“Do you feel any different this morning?” he asked.
She looked out the window on to the brilliant spring day. She gave him a small, sheepish smile.
“This morning I’m feeling like...it’s an awfully pretty day for a wedding.”
His face remained sober for a stretched moment.
Then he smiled the sort of smile a woman remembers for a long, long time.
* * *
At ten forty-five that morning, Faith was cursing herself for not asking Mari or Jane or anyone to help her get ready. Yes, she knew very well that this was a marriage of convenience, so why in the world had she let Mari talk her into buying the highly romantic silk, strapless, vintage-inspired gown? She started to work up a sweat as she tried to zip it herself, and had to force herself to pause and take some calming breaths.
Her face looked anxious in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Her heart pounded in her ears. She hadn’t been anywhere near this nervous for her wedding to Jesse.
If you don’t want to do it, don’t, a voice in her head said firmly.
It was as if reminding herself that she had a choice helped to stabilize her faltering resolution. She was doing this for one reason—a good reason. The baby. It had nothing to do with how she felt about Ryan, or how he felt about her...or even how he didn’t feel about her.
Surely she wasn’t so selfish as to deny her child the most secure future she could possibly grant it?
She twisted the dress sufficiently to zip it and slid it back into place. She examined herself in the mirror. Maybe Mari’s advice had been perfect, after all. The vintage ivory color worked well with her skin tone. She wore her hair down and curled loosely. It spilled around her bare shoulders. She had a wrap, but thanks to the ideal spring day with temperatures in the mid-seventies, she wouldn’t need it. The intricate ruched detail around the bodice did a nice job of disguising her expanding breasts. The thing she loved most about the dress, however, was the flowing, light skirt. It made her feel airy and feminine and...
...very much like a bride.
She felt every bit as jittery as a bride on her wedding day when she left her bedroom a moment later and walked into the living room. Ryan was waiting for her, his hands folded behind his back and staring out the front picture window on to the bright spring day.
He turned. She froze.
He wore his Air Force dress uniform, and he looked...amazing. The dark blue coat and trousers were perfectly tailored to his tall form. A matching bow tie, silver trimmed shoulder boards and sleeve braid added to his immaculate, elegant, yet utterly masculine appearance.
She smiled.
“I had no idea you were going to wear your uniform.”
“I hope it’s okay.”
“You look...fantastic.”
“You look like something out of a dream.”
Faith blinked. He’d sounded so quiet, so matter-of-fact, it took her a moment to absorb his compliment. She blushed.
“Thank you.”
“Just a second,” he said, walking toward the kitchen. When he returned, he held a gorgeous bouquet of white roses, pale orchids and sprays of apple and cherry blossoms. “Every bride is supposed to have flowers.”
She accepted the bouquet. “Oh, thank you,” she said feelingly. “It’s gorgeous. When did you ever have time to get it?”
“I picked it up this morning while you were in the shower. After I got my haircut,” he said.
“It’s almost military short again.”
“We’re not allowed to wear a dress uniform without a regulation haircut. Even as veterans,” he said, returning her smile. “Well? Are you ready to go?”
Something new had joined her anxiety when she’d seen Ryan standing there in his dress uniform, so handsome, tall and proud. A fullness unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life filled her chest cavity, making her feel breathless with anticipation, excited and thrilled to be alive.
“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.