Page 88 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
Someone in the parking lot slammed their door, reminding us we weren’t alone. Beck backed me into the door, lips still on mine. He snaked a hand around my waist to twist the handle then swung us inside. The door clinked shut, and Beck pressed me to it. He braced one of his hands against the door and slid the other across my hip. I sighed, letting myself melt into him.
He kissed along my jaw and then down my neck, only to bury his face there. He took a long inhale before speaking. “I’m glad you feel all those things with me. But one day, I hope I’ll make you feel safe too,” he said tenderly, then placed the softest kiss on my collarbone. “Because all I ever want to do is take care of you.” He planted another kiss on the bridge of my nose before looking back into my eyes. “I hate that this trip has ruined that image for you.”
I immediately thought of him pulling me out of a snake’s path, letting me cry on his shoulder, skinning his knees to catch me, and holding my hand in a hospital. The memories came tumbling forward all at once. I shook my head. “Beck, no—”
“I hate that you’ll be going back to The Arlow Group with Wesley knowing about us,” he continued. “That I talked you into lying to him.”
I smiled. “Luckily, I’ll only be there for another two weeks.” Beck had gone to move a strand of hair behind my ear, but his hand fell to my shoulder at that. He pulled back, eyebrows drawn as if he thought he hadn’t heard me correctly. “I quit too.” I laughed, delighted to have shocked him. “I’m going to give calligraphy a real chance. Maybe we can even salvage what Hailey started with Lettering Lane.”
The sight of Beck’s smile, reaching all the way up to his eyes, seized my heart. “Emily Lane, you amaze me.”
Then his mouth was back on mine as he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, squeezing him tight. The rest of the world dissolved, like sugar on the tongue.
Chapter 26
Ismoothed a hand over the front of my dress and took one last look in the mirror. I’d let my hair down; the ends flowed along the front of the black V-neck. At the waist, the fabric changed. Palm leaves covered its maxi skirt. When I shifted my weight, my leg peeked out of a thigh-high slit. The bandage on my arm didn’t match the outfit, but I decided risking infection wasn’t worth being completely on point.
Beck had left early to rehearse for the ceremony with the rest of the wedding party, so I was on my own for the ceremony—if one could truly be alone in a crowd of one hundred and fifty people. Luckily for Victoria and her guests, the storm in Houston had broken in the wee hours of the morning. By the talk in the lobby, most of the guests had been able to get a flight in time. The core friends and family had come days early or taken their own private jets anyway.
Following the crowd to the beach, the altar came into view with its macrame curtain framed by thick bamboo. A floral arrangement of bright, peachy tropical flowers and widespread leaves topped it off. Matching arrangements sat at the end of each aisle. They looked as though locals had picked them up an hour ago, only to be carefully tamed into classy bunches by a skilled and tireless florist.
Stacked on a tower of crates, my own signage greeted me.
Welcome to our wedding.
Shoes here.
Vows there.
It was all a very expensive boho vibe. Ditch the Jimmy Choo heels, but wear the Saks Fifth Avenue dress. Not me, of course. Mine cost thirty dollars on Amazon.
I scanned the crowd, stupidly looking for a friend to sit by before remembering I’d alienated myself by lying to the ten people I knew in attendance here—Beck not included. But then there sat Sebastian, waving from his place on the third row. I turned around, sure he meant the wave for someone else. But no. He smiled at me.
“Sit by me,” he pleaded. “Nick’s the best man, and if this seat is not occupied, his pyramid scheme cousin will try to sell me whatever she’s wrapped in now, and I’ll end up guilt-purchasing essential oils.”
I took the seat. “Can’t have that. Victoria would not approve of soliciting at her wedding.”
Sebastian laughed. “No, she would not.” Then he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “I’m actually surprised you’re here. I heard you caused quite the drama, Emily.”
I flushed and watched my coral-painted toes sink into the sand. “About that. I’m sorry for lying to you.”
“Victoria said you were trying to save your sister’s business.” He gave me an assessing look.
“That.” I tilted my head. “And I wanted to see if I could hold my own in the calligraphy world.” I met his eyes. “I understand if you want to go with another calligrapher for your event.”
“Hell no!” His outburst caused a little white-haired old lady to turn, face pinched. “Sorry,” he said to her, maybe a little too sweetly, before turning back to me. “Listen, lying about your first name was weird, for sure. But I would have sold my soul if it meant my business’ success when I first started. So, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Besides, I’ve watched you work. I know your calligraphy is legit. Just make sure I have the right name for Venmo.”
“Okay,” I said, relief bubbling out of me in a giggle. Maybe Lettering Lane had a fighting chance.
We quieted down as the string quartet started playing something slow and sweet. Doug led his men to the altar. He wore a full khaki suit, but the rest of the guys had a laid-back wedding look: no jacket, and the long-sleeved shirts were rolled halfway up their forearms. I could see the edge of Beck’s tattoo peeping out from his sleeve first. Nick blocked the rest of his frame until they turned a corner. I followed the trail up a bicep that had held me close last night across the span of the chest I had used as a pillow. Up the throat with my favorite freckle in the world. My eyes grazed the lips I could spend an entire life kissing but never have enough of. Then I snagged on waiting eyes.
He seemed trapped by my stare as he took his place on the altar.
You look beautiful, he mouthed.
