The same way he was.
I met his gaze, not bothering to wipe the tears off my cheek.
“For your son,” he said. “Or daughter.”
Shelby never liked it. She preferred girlie things. Once I grew older, the lamp disappeared from the nursery and sat high on a shelf in his office. Protected.
And now, he was giving it to me. A symbol of his past so dear to him, I knew right then how deeply he loved me. More than I had ever imagined him doing. That was the real gift.
I embraced him, suddenly six years old again. Seeking his strength and warmth, which he gave freely. We stood for long moments, the love in the room tangible and rich. Then he stepped back and clapped his hands on my shoulders, letting me see his emotions.
“Be happy, Bray,” he murmured.
“I will. I love her, Dad.”
“I know. You’ll be a great partner for Addi. You were meant to be together.”
I nodded. He was right. She was my soul mate.
I indicated the lamp. “I’ll take good care of it.”
He smiled. “I know. I look forward to reading to my grandson with it.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
He threw back his head, the moment lighter.
“I’ll keep that to myself.”
For a moment, our eyes locked, and I knew I would never forget this moment with my dad.
He squeezed my shoulders. “Let’s go get you married.”
“Sounds good.”Chapter 4AddisonMy stomach fluttered with nerves as I stepped into the cloud of tulle and lace. Cami slipped the dress up, making quick work of the hidden zipper and covered buttons that graced the back of the gown. I drew in a deep breath as the boning cinched in, and I ran my finger over the scalloped edge of the beading that hugged my breasts.
“This isn’t going anywhere.”
Cami met my eyes in the mirror, winking. “I’m sure Brayden will consider it a challenge later. Tell him to be gentle. I worked hard on this one.”
My breath caught as I looked in the mirror. “You’ve outdone yourself,” I whispered in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Cami replied.
I felt like a princess or a fairy queen. The skirt billowed out around me, the sparkles catching the light. I never considered myself particularly beautiful. Brayden insisted I was, and the way he looked at me made me feel special and beautiful in his eyes, and that was enough. My dad called me lovely all the time and my mom insisted I was as well, but I always thought it was because they, like Brayden, looked at me with love. I was just me. Nothing special.
But today, in this dress, I felt beautiful.
My mom stepped behind the divider, her hand flying to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes. “Addi,” she breathed out. “Oh, your father is going to lose it when he sees you.”
“You as well, Mom. You look gorgeous.”
She smiled and stepped close, laying her head along mine. Her golden hair was interwoven with silver, highlighting the color. She refused to have it dyed, and my father loved it. It was gathered in an elegant braid that hung down her back, laced with sparkles and ribbon. Her dress, a rich green, suited her coloring. It was long-sleeved, cinched tight at the waist, the sweetheart neckline showing off her throat and the redesigned necklace she wore. She was elegant and beautiful.
She kissed my cheek. “We’ll both wow him.”
Chloe slipped in, grinning. Her dress shimmered in the lights, the soft gold creation perfect on her. “Dad is going to blubber like a baby when he sees us. He’s already emotional.”
My mom smiled. “Your dad is having a hard time that his baby is getting married and her sister probably not far behind.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m too busy for a man. I plan on staying at home until I’m fifty. Rent is cheap. My laundry is done, and the food is good.” She winked. “And dad has a driver for me, and he lets me shop. Why do I need another man?”
We all laughed. Chloe loved all the benefits of living at home, including the car and driver Dad had at her disposal. He always worried with the hours she kept that she would fall asleep at the wheel, or worse yet, get mugged on a subway or bus. She had resisted at first, then decided she liked it. As for the rest—I couldn’t argue. She did, on occasion, do her own laundry, and I knew my dad gave her a budget for her “shopping,” although I was certain it was generous. Otherwise, she had it nailed. Our parents had been the same with all of us, including paying for our education. They insisted they wanted us to concentrate on studying, not having to juggle jobs and school. My mother had done it on her own, and my father didn’t want us having to go through what she had, struggling to keep up.