When we arrive at my front door, he hands me the bag he’s holding. “What’s this?” I ask. I’ve been curious to know since his mother handed it to him.
“Open it and see.”
I peer inside at what appears to be a white jacket. Hesitantly, I pull it out.
“It’s my letterman jacket from high school. I want you to have it.”
“You do? Why?”
“I want you to be my Sandy, Em.”
My eyes widen. “You watched the movie?”
“I plead the fifth,” he says, holding his hand up in front of him.
The smile on my face is so huge, I’m surprised it doesn’t split in two.
“You want to be my Danny?”
“Yes, well, your Ashton, actually. You’re the one that I want, Em,” he says with a wink. “Pun intended.”
We both laugh. He did watch it, and that knowledge warms my heart.
“You’re showing your sweet side again, Mr. Barclay.”
“Only for you,” he says as his lips brush with mine. “You do know she doesn’t wear his jacket in the movie, right?”
“I know. But can I still keep it?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
He rests his forehead against mine. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place tonight. I’ve enjoyed waking up with you in my arms. I’ll miss it.”
“I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“Never. The more I’m with you, the more I want to be with you,” he says.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me… and for my dad.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I always take care of what’s mine.”
That single word sends my heart into a flutter.
Mine.
“I’ll miss you tonight.”
“Same,” he says. “So fucking much.”
“You probably shouldn’t keep your mother waiting.”
“I suppose.” The tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t want to leave. His arms slide around my waist, drawing my body flush with his. “I know you have work tomorrow, but will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? I want to see you.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll cook for you.” I feel his lips curve up as he places them against my mouth. He kisses me deeply. It’s sweet and passionate.
“‘Til tomorrow then.”
“Until tomorrow.” Drawing back, he smiles. “Bye, my Sandy.”
“Bye, my Danny.”
I release a breathy sigh, hugging his jacket to my chest.
Sometimes the heart doesn’t know how to say what it wants, but actions speak louder than words.
Chapter Thirty-Five
EMMA
“I feel like a princess,” I say to Carla when she walks into my bedroom dressed for our evening out.
“You look beautiful, Em. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“So do you.” I’m thrilled she’s coming tonight.
The boys surprised us with new gowns. Mine is red, and Carla’s is emerald green. Considering they had no input from us, they did well. I love what Ashton chose for me. Red holds significance for us because I was wearing the same color the night we first kissed. It made me wonder if that’s why he chose it.
It arrived in a white box that was wrapped with a large bow. Just like my prom dress had been, and again it had me thinking was it a coincidence.
“And check this out,” I say, lifting my dress and bunching it around my hips. “Lace.” I finally ditched the cotton briefs… well, for tonight anyway. Ashton’s not Kyle, he’d never do what he did. I trusted him with my donut panties, and he didn’t let me down. He probably doesn’t realize I’ve noticed, but he sleeps with them under his pillow.
This man and all his idiosyncrasies make me all kinds of swoony.
It felt liberating to walk into a lingerie store and buy the sexiest pair of red lace underwear I could find for my man. As much as Ashton seems to like the cotton variety I wear, I think he’ll love these more.
“Aww,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “My little Em is finally all grown up.”
We both laugh. She knows what I went through in high school, but I don’t think she’s ever connected the dots. If she did, I doubt she’d give me such a hard time about my choice of underwear.
“Wait until he sees the waxing. Guys go crazy over Brazilians.”
“Really? I feel like a plucked chicken.”
As well as the waxing, manicure, and pedicure, Carla and I both had our hair professionally done. My long brown locks have been pulled back into an asymmetrical French twist, with a few strands left loose to frame my face. Carla did my makeup heavy around my eyes with ruby red lips. I can’t wait for Ashton to see me all made up.
I take a final glance in the mirror barely recognizing myself. The last time I felt this beautiful was the night of my prom, but unlike my past, I have renewed hope for tonight.
The Alexander McQueen silk gown is the epitome of glamor and elegance. With a seductive neckline and straps ever-so-delicately falling off the shoulders. The fitted waist clings to my hips before dropping to a gentle fishtail skirt.
Simply stunning.
“The guys should be here any minute.” Carla says. “Gray texted me to say they’d just turned onto West One-fifty-eighth.”
“I need to throw a few things in my purse, and I’m ready to go.”
My fingertips run over the heart locket around my neck, the one Ashton bought me after Duke passed. It may not be as chic as the rest of my attire, but it means the world to me, and I refuse to take it off.
It’s been two weeks since we returned from Utah, not including last weekend when we flew back to see my dad. And things between Ashton and I have been wonderful. We’ve seen each other almost every day. I’ve spent the night at his place a few times, and he’s even stayed at mine.
Locking my front door, Carla and I head downstairs as the stretch limousine pulls up out the front of our building.
“Oh, fancy-schmancy,” Carla says.
Ashton told me Valentina was sending a car for us—I had a feeling it would be this one.
The heavily tinted back window rolls down as the driver exits the vehicle. “Going our way?” Grayson asks, sticking his head out.
Carla slips in first, moving to Grayson’s side, and I thank the driver as I hand him my overnight bag. Ashton asked me to go home with him after the event and spend the night.
Lifting my dress, careful not to step on the hem, I slide in next to Ashton. I haven’t seen him all day, and I’ve missed him. My stomach does a flip-flop as my eyes take him in. He looks so dashing in his tux.
There’s something about the way his eyes light up when he sees me. It makes me happy inside. “You look beautiful, Em,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”
“So do you.”
After pulling me closer, he runs his nose up the side of my neck. “Fuck, you smell good.” He draws back, and the intensity in his eyes sends tingles up my spine. “I bought this for you.” Reaching beside him, he produces a small clear box, holding it out to me.