Take Me (Stark Trilogy 3.1)

My brow furrows as I wonder what he could be up to, but I nod. “That gives me plenty of time to make the circuit and eat more chocolate. Come with?”

“Of course,” he says, then follows me to the chocolate fondue station. Alaine is there, and we chat for a while. Then Alaine and Damien go off to talk with Blaine and Evelyn. Since I have something to ask Evelyn, I almost follow them, but Ollie approaches, and I pause to give him a hug.

“Hey, deposition guy. How goes the wild and woolly world of civil litigation?”

“Wild and woolly,” he replies with a grin. “And over. At least for a few weeks.” He waves to Charles Maynard, his boss, then leads me into a corner. “Charles asked if I wanted a transfer back to New York.”

“Really? Why?”

“Courtney, I think. I asked for the transfer to LA originally to be closer to her. Now that we’re not a couple . . .” He trails off.

“Are you going to take him up on the offer?” Ollie and I haven’t been as close lately, but I know that I will miss him if he moves.

“Thinking about it. But I’m on the fence. I love Manhattan, but LA has its perks, too.” He looks at me as if there is something else he wants to say.

“What?”

He hesitates, then barrels forward. “Do you think there’s any chance of repairing the damage with Courtney?”

I feel my shoulders sag. “You fucked up, Ollie. Big time. We all love you. Hell, she loves you. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t, either.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” he says, then hugs me. “I’m glad.”

I return the hug tightly, thinking that this is another nice thing about weddings—it lets you clear out the last of the ghosts lingering in your past.

I make the circuit, chatting with Ryan and Edward, with Steve and Anderson. Charles and Blaine come up and I try to get some sense of where Charles stands on Ollie’s move, but he’s saying nothing.

Sylvia and Ms. Peters and others on Damien’s staff are here as well. And, of course, there’s Evelyn.

“I’ve been trying to corner you all night,” I say to her.

“Funny, I was just thinking that you were the popular one.” She steps back and examines me in that sentimental way folks have of looking at brides before the wedding. “You’re good for him, Texas. Hell, you’re good for each other.”

“Yes, we are,” I say. “Did Damien tell you about my mother?”

“I heard some of it from him,” she admits. “I think I heard the rest from Jamie.”

I grin. That doesn’t really surprise me.

“I sent her packing,” I say. “And I never asked her to walk me down the aisle, even though she’s the only parent I’ve got.”

“Parent?” she repeats. “You know better than that, Texas. Family’s what you make of it, and that woman may have given birth to you, but she’s not your family, not really.”

I look around this room filled with friends, and have to nod. “I know,” I say. “But you’re family, and I love you.” I take a deep breath. “Would you walk me down the aisle?”

I think I see tears in her eyes, but I don’t say anything. I just give her a moment to gather herself, even while I’m holding close to my heart the knowledge that my request moved her. “Hell yes, Texas,” she finally says. “You better believe I will.”

Moments later, Damien calls me over to where he stands chatting with Evan. He pulls a flat silver box out of his pocket, and hands it to me.

“I can open it?”

“Of course.”

I rip the paper off. I lift the top off to reveal a beautiful necklace with a silver chain and sunshine-yellow gemstones. “Damien, it’s lovely.” I glance down at the emerald ankle bracelet I always wear, feeling spoiled.

“I remembered the flowers on your wedding gown. I thought this would match them.”

My heart twists at his thoughtfulness. “But that was the first dress,” I explain.

“I know,” he says, as Evan reaches over and grabs a large box off the floor. He sets it on the table, and I look between the two men with curiosity. “Go ahead,” Damien urges. “Open it. I think you’ll find the necklace appropriate, after all.”

Wary, I pull off the lid, and find myself gazing down at my beautiful, missing wedding dress.

“How—?”

“I have a few friends who have a unique ability to track down internationally shipped items that have gone missing,” Evan says.

“Oh.” I glance at Damien, wondering if that means what I think it does. But his face reveals nothing. To be honest, I really don’t care how or where he found my dress. I’m just glad it’s arrived.

“Alyssa’s coming to the house in the morning. She’ll take care of any alterations on-site,” Damien adds, and I lean over and kiss him impulsively, this man who takes such exceptionally good care of me.

“Thank you,” I say to Damien, then turn to include Evan. “Thank you both. You saved me.”

A sense of relief sweeps over me, and for the first time since I started this wedding planning thing, I feel truly stress-free. It feels nice.

I reach out and hold tight to Damien’s hand. This, I think, is the only thing that’s important.

The party continues until well into the night, and it’s almost two by the time we get home. I’m about to strip and fall into bed when I realize that I’ve missed a call. I put the phone on speaker and listen as the message plays.

“Hi, Nikki, this is Lauren with the flowers for tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know that we’re all set. It was last minute, but we were happy to make the change.”

I frown and glance at Damien, who looks as confused as I feel.

“So we’ll be there in the morning to set up, this time with the lilies and gardenias. And we’re sending a selection over to Sally, too, for the cake. Thanks again, and we can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Congratulations again to you and Damien.”

The call ends, and I stare at the phone like it is a serpent.

What the fuck?

What the bloody fuck ?

“She switched them,” I say. “My mother actually fucked with my wedding.” I meet Damien’s gaze. I know mine is angry. His is murderous. Not because of the flowers—I sincerely doubt he cares about sunflowers versus gardenias—but because of what that woman has done to me over and over and over.