Page 107 of Veiled

“Should I not have asked him?” He shifts his weight, suddenly uncertain. “You said you grew up going to events together, so I figured no one here would know your taste for dresses as much as he would.”

The insecurity in his voice cracks something inside me. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back down into a kiss I hope conveys everything I’m feeling.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper against his lips when I finally stop kissing him.

His hands slide to my hips, holding me like he disagrees with everything I’ve ever said. “Honey,” he murmurs, “you deserve so much more than me. But I’m selfish and I’m keeping you anyway.”

“Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“No calling me your wife at the gala, okay?” I try to sound stern, but his smile ruins me.

He brushes his thumb along my jaw. “Alright,” he says quietly. “No wife.”

Chapter forty

Annalise

“MOVE. OUT. OF. THE. WAY!”

That’s all I hear before Sasha is exploding through my bedroom doorway like a wound-up fairy godmother. She’s armed with a makeup bag the size of a suitcase, several bottles of hair products, and a curling iron that looks like it could be used as a baseball bat, should the need arise.

She freezes the moment she sees the boxes arranged neatly on my dresser.

“Yes,” she sighs dramatically. “My moment.”

“Hey, Sash—”

“No time to talk,” she cuts in, already steering me toward my desk chair. “Sit. Drink water. Don’t argue with me. I was born for this.”

The door swings open again, and this time it’s Matt strolling in, sipping an iced coffee before presenting me with another from behind his back.

“I’m here for moral support,” he declares as Sasha glares at him, “What? You said no snacks! Coffee is her emotional support drink, Sasha. You’ll be thanking me later.”

I groan. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

“I know you do," he smiles. “Aiden said you’d need me. And, well—he wasn’t wrong.”

Sasha claps her hands, loud and ready to take charge. “Matt, plug in the curling iron and get out of my way. Ana, give me your face.”

Matt’s brows shoot up, “Is that a threat?”

“Yes,” we say in unison. Me joking, Sasha, I’m not really sure.

The next hour moves in a blur with Sasha commanding us like she’s royalty.

“Matt, I need you to steam Lee’s dress—slower—no, not so close—not so far away either! Oh my gods, do you even know what steam is?”

“Lee, chin up. No, not so high, you look like you’re trying to smell the ceiling.”

“Matt, hand me the contour brush. Nooo, that’s the lip liner. Matt. Matthew. Put it down.”

“Matt, hold the blow dryer right here—no, not at your face, I know you’re cold, but this isn’t about you!”

“Lee, stop blinking. You blink like you’ve got a hair in your eye.”

I did, in fact, have a hair in my eye, but she just told me to suck it up.