Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“All true.” I kissed the top of her head.
“But I should tell you that my sisters know about last weekend.”
I went still. “They do?”
“Yes. But I trust them completely. They won’t say anything. And at the time I told them, I thought we were putting an end to this.”
“We tried, didn’t we?”
“I guess so. Not very hard, though.” She sighed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. Tell me more about your new business.”
“Like what?”
“What will you call it?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She tapped my wrists. “I don’t want it to have a name that sounds like any other bridal salon—I want it to be really personal, because my vision is personal. And I don’t really want it to have anything in the name that designates it as size-specific. I plan to cater to plus-sized brides, but there might be a day in the future when the business grows enough to be completely inclusive.”
“Smart to think ahead.”
“And I’ve been thinking a lot about my brand,” she went on. “It will be elegant and feminine, luxurious but accessible, sexy but in a classy way, cozy but still fancy.”
“You just described yourself,” I told her.
She laughed. “You think so?”
“With one hundred percent accuracy.”
“It’s funny you say that because Frannie suggested I call it Millie Rose—Rose is my middle name.”
“Millie Rose. I like it. Rolls off the tongue.”
“I like it too, the more I think about it. I like the M sound at the beginning, the lilt of the L. And rose is a romantic word.”
“I just like saying your name.”
“Well, I have to think about this stuff, you know? But I do think my name has sort of a pretty, old-fashioned charm to it. It’s funny, I used to hate it.”
“Yeah?”
“Totally. My first name is really Millicent. Growing up, I didn’t know any Millicents or any Roses. It was my great-grandmother’s name, but I never met her. I wanted a name like Madison or Samantha or Chelsea. Millicent Rose just sounded like an old lady to me.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Did you like your name growing up?”
“I liked that it started with a Z. I thought that was cool.” A memory surfaced. “My little sister Poppy couldn’t say her S’s or Z’s though. She had a lisp, so when she said my name—thack—it always made me laugh. I would try so hard to get her to say it right, and she never could.”
“Aww. Tell me something else about her,” Millie said softly.
No one ever asked me about Poppy anymore. Most days I would have said that was how I wanted it, since talking about her was painful, but I wanted her to be remembered too. “She loved butterflies. She was fascinated by them and always wanted to chase them.” I chuckled. “Moths too. I don’t think she knew the difference. She just thought they were brown butterflies.”
“Did she look like you?”
“Nope. I looked like my dad. She had blond hair she used to wear in pigtails and big blue eyes.”
Millie took one of my hands and fit her palm to mine.
“I dream about her sometimes,” I confessed.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they . . . good dreams?” She laced our fingers together.
“Yes. She’s still a child, exactly how I remember her, but I’m always an adult. She wants to hold my hand, just like she always did.”
“That’s so sweet.”
I studied our interlocked hands for a moment and admitted something to her I’d never said to anyone. “I think she’s the reason why I never wanted kids.”
“What do you mean?”
“Losing her was so painful. I never wanted to feel that again.”
Millie shivered.
“You’re cold.” I worried I’d said too much. “Should we get out?”
“In a sec.” She turned over, putting us chest to chest, and pressed her lips to my collarbone. “Thanks for talking about her.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another kiss, on my jaw this time, then a seductive smile. “Want to take a hot shower with me?”
“Definitely.”
“Are you sure? I sing in the shower, you know. And I’m not good.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite song to sing in the shower?”
“It changes. This morning, it was ‘Beautiful Day’ by U2.”
“A classic.” I rubbed my thumb over her lips. “And today is beautiful.”
We said goodbye on Wednesday morning before I left for work.
“I wish I could take you to the airport,” I told her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a Cole Security car for you?”
“I’m sure,” she said, zipping up her roller bag. “I’ll just grab a cab. Let’s not risk anything to link us together.”
I laughed. “It’s not like Cole Security cars have a logo on the side, Millie. They’re totally discreet.”
“Even so,” she chided. “I’ll feel better on my own.”
“Okay.” I took her in my arms and held her tight, her head tucked beneath my chin. “Thanks for coming here.”
“I enjoyed every moment.”