Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,40

for your mom the way you are. She’s just so lucky to have you, just as lucky as you are to have her.”

“If you’d asked her how lucky she felt when I was in high school, she might have had a different answer,” I joked.

But Amelia said, “Oh, I bet she wouldn’t have.”

And once again, Amelia was right.

I switched gears, bringing us back to the task at hand—our impending nuptials.

“Theo sent me with all the papers,” I said, setting down my drink and reaching into my bag for the folder of legal documents.

She sobered, taking them. One by one, she took the stapled packets out and flipped through them.

“If you need a lawyer to look them over for you, let me know, and I’ll have someone at the hotel to help decipher them.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I think I can suss it out. And anyway, I trust you. As long as the prenup goes both ways, we should be fine.”

“It does,” I said, smiling. “The disclosure contract is flexible and vague, but the gist of it is that you’re bound to keep up the pretense of our marriage until we’re divorced. After that, you’ll be able to publish the article, subject matter to be determined.”

“I had an idea about that. What if it was titled ‘My Year with Thomas Bane’? It could be a great angle for the editorial, include a bit about your past, about working with you. About who you are, the man I’ll come to know.”

“That’s genius, Amelia. Let’s pitch it to Janessa in a few days.”

She squirmed. “We’re going to tell her?”

“It’s the only way to get her to promise to get you the job, and it’ll buy us some time. Otherwise, she’ll be on us like a stain.”

“All right,” she said, though she didn’t look convinced.

So I reached for her hand, feeling the fine bones under my palm. “Don’t worry, Amelia. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

And when she smiled, her fears seemed to fade. And I felt like a conqueror for banishing them.

The plane whirred as we picked up speed, my stomach lurching when the wheels left the ground. Up and away we went, the city stretching up in the distance and our future stretched out before us.

And watching the wonder on Amelia’s face as she peered out the window, a comfort settled over me, the rightness that came with a decision made wisely.

There was no one I’d rather be hitched to, for better or for worse.

Chapel O' What?

Amelia

I never thought my first kiss would be on my wedding day.

I should have been more worried about the fact that I was about to marry a virtual stranger as I waited beyond the doors of the chapel, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses. I should have been more concerned with impending fame, the shock of becoming a public figure, or—perhaps most importantly—the logistics of pretending to be in love with a man I didn’t know.

But in that moment, I was far more preoccupied with the kiss waiting at the end of the aisle.

I took a breath, pressing my free hand to the bodice of my dress, catching a glimpse of myself in the floor-length mirrors flanking the white wooden doors of the chapel.

Tommy had a crew of people waiting in the suite for us, as promised. The personal shopper had brought almost three-dozen dresses, long and short, tight and flowing, white and ivory and every shade in between. But the second I’d seen this one, I’d known it was the one.

The color was a creamy, dreamy champagne—white I’d decided to reserve for my real wedding—the skirts composed of layer after layer after layer of tulle. The topmost was adorned with delicate lace in a pattern that trailed off the bodice like wisteria. The tea-length hem was trimmed with eyelash lace, the waist bound with a thin ribbon, the bodice fitted with a sweetheart neckline. But the lace kept going, capping my shoulders, the neckline wide, framing my collarbone and neck.

I looked like a bride from a fifties magazine, especially once my hair had been coiffed and makeup had been applied.

My fair hair had been brushed and waved and shined until it gleamed, slipping over my shoulders in a style matching the dress, echoing an era long ago. False eyelashes made my already too big eyes so much bigger. And my lips were red as blood. I’d brought the tube I’d gotten with my friends, a pact we’d all made to be bold and brave.