My grin hadn’t faded one bit as I headed out, my balloons leading the way.
I was free. And at the start of a new life.
Thirty-Five
Stella
I rotated my ankle, looking at my new shoes from every angle. The red satin straps hugged my foot and perfectly matched my nail polish. They were the highest heels I’d ever seen and beyond sexy. If these heels didn’t hint that I was ready to be fought for, then nothing would.
I figured Florence was right—I was guarded and still a little bruised, so Beck needed to know I was ready. For him. Because I was. He might not be able to give me what I needed, but I owed it to myself to find out.
I’d decided I’d lay my cards on the table, tell him how I felt and what I needed from him. He’d have to be all in or all out. I wasn’t going to just be one of a pack of girls he was dating. Beck might say no, but I knew I couldn’t date him knowing he wasn’t as committed to me as I was to him.
I needed a man who wanted me and no one else. If I was giving away my heart, I wanted another in return.
The door buzzed and my breath caught. This was it. I’d missed him. The echo of his absence had been getting louder. Knowing he was on the other side of the door was like the tide had rushed in and filled up my heart.
I hitched up my bra—off the shoulder was the perfect blend of demure and sexy but strapless bras and I would never be friends—and turned to the side to check that the bottom of my long, black dress wasn’t stuck in my knickers, then grabbed my clutch and headed out.
A wave of heat chased up my body as I answered the door and came eye to eye with Beck.
Even in a few days his hair seemed to have grown, and I wanted to push my fingers through it so I could see his pretty eyes more clearly.
“Hi,” I said, my pulse vibrating across my skin.
His gaze didn’t leave my face. “You look beautiful.”
Perhaps I didn’t need to spend so much time on the dress, shoes, or perfect shade of nail polish.
“You too,” I replied, trying to resist the urge to slide my hands up his chest and lay my cheek against his heart.
“Are you ready?” he asked, knocking me out of my own head.
I nodded, and he slid his hand into mine and squeezed just like we were back in Scotland. I bit down on my bottom lip as we headed to the car.
“We should talk,” he said as he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Talk?” I asked as if that wasn’t exactly what I’d been about to suggest.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I have things I need to say. A lot of things, actually.”
“Me too.”
He shot me a glance.
Anticipation and impatience tickled at my fingertips.
“We’ll discuss everything later,” he said. “But first we’ll have dinner.”
“This is just Henry and us, right?” I asked. “You’d tell me if it were a welcome back from honeymoon party for Karen and Matt, right?”
“No, I would have declined the invitation.”
Beck didn’t look at me, just pinched his eyebrows together, making his frown sterner.
“I never should have been invited to the wedding—they should have been too ashamed, and they should have been worried I’d turn up and burn the place to the ground. Not that I ever would, but I shouldn’t have been so predictably polite about it. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” he said, his expression neutral as he navigated the heavy traffic.