Rock Wedding (Rock Kiss #4) - Nalini Singh Page 0,85
in her room, then nodded at the wide-open wardrobe. “You always look stunning in color.”
Taking the hint and happy to have some direction on a day when she felt as if the ground had fallen out from under her feet, Sarah pulled out several dresses in bold colors. “This one’s my favorite,” she said, holding up a dress that was pure sunset. Not orange or red or yellow but a stunning color that was a blend of all three.
Despite the vivid shade, the dress itself was light and summery with a high neckline. The dress hugged her body to the hips before opening out just slightly into a bias cut skirt. “I don’t really look good in A-line dresses that have a flowy skirt, but this gives me that feeling while suiting my body.”
Stop babbling, Sarah, ordered the small part of her brain that wasn’t completely thrown by having her ex-mother-in-law sitting in her bedroom.
“It’s a wonderful choice.” A twinkle in her eye, Diane added, “And my dear, if I had a figure like yours, I wouldn’t care about full-skirted dresses. I’d be buying up as many slinky, body-hugging things as I could!”
Sarah was surprised into a snorting laugh.
Horrified, she clapped her hand over her mouth, but instead of frowning at the unladylike sound, Diane threw back her head and laughed until Sarah was cracking up again.
Ducking into her large attached bathroom after she’d finally caught her breath, the right bra for the dress in hand, she left the door partially open so she could talk to Diane while she dressed. The distance made it easier to say, “Abe told you?” She had to know if her former mother-in-law had all the facts.
“About the baby?” Pure joy in those words. “I’m so happy for you both. And for myself. I’m already planning how I’ll spoil my first grandbaby.”
Knees a bit shaky, Sarah leaned against the wall to catch her breath. She wanted to say so many things, admit her fears, but the words wouldn’t come. So she finished putting on the dress before walking out into the bedroom.
“You’re lovely.” Getting up with that sweet comment, Diane put her cup on a bedside table, then took a seat on the bed so Sarah could sit at the vanity to do her makeup.
Sarah’s hands threatened to shake as she picked up her compact.
“Losing a child is difficult.”
The quiet words had Sarah forgetting all about the makeup. Dropping the compact, she turned to face the other woman’s eyes, eyes that held an old, deep sadness. “Yes.” It came out raw, torn out of her.
Abe’s mother just held out her arms.
Sarah went into them in a jerk of emotion, let herself be held in a soft maternal embrace by a woman who understood the loss of her baby as even Abe couldn’t. She and Diane didn’t speak, just held each other.
LATER, AFTER SARAH HAD WASHED OFF HER FACE and hidden the ravages of tears with makeup, she glanced at her hair and sighed. If she tried to fully dry and straighten it now, they’d miss their dinner reservation. So she got out the curly-hair goop she kept on hand for emergencies and worked it into her wildly kinky hair so that at least it wouldn’t go fuzzy.
That done, she picked up her treasured pearl necklace from the special velvet-lined box where she always kept it… and saw Diane dab away another tear of her own.
It made her smile, hope a bright flame in her heart now.
Necklace on, she found her shoes, her purse. “Thank you,” she said as the two of them prepared to go downstairs, Abe and Flossie having returned ten minutes earlier.
Diane turned to tuck Sarah’s hair behind her ear, cup her cheek, her next words intense with emotion. “I’m here for you, Sarah. Anytime you want to talk about the baby, ask my advice, anything at all. Even if it’s Abe you’re angry with, don’t feel you can’t come to me and talk.” Dark shadows in her eyes. “And call me Mom, okay? I so terribly miss having a daughter.”
Sarah nodded jerkily, swallowed back the surge of emotion inside her, and—after a quick hug—they both headed down the stairs. The big man who waited at the foot of those stairs looked at Sarah in a way that tangled her up until she could hardly breathe.
Flushing, she stopped so that they were eye-to-eye. “What?”
He ran his fingers through her curls. “You.” A quiet murmur, his touch a possessive promise. “I’m not letting