community church. We’ll delay the honeymoon until May. Then we’re going to spend a month in Paris.”

She blew out a breath and shook her head. “I hope you don’t regret it. I worry about you. You let these women take advantage of your good nature. You deserve the best. And I don’t want some gold digger taking advantage of you. What if she’s like Angela or—”

Bennett didn’t want to think about the past. “That’s not the case. You have nothing to worry about. Savannah’s wonderful. I know you’ll love her.” In truth, he wasn’t so sure. Felicia never seemed to approve of any of the women he brought home. It had caused friction in his past relationships, but his loyalty to Felicia was ironclad.

“She knows I come with the package?”

He reached out a hand to pat hers. “Of course. It’s going to be different this time. Savannah’s so kind. I know you’ll get along famously.”

She arched an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“For me, please try.”

“For you.” She tilted her head. “So, what does this Savannah do? Is she a literary agent?”

He shook his head. “No. Literary assistant. Also, a writer.”

Felicia’s eyes narrowed. “Two writers under the same roof. Recipe for disaster if you ask me. What does she write? Not the same thing as you, I hope.”

Bennett knew what Felicia was thinking. When two people in a relationship wrote the same genre, competition was bound to rear its ugly head. But he wasn’t worried about that. There was no way Savannah would ever outshine him. Hardly anyone could. “Horror. But there’s a lot of room in the genre. She’s working on her first book.”

Felicia raised her eyebrows. “She’s not published?”

“Not yet.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t like that. Don’t like that at all. How do you know she’s not hoping the famous Bennett Bryson will give her a leg up? That she doesn’t have an agenda?”

He shook his head. “Marion could do far more for her than I could, and she’s leaving her job at the literary agency to be with me.” When he had first met Savannah, it had occurred to him, of course. But it soon became clear her feelings for him were genuine.

Felicia didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. “Well, I’ll head to mine and let you get unpacked.” She called Finn to her and kissed him on the head. “Your favorite human is back.” She turned to Bennett. “I defrosted a filet mignon for you. And there’s bread pudding for dessert.”

“Trying to fatten me up?” He laughed, patting his stomach.

“Not much chance of that! It’s a wonder you find time to eat at all, the way you lock yourself up in that office for hours at a time.”

After she left, he put the steak in the oven and made himself a salad. He would take a pass on the bread pudding, especially after eating hotel food for a month. He thought about his conversation with Felicia. Was it possible that Savannah was simply starstruck? She’d told him that she’d read all his books multiple times. She’d never hidden the fact that she was a big fan. Could her infatuation with him have more to do with his literary reputation than himself? No, he thought. He was handsome and interesting. A catch. Women had always thrown themselves at him, even before he became famous. His dark hair was beginning to show some gray at the temples, which gave him a distinguished look. He’d been told that his eyes were his best feature, though it was his lashes, long and thick, that women never stopped commenting on. He and Savannah made a stunning couple. Her delicate features and pale complexion a contrast to his dark hair and olive skin. He thought again of Poppy. Flamboyant and confident Poppy with her wild mane, green eyes, flawless skin. Her beauty rivaled any of the women gracing the big screen. She had a magnetism that drew others to her. Men stared anytime they were in public, and Bennett’s possessiveness had made him want to punch them. He wouldn’t have that same issue with Savannah. She didn’t flaunt her sexuality the way that Poppy had. He didn’t think Savannah even realized how beautiful she was. He took a sip from the wine glass. Enough, he thought. Poppy was the past. Savannah was the future. She adored him. She wouldn’t give him a reason to turn on her.

| Eighteen |

Savannah

After learning about Bennett’s prior engagements, Savannah was more certain than ever that she’d done the right thing by refusing to live with him until they were married. When she had pressed Marion for details, she found out that both of his fiancées had broken things off at the last minute. That made her feel a little better. At least he hadn’t been the one to leave someone at the altar. And this had occurred years ago, before he had married Poppy. She debated asking him about it, but they had agreed not to delve into each other’s past romantic histories, and she certainly didn’t want to have to tell him about hers. What mattered was the future. And hers was bright.

It was her last day at the agency. Marion had thrown her a little going-away party—cake and champagne. Despite her elation about marrying Bennett, Savannah was a little sad at the thought of leaving. She had worked hard to land her job, and she hadn’t yet accomplished what she’d set out to do when she’d moved to the city. But then again, there was no reason she couldn’t finish her novel in Bedford in her new home. In fact, she’d have a better chance of doing just that with little else to do but write. She had already packed up her belongings and put them in the U-Haul she’d rented. Bennett had offered to come and drive her back, but she wanted to do it herself. Besides, it was only a little over an hour drive to Bedford. The last thing she needed to do was to go to the bank and rent a safe-deposit box. It would be too dangerous to bring the document with her. She would come back to the city and apply for a passport after they were married. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be going to Paris until May.

She took a last look around the apartment. She’d sold the sofa bed since she wouldn’t be taking it with her, and someone was coming by in the morning to collect it. Tonight was the last night she’d spend on it. She poured herself a glass of cabernet, put on some music, and sat down, thinking of all that was to come. What would her wretched parents think now that she was getting everything she wanted? They had never encouraged her writing. Had told her to have a backup plan. What would they think now that she was engaged to someone whose writing had bought the kind of life they could only dream of? The kind of life she was now stepping into and would soon be able to afford herself. Soon Bennett would belong to her. One thing was for sure, becoming the wife of a New York Times bestselling author was great, but it was not the same as becoming one herself. Savannah would never give up on that goal.

She thought back to the last time she saw her parents. She had been getting ready to leave for her last semester at the University of North Carolina, where she would graduate with a bachelor’s in fine arts, not the business or accounting degree her father had tried to pressure her into. Their poverty of imagination was something she’d been forced to deal with her entire life. They thought she was an aimless dreamer.

“You know you have to get a real job once you graduate, right?” her mother had asked that last night.