Eight
“You look gorgeous.” Impatient for a last minute alone with her, JT linked his fingers with Violet’s and tugged her toward the stairs. They had fifteen minutes until their guests were due to arrive.
“Is it silly that I’m nervous?” With her free hand, she smoothed her skirt and tugged at her neckline.
“Yes.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Everyone here tonight will be a friend. And I’ll be at your side the entire evening.”
To his gratification, she looked reassured. “And you’re sure I look okay?”
“You’re perfect.” He wasn’t accustomed to her lack of confidence and wondered how someone as beautiful and charming as Violet could doubt herself.
“Because the dress is three years old.”
“It looks brand-new.”
“That’s because it is. I’ve never worn it.”
The subtleties of a woman’s mind when it came to fashion were lost on JT. “Let’s go have a glass of champagne. I want to make a toast.”
He led her outside to the pool deck. Because of the number of guests who would be coming, they’d opted to open the living room’s glass walls so people could enjoy the night air. Tiny white lights decorated the palm trees and shrubs, adding a festive air. A bottle of champagne and two flutes awaited them in the outdoor seating area.
JT popped the cork and poured the sparkling liquid. He handed one to Violet and cleared his throat.
“To you. Thank you for marrying me. It’s been a long time since anyone has acted in my best interests instead of their own. Your optimism and knack for thinking outside the box have enabled me to shake loose the cobwebs and let in the sunlight. No matter what happens a month from now, I am ready for whatever the future brings.”
The toast was awkward and sappy, but Violet didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes remained riveted on him as he spoke. Her faith had given him wings. His father could throw every vile trick in the book his way and JT would let it all roll off him. It was impossible to convey the depth of his appreciation for all Violet had given him.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Violet told him, clinking her glass to his. “And I hope I can continue to make good things happen for you.”
“All I need is for you—”
“There’s the couple of the hour,” a man announced from the living room. It was Brent. He’d flown in from Charlotte earlier that day and was staying at Titanium.
Fighting back a sigh at the interruption, JT towed his wife to greet his cousin. After introductions were made, JT caught a subtle nod of approval from Brent and relaxed. His cousin’s opinion mattered. Everyone else could go to hell.
Shortly after Brent’s arrival, the floodgates opened and guests began to pour in. In addition to family and friends, they’d invited many business associates from Las Vegas.
Waitstaff circled with glasses of champagne and fancy hors d’oeuvres. With the help of her catering manager, Violet had organized the party within a week and the entire evening flowed without a hitch. And with each hour that passed, JT found himself a little more enthralled with his wife.
She charmed everyone with her quick laugh and positive outlook. He was glad the evening called for them to navigate the room as a couple, because he couldn’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away.
The floral scent she wore made his head spin with shameless thoughts of what he intended to do with her later. He had a hard time keeping his hands off her bare arms.
“You’ve been monopolizing your wife the whole evening,” Scarlett complained, tugging Violet away. “Harper and I need a couple minutes with her.”
JT continued to move about the room, but what little enjoyment he’d had in the evening had been leached away the second Violet had gone. More than anything he wished everyone would just go home.
After what seemed like hours, but had been no more than fifteen minutes, Violet returned to him.
“I missed you,” he murmured, after welcoming her with a quick kiss.
By the end of the night, he accepted that he was the luckiest man in the world. As they stood in the doorway and bid the last of their guests goodbye, JT became aware of a raging need to have her all to himself. The instant she closed the front door and let out an enormous sigh of relief, he lifted her onto his shoulder and headed upstairs.
At first she was too startled to protest, but she’d rediscovered her voice by the time he reached the second floor.
“Have you lost your mind? There are still things to clean up and I need to thank the caterer. Put me down.”