Sweet Love - Mia Kayla Page 0,74

think about. Your exhibit.”

Yeah, but too bad filming had to happen before that.

“And who cares about your mom or your stepdad? Because your favorite people will be there to support you.” Casey’s gaze flipped to Alyssa, grabbing her hand. “We’ll be there. Now, group hug.”

Alyssa groaned. “Casey …”

“Come on! I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Both girls—ones who I’d only known for a short period of time—hugged me fiercely, and in that moment, I wanted to cry because I’d never had this before, this camaraderie.

Chapter 24

Connor

We were filming the wedding scene today around the city of Chicago. The air was humid, but the sky was clear, and I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to film.

I was sitting in my car, watching the film crew set up on Monroe Harbor, in front of Lake Michigan.

Many weeks ago, when Charlie and I had discussed a family feel to Colby Chocolates, she’d mentioned that in every occasion from dating to anniversaries, people celebrated with chocolate or candies. Students gave their teachers candies for Valentine’s Day or boyfriends brought flowers and chocolates on their first date and also on their anniversaries. Chocolates and candies were universal gifts. It was Charlie’s idea to go with that theme, and she couldn’t have been more spot-on.

According to her, the beginning of a couple’s life together into forever began with marriage. This would be the ending scene in our commercial, capturing the feel of the whole campaign and hopefully winning my father over.

I turned to the knock on my window. It was Charlie.

She slipped into the passenger seat, and my breath caught. She was in a form-fitting, elegant white dress that hugged her in all the right places. Her hair was pulled up with curls flowing endlessly down her back.

I took her in and was caught speechless because she was breathtakingly beautiful.

I swallowed. Hard.

“It’s hot out there.” She pulled down the visor and fluffed out a few of her curls.

“It’s hot in here,” I said, taking her in.

She had makeup on—not a lot, but enough to make the green in her eyes pop. Her lips were a pinkish color that made me want to bite them to see if they could get any pinker.

“You’re beautiful,” I said without a second thought.

Her eyes met mine, and her cheeks reddened, making the color she’d put on even more prominent. She focused her attention to the mirror on the visor. “You think?” With her ring finger, she fixed some of her eye shadow.

“I know.”

“Do you think I look okay?”

I pulled down her hand, forcing her to face me. “Stop. You’re perfect.”

And she was, wasn’t she. Beautiful, smart, creative, caring, and the list went on forever.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now.” My gaze flickered to her lips and back to meet her eyes. “But I’ll be good. We’re filming in ten minutes.”

She lightly patted my cheek and smiled. “Thanks for being good.”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’m not that good. I showed you how naughty I could be last night.”

She attempted to slap my shoulder, but I caught her hand midair. I kissed her open palm and intertwined our fingers.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I’d been thinking about this for a long time. I’d had this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach until I came up with the most brilliant idea.

“This weekend, meaning two days from now?” She blinked. “Finishing my paintings for my exhibit?” she answered my question with a question. “Given that this is the last portion of the presentation to your dad, I figured I really needed to prep and finish a few more paintings before next week’s exhibit.”

“Can you finish that during the week because I want to take you somewhere?”

She smiled. “Where?”

“To New York.”

And that gorgeous smile slipped. “Why?” She blinked up at me, doe-eyed and stunning.

“To show you around. To show you New York because you’ve never been. Show you my place. Take you to a Broadway play. To thank you for all you’ve done for me and my family.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “I … I’m not sure.”

“You don’t think you can get away?”

“That’s not it. But I just don’t know.”

There was a long, pregnant pause after that.

“But?” I prompted.

“What’s the point? We agreed that we’ll both be miserable after you leave. What’s the point of me going to New York, seeing your life there, knowing you’re leaving your life here?” There was a tinge of bitterness in her tone.

I got