Everybody’s watching.” He paused. “You stayed off social today, right?”
I nodded, turning to face him. “Val showed me a picture of the chapel. I tried to stop her, but…well, she’s not easily stopped when she’s trying to make a point.”
“Good. Stay off until tomorrow at least. Longer, if you can stand it.”
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth as he pulled out his phone. “Is it…is it bad?”
His dark eyes flicked to mine, his lips—so full and pouty—tugged up on one side. “No. It’s definitely not bad.”
I relaxed, smiling back.
“Everything’s going as planned. Better than planned, really. They love you. Everybody’s scrambling to find out anything they can.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Be grateful for that. How are your parents holding up?” He was still typing.
I wondered what he was doing but answered him rather than ask. “Fine, I think. As far as they know, we’re happily in love. They were surprised. No,” I corrected, “they were shocked. But happily shocked. They never said so, but I have a feeling they’d thought I’d be alone forever.” I laughed, though the sound was admittedly pathetic. “I probably will. But at least this is a step in the right direction.”
Tommy looked up at me then, his eyes tight and black as midnight. His jaw flexed, setting those gorgeous lips of his in a flat line. Well, as flat as they could get, full as they were. “You won’t end up alone,” he said with all the certainty of a clairvoyant.
I shook my head, smiling in a way I hoped wasn’t patronizing. “If you say so.”
“I say so,” he commanded, turning back to his phone.
I tried not to consider the possession in his voice when he’d said it, clearing my throat and changing the subject. “You’re not making me another marriage deal already, are you?”
“No. I’m texting Theo to get us a reservation. Hair and makeup will be here in a bit, along with Bea. Have you looked in the closet?”
I glanced in the direction of the door I assumed to be the closet. It was the only one I hadn’t been in—the other door led to my private bathroom. “No. I think I was more concerned with my books.”
“Unsurprising,” he teased, jerking his head in that direction. “Go look.”
I was inexplicably nervous as I crossed the room. I couldn’t imagine what was inside. Spandex and platform heels? Contoured mini dresses in jewel tones? Because if that was what he wanted me to wear, I worried I might actually cry on the spot.
He stopped what he was doing, hanging a meaty arm with a sculpted elbow on the edge of the bed to watch me. Really, even his stupid elbow was ridiculous, a smooth knob surrounded by ropes and cords of muscle.
I felt like I was opening a birthday present with the recipient waiting with expectancy for my reaction. There was no way out of it. My worry over disappointing him with my own disappointment was fierce, gripping my guts. My hand was sweaty as I reached for the doorknob.
When I opened the door, a light came on autonomously, illuminating the room and my shocked face.
I said room because it was bigger than most bedrooms in Manhattan. A small chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling, framed by floral plaster molding, shining its twinkling crystal light on three walls of clothes, shoes, handbags, and drawers.
My mouth hung open, my eyes bulging as I crossed the threshold, heading for the hanging clothes for inspection. My hands brushed a gauzy chiffon sleeve in wonder. Because surely this couldn’t be real.
The clothes were beautiful—and expensive, I wagered—and somehow, magically, they were exactly my style. Everything was tailored and modern, touched with a hint of quirk and whimsy. A Peter Pan collar here. A print covered in cats there. Bright and light and wispy. Pretty and sweet and romantic.
Maybe he was clairvoyant after all.
There were casual clothes and dressy clothes and elegant, sparkling evening clothes. There were heels and sneakers, sweaters and button-downs. Jewelry and purses and—I gasped—sweatpants. Three drawers full of sweatpants, leggings, and loungewear.
My fingers brushed my lips, and I turned, finding Tommy leaning on the doorjamb, hands in his pockets and smile so pleased.
“You got me sweatpants,” I said, staving off tears.
“I told Bea you’d want something without zippers to work in. Do you like it?” he asked, the question and his eyes touched with uncertainty and hope.
I flew across the space and threw myself into him with barely enough warning for him