Emmett listened with half an ear as Lyle discussed the upcoming ceremony, but his attention was on Stefanie. She was wringing her fingers like she was the one with a case of the nerves. He could understand why. She’d probably been planning her future wedding day since she was a young girl, and he hazarded the very safe guess that it didn’t involve marrying a man like him. She’d been stoic about their nuptials so far. This was the first time he’d seen her jittery.
A cocky part of him wanted to believe that it wasn’t their wedding that had knocked her off-kilter, but the kiss. It sure as hell had short-circuited his brain.
Sliding a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear, she stole a quick look at him, her lashes dipping almost demurely. They’d share another kiss like that soon enough, this time in front of an audience since Margaret had arranged for a few of the B and B guests to be in attendance for the ceremony.
“I also made a cake.” Margaret waved when Stefanie protested that she didn’t have to do that, and argued, “It was my pleasure. Now, you two go upstairs and change. When you hear the music, you come on in and we’ll start... Unless you had a more formal entrance in mind?”
“No...” Stefanie’s eyes flashed to Emmett’s like she was checking in with him. He agreed with a subtle head shake. “We want to keep it simple.”
At the stairs, she gripped the banister, and he took her other hand, gently weaving his fingers with hers as they ascended the staircase. He only let her go to unlock their room and usher her in.
“Do you want to change in here or the bathroom?” she asked, taking the bagged dress from the closet and tossing it onto the bed. “Or should we adhere to the notion that it’s bad luck if you see me in the dress before the wedding?”
She wasn’t asking for reassurance. The expression on her face was sheer determination. No longer jittery, she was a woman on a mission.
“I think the concept of bad luck is bullshit.”
“Doesn’t buy into the concepts of Christmas miracles or true love or bad luck. Got it.”
“I didn’t say anything about love.” He might be incomplete, his heart less than whole, but he’d seen plenty of evidence that true love exists. Chase and Miriam. Zach and Penelope. Even Stef’s parents, Rider and Elle. Just because it wasn’t in the cards for Emmett didn’t mean it wasn’t real. “But you’re right on the other two.”
She unzipped the garment bag, revealing a sheath of white. He fought the urge to turn his back. To give her privacy or to keep himself in suspense, he wasn’t sure which.
“I find it hard to believe you’d agree to marry me out of obligation if you thought your Mrs. Right was out there.”
“I agreed to marry you because you made a good case for me to do so. Also, it’s terrifying to think of some poor woman tied to me for life.”
“That’s an awful thing to say to your fiancée!” Her tone was teasing, and so was the feisty twinkle in her eyes.
“My fiancée was smart enough to include an escape hatch. You’ll be done with me in a few months’ time.”
Which was best for all parties involved. He could give her what she needed in this moment—a husband—but couldn’t give her the forever kind of love she deserved.
He tipped her chin, tempted to kiss her again to feel her lips soften beneath his. He liked the way she’d melted against him earlier; liked the heated way she looked at him now.
“I’ll change first and meet you downstairs. Do you need help with the dress?”
“I’ve got it.”
“Is it bad luck to kiss my bride before the wedding if she’s not in her wedding dress?”
“I don’t think so.” She gripped his coat with both hands and tugged him closer. “Kisses are usually good luck.”
“Good luck,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers, “I believe in.”