Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(36)
“I know how to take care of myself. I have my Glock and my knife, and I won’t be entirely alone. I’m meeting Ashley.”
“You are?” He quirks a brow. “I didn’t think you two were that close.”
“We’re not, but she’s helping me with something.” I tweak his nose again. “Something important.” I peck his lips superfast. “Something secret.” I waggle my brows.
He sighs. “Saint won’t like this.”
“I’ll probably be back before he even knows I’m gone.” My tongue darts out, wetting my lips, and I love the instant hungry glaze that glints in Caz’s eyes and how his gaze automatically lowers to my mouth. “Actually, let’s meet at the barn. We need to talk.”
“You mean…”
I kiss him quickly, smiling as I ease out of his hold. “I’ve made my decision.” I swat his ass as I walk in the direction of the garage. “I’ll text you when I’m done.” Blowing him one final kiss, I leave the kitchen.
Sliding behind Dad’s Gran Turismo is comforting. It’s a bit like returning to your own bed after weeks of sleeping in a hotel bed. I make a mental note to ask the guys about my Lexus. I’ve no clue what happened to it after the bomb. I know it’s virtually indestructible, and the bomb didn’t go off underneath my SUV, but I imagine the damage was still extensive. I don’t know if it’s salvageable or if I should be ordering a new custom one. The reasons Dad wanted me to drive it haven’t changed, and it would give the guys peace of mind when I go off by myself.
The engine on the sports car hums beautifully when I power her up, and I settle back in my seat, cranking the music up high as I peel out of the garage, heading toward the city.
Ashley is waiting outside the studio when I arrive an hour later.
“Harlow.” She leans in, hugging me. “It’s good to see you out and about. You seemed in so much pain at the funeral.”
“I’m okay. Still in one piece. I’ve a couple of minor cuts and scrapes, and there is some lingering bruising and soreness around my ribs, but I’ve endured worse.”
“I was talking about emotional pain. How are you holding up?”
I shrug. “To be honest, I’m trying not to think about it. We have a lot on our plate, and we can’t afford for me to fall apart.” Pressure settles on my chest. “She’s still the first thing on my mind every day though,” I truthfully admit.
“I know no one can ever replace Sariah, but I meant what I said at the church. I’m here for you.”
“I appreciate it, and thanks for setting up this appointment. Especially at such short notice, and on a Sunday too.”
Her face lights up, and she loops her arm through mine. “I was glad to help. Michelle takes amazing pictures, and my family sends a lot of business her way, so she didn’t mind doing this today.”
We head into the studio, and Ashley introduces me to the photographer, leaving us to talk about my ideas while she goes to grab takeout coffee from the little coffee place down the road.
The photo shoot is fun, and I’m grinning like a loon, imagining the expression on the guys’ faces when they see them, as we step out into the chilly November air a couple hours later.
Ashley and I grab a quick bite to eat at a Mexican diner before parting ways. I had thought of inviting her to come with me to the vintage designer store, but I dismissed the idea as fast. While she’s given me no reason to distrust her, too much is riding on this strategy to let anyone else know what we’re planning to do.
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I STEP INTO the store, fluffing out my hair and removing my scarf as I wait for one of the assistants to approach me. I have shopped at this store before, so I’m hoping they’ll have something that fits my vision. I know I could purchase something off-the-rack in one of the wedding stores, but I highly doubt a traditional wedding store will have the type of look I’m after, and we’re tight on time because this will be a quick courthouse wedding.
The store manager, Maggie, recognizes me, rushing forward to greet me, hugging me like I’m a long-lost friend. I explain what I’m after, and she squeals, rubbing her hands in delight, while she dashes around the store, grabbing a few items.
A half hour later, I’m standing in front of the mirror in the changing area, fighting a massive grin.
“You look absolutely perfect,” Maggie says, fluffing out the white layered tulle skirt. I fix the white lace leggings in place, admiring how shapely they make my legs look. “It’s definitely got that whole Madonna eighties vibe. You’re gorgeous.”
“I love it.” I hold out my arms, and she slips the short, white, fitted jacket over my arms. It complements the outfit, ensuring it doesn’t come across as slutty. My midriff is on display, because the tight white crop top stops a few inches under my boobs, but the neckline is high, so it’s not indecent. I opt for a pair of white high heels with a silver trim, and a sparkly silver clutch completes the look.
She packages up the clothing and boxes up the shoes and purse, and then I’m on my merry way.
I stop at a wedding store to pick up the silver tiara I ordered last night, because a queen can’t get married without a crown, duh, and then I visit the jewelry store I found online, explaining the type of wedding band I’m after to the amused man behind the counter. The second he takes out the tray, I spot the perfect ring. It’s a link wedding band in black tungsten, and there’s enough room on the inside to add the inscription I want.