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)
The last two months had been the happiest of my life. I’d moved in with her a couple weeks into January, and although I still traveled a lot for work, coming home to her was even better than I’d imagined.
Jackson had said there was no problem with me using Michigan as a home base. For now, I was keeping my job with Cole Security, but Millie and I talked a lot about the whiskey bar idea, and she’d introduced me to a family member of hers who’d opened up a microbrewery here in town. He was a great guy and offered to talk to me about business any time.
All of Millie’s extended family was great, actually—I’d met a ton of them by now, and they were a close, welcoming bunch. I saw Mason quite a bit too. Lori was due any day now, and the two of them were beside themselves with excitement. I was happy for them, even if I wasn’t thrilled about being a grandpa at my age.
But life was good.
And it was about to get better.
MILLIE
“You’re sure you can do it in time?” I fretted.
“I’m positive. It already fits you near perfectly.” Diane stuck one more pin in the dress I had on, a stunning gown that fit snugly over my upper body and flared out beneath the hips. It had long sleeves and an illusion bodice, and the lace was Chantilly. None of the other dresses Olivia had been slated to wear could be altered in time, but this one was my favorite, so I was really hoping it could be in the show. Diane stood up and patted my shoulder, checking my reflection in the mirror. “Gorgeous. I’m sorry none of the other dresses fit, but I promise this one will be done.”
“Okay. Thank you so much.” I stepped off the riser, holding the dress off the floor. “I’m just going to run home and do my hair. I’ll swing by to pick up the dress when I’m on my way back to the show.”
“Sounds good.” Diane smiled and followed me to the dressing room. “I’ll help you take it off.”
At home, I raced frantically up the stairs and jumped into the shower. Zach was already gone—he’d left about an hour ago for the airport to catch a flight to Denver. A job had cropped up last-minute, and he’d offered to turn it down so he could be at the show, but I’d told him it was okay. He was so supportive of me and my work in every possible way, from taking care of dinner on my late nights to maintenance work in the shop to giving the best foot rubs ever if I’d been standing all day.
I missed him when he was gone, but his homecomings were always a thrill. We’d been talking more often about the day when he might stop working for Cole Security and start a business around here, but I never put any pressure on him. Nor did I question when he might schedule his reversal surgery. We weren’t exactly taking things slowly (had we ever?), but he’d upended his life and moved across the country for me. It was enough for now.
After my shower, I blew out my hair, curled it, and pinned up the back, leaving some pieces in the front to frame my face. We had a makeup artist for the show, so I left my face bare, stuck my heels in my bag, and pulled on sweats and sneakers.
As I was tying my shoes, I caught a glimpse of my tattoo and smiled. It was an anchor, placed on my inner forearm so it would mirror the one Zach got for me. I liked looking at them side by side—the compass a symbol of guidance, the anchor a symbol of stability. Whenever I saw it, I was reminded of Zach, not just because he’d been a sailor, but because his presence in my life was solid, strong, and comforting.
When he held me, I was home.
Back at the venue, there was a surprise—Olivia, the model who’d texted me that she had to cancel her appearance, was there.
“My dad is doing much better,” she told me. “I ended up not having to leave town. I just texted you.”
“I’m so glad,” I said. “But shoot! I didn’t get your message in time and one of your dresses was altered to fit me.”
“No big deal.” She smiled and patted my arm. “You wear it. I’m sure it’s stunning on you. I’ll just model the other three looks.”
As the makeup artist was finishing with me, Winnie came over, a clipboard in her hand. “Couple things,” she said. “We switched the order of the show. You’re going to be last.”
“What?” My heart started to thud. I didn’t love last-minute changes, and I already felt like I had whiplash today. “Why?”