“I feel like a sack of cement,” Loren whispers. “And you’ve been lugging me around forever. Are you absolutely dying?”
“I am not.”
Okay, yes, I am a little bit, just not in the way Loren means.
“Then you must bereallystrong,” she chuckles, hopefully getting a second wind.
“I do work out more in the summer, but I hardly?—”
“Okay, got it!” Sayla calls out. “Cut!”
Loren exhales, sagging in my arms. “Are we really finished?”
“We are.” Sayla grins. "Great job, you two.”
I set Loren down gently, holding on to her for a moment longer than necessary, just to be sure she’s steady on her feet. Not because I’m reluctant to let go.
Mostly.
“If you guysreallywant to sell the ruse,” Sayla says, “you could take some more candid shots tonight and a few selfies in the morning. Casual pics with no makeup. Bed head. Pajamas. You get the idea. Send everything to me, and I’ll work up some good stuff to send to Margaret.”
I don’t love the word ruse, but I do love the smile that finds Loren's face.
And her bedhead. And pajamas.
“You really are the best,” she tells Sayla.
“Yep.” Dex smirks. “We really are.”
Sayla punches his shoulder lightly. “She was talking to me.”
“I was talking to both of you,” Loren says, her eyes soft. “We can’t thank you enough. Honestly.”
“Well, you are honestly welcome.” Sayla nods toward the open door. “And I hope you two manage to get some sleep tonight.”
At this Dex scoffs. “Forget sleep.” He grins. “Have fun storming the castle!”
After Dex and Sayla leave, I move Loren’s bags into the first-floor suite, where we’d already agreed she’d stay. Then I headto the kitchen, expecting to find her seated at the island, chowing down on tacos like a champ.
But the space is empty, except for lots of marble, and two food-truck bags by the stove.
“Loren?”
She’s not in the library, either, which is the next place I search. My new wife is a book-loving English teacher, after all, and the library here is pretty spectacular, with wall-to-wall books and luxurious furniture. But still no luck.
Stepping out into the enormous hallway, I’m starting to second-guess this place. Sure my mom will be impressed, but I almost feel like I could lose Loren in here. Not literally, but the square footage alone makes me feel like we’re living in two different worlds.
Or planets.
“LOREN!” I call out louder, from the bottom of the grand staircase.
“I’m up here!” Her voice floats past the chandeliers and echoes against the vaulted ceilings. She’s gone to the top floor. So I take the stairs, two at a time, and find her on the balcony off the last suite down the hall.
The room where I stuckmybags.
My foolproof plan was to put as much distance as possible between my wife and me. Less possibility of accidentally running into her in a state of partial undress. I’m pretty sure my eyes would never recover from something like that.
Unfortunately, the vision I’m treated to now doesn’t do my heart any favors, either. My bride is breathtaking in her wedding dress, more beautiful than any sunset.