Dirty Rich Betrayal - Love Me Forever - Mia & Grayson

I slip back into the past, into that moment in time.

Grayson ties my belt for me and when he looks at me, the swell of emotion between us steals my breath. “Grayson,” I whisper. “It’s Chanel. It’s extravagant.”

“It matches your purse,” he points out.

“I don’t need gifts. I need the man beneath the money.”

“It’s from me to you. A gift for the woman who warms my heart. You’re beautiful, inside and out.” And when he says those words, his voice vibrates with so much love that I know that no matter which way my world spins, it will always stop right here with this man.

Grayson shuts my car door, jolting me back into the moment, and then steps to my side, his hand settling possessively on my lower back. We stare at the church, white with wooden shingles and a steeple, like something out of a country romance novel. His parents’ perfect romance novel.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say, stepping in front of him, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him know how much I mean what I’m saying. “This is where your parents got married. This was where we planned to get married. We have to get married here, not at the lighthouse.”

His hands settle on my waist. “We should get married at our place. We should make our future our own. I brought you here because I had something made for you before we broke up and this is the place I intended to give it to you.”

“On our wedding day?”

“Yes. On our wedding day.”

“Then give it to me on our new wedding day.”

“I want you to have it now. You’ll understand why once you see it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet bag. “Open it.”

My emotions are all over the place right now, jumping around, pummeling my belly and my chest. This gift was something he picked for me before I left him. It hurts to know that I changed our history. My hands all but tremble as I open the bag and pull out a delicate chain. I hold it up and suck in a breath with the sight of a delicate charm at the end of it that looks exactly like the church. “Oh my God, Grayson.”

“Turn it over,” he orders softly, his voice radiating with his own emotions.

I do as he’s commanded to read the engraved message: Grayson and Mia 8-26-18 Forever. The day we were to be married. Tears burn my eyes and a vise closes on my chest. “This is perfect, but I wasn’t. I have so many regrets, Grayson. So many regrets.”

“We’ve talked about this,” he says, cradling my face. “We both made mistakes, but we’re here now. That’s what matters. And I want you to keep that. But that history between us is a reminder to us both to never to take each other for granted.”

“Never,” I whisper, and my throat feels like wet cotton. “But I really do think we should get married here. Your parents will be our lucky charm.”

“I think we need to be our own lucky charms, you to me and me to you. The lighthouse is our special place.” His lips quirk. “We’ll tell our wedding planner better late than never.”

“Oh God. I don’t know if that woman will take us back.”

“I’m sure we can convince her.” He motions to the church. “You want to go inside?”

“Very much. After I put on my necklace.”

He helps me secure it around my neck and then hand-in-hand, we walk into the church and sit down near the front, where we talk about his mother’s stories of their perfect wedding day. “I want you to have that kind of perfect day,” Grayson says. “I have your dress. They delivered it the week after you left.”

“I told them to cancel it,” I say, remembering that call with brutal clarity. I’d barely held it together and burst into tears when I’d hung up.

“I forbid them from cancelling it. I wanted desperately for you to come back and wear it. You still can. Or any other dress you want. A new location. A new dress—”

“No,” I say quickly. “I love that dress. It’s the dress.”

“But does it remind you of the break-up?”

“No. It reminds me of how perfect we were and are.” I cover his hand with mine, thinking of something he said to me about our mistakes, about our desire to be the impossible. “I don’t want to try to be perfect anymore. I want to revel in how imperfectly wonderful we are. You are the glue that holds all my broken pieces in place. You make me whole again.”

He brings my hand to his lips, and when he looks into my eyes and lets me see all his broken pieces, all his pain, and whispers, “As you do me,” I can almost feel the world shrinking around us. “New wedding date,” he says. “August 26th, 2020.”