“It is. I just hope it goes as planned. If she walks away...”
Linda nods, understanding the seriousness of what I am doing. “It’s going to be okay, Samson, either way.”
I run my hand over my beard, thinking she is wrong. I don’t know how I can live without Ava Grace. This past month has been torture. Without having an email from her every day, I’m going through withdrawals.
“And the ring?” I ask.
“Here you are,” she says, reaching into a drawer and presenting me with a ring box.
I open it, my throat tight. The workmanship is incomparable. If I thought the fireplace was a work of art, then this must be a masterpiece.
“It’s perfect,” I say, closing the lid and slipping it in my coat pocket. “I need to get going. The rehearsal dinner is in an hour, and I need to change before I go.”
“Of course, a suit is laid out in your room.”
“Thank you, Linda. For coordinating this for me. I couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”
“Now you just need to go get the girl, and bring her home.”
I nod, tense, knowing nothing is ever that simple, ever so easy.
Especially when hearts are on the line.
The rehearsal is set for four o’clock, and afterward we are having dinner. I pull up to The Historic Claremont a half hour early, wondering what room Ava Grace is staying in. The wedding and reception are both being held here, and after the wedding, the twenty guests are invited to stay at the hotel for an additional four days to ski and relax with the bride and groom.
That isn’t what I plan on doing, though.
Getting out of my truck, I pat my pocket, triple checking that the ring is there. I don’t know when the perfect moment will present itself.
Once inside, I text Taylor letting him know I’ve arrived and he tells me to join him at the hotel bar.
I find him with a handful of friends, the other two groomsmen, Sophia’s father, and some older men that I assume are her extended family.
“Hey, Samson,” Taylor calls, standing up and clapping my back in greeting. I shake the hand of the guys I met at the bachelor party, and reintroduce myself to Sophia’s father, Troy, hoping to steal him away before the night is through.
“Look at you,” I say, shaking my head, a grin spreading over my face. “Can’t believe you’re getting hitched.”
“Luckiest man in the world,” Taylor says, nodding in agreement. “Sophia’s here, want to say hello?” As we walk over, he makes a comment about Ava, how she’s been a wreck over seeing me. How I better not fuck anything up this weekend. He smiles when he says that last part, but I know how much this day means to him. He is making a family, the one thing he and I haven’t had for so much of our lives.
“So, you know... everything?” I ask.
“Of course. Women talk, but sisters? Hell, they are all up in one another’s business.”
“Right.” I try not to let his words discourage me and I follow him to a group of women, scanning the room for Ava Grace, not seeing her anywhere. Sophia wraps her arms around me; genuinely happy to see me and all I can think is she wouldn’t be so nice if she were on Team-I-Hate-Samson.
“You ready for the big day?” I ask, trying to keep things light, easy—not about Ava and me.
“I thought I’d ask the same question of you. Nervous?” she asks.
“About what? I’m not the one marrying this bastard,” I joke, squeezing my little brother’s shoulders.
“I mean about seeing Ava... it’s been a month since...”
“Since I fucked everything up?” I offer.
Sophia grimaces, yet still managing to look in control. She’s wearing a fitted green dress, her hair straight, a small string of diamonds on her neck. Elegant and poised, just like her mother Cora who is a few feet away talking with other guests.
“Speak of the devil,” Taylor says, nodding, looking over my shoulder. I turn, and there she is. A tornado of emotion rushes through me, and I feel swept up in Ava Grace.
She looks like a Valentine’s Day card, pale pink lips and a soft pink dress, hitting her above her knees. The neckline is shaped in a heart, her hair lighter than when I saw it last, and pink highlights frame her face. Ava Grace isn’t trying to be sexy—she just looks like love.
True love.
Now I just need to convince her to be my Valentine.
To be mine, forever.
As I step toward her, an employee runs in the bar, shouting, “Fire,” he yells. “There’s a fire!”
Ava Grace’s eyes meet mine, and then it starts raining from the ceiling.
The sprinklers are triggered, chaos unleashed.
I reach for Ava’s hands; she lets me take them.
With hands held tight we run from the burning building.