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When I was better, his gentle hands framed my shoulders, his eyes searching my face. “What’s wrong?”
“One second,” I said, raising a finger, worried I might barf up all my food. Nope, false alarm. But then a blush crept up my cheeks at how overly dramatic I’d just been. I was starting to feel silly, yelling his name down the street like he was in danger or something.
He pulled me closer. “What’s the matter?” he asked again. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”
I went up on my tiptoes and kissed his lips to calm him. “No . . . I just . . .” I stuttered, feeling my blush deepen. And then I lifted the white bag. “I got your cakes,” I said sheepishly.
He blinked at the bag, confused, then his gaze returned to me. “Baby, are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said. I reached into the bag and offered him one. The normally round pastry was flattened from my run.
“Kendy . . .” He still looked worried.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please don’t be mad. I just wanted to give you a cake.”
His face softened and he shook his head then he reached for the bag, taking the cake from me. “Thanks, Princess. But I really have to get back to work.”
My eyes raked in his handsome face, the sun beating down on him, which only made the blue in his eyes more evident. Such emotion flooded me as I realized where we had started and where we were now.
All that time before, I had been living my life, following the prediction, almost forcing it to come true. And just when I had stopped allowing those predictions to control my life, they came true anyway. It was fu
“I’ll walk you to the train,” I said, feeling a fluttering in my stomach and a lightness in my heart. The prediction had come true after all, and with the right man—my man, my chosen man.
He nodded and placed the cake back in the white paper bag, careful not to get his hands dirty. Smiling, he locked our fingers together and led us down the block.
“Do you know what they call those cake things?” I asked casually, watching his reaction.
He frowned. “Chinese cake with light reddish filling?”
I dropped my gaze and smiled to myself.
He didn’t know. And because he didn’t know, it just increased my love for my man, if that was even remotely possible. But a small part of me wondered if he had bought me the cakes to prove a point.
Should I tell him? Not tell him?
I peered up at him through my lashes and decided it didn’t matter. He didn’t believe in horoscopes or psychics. That was my thing, and it wouldn’t change anything anyway. I wasn’t letting predictions rule my life. I made my own choices now. To hell with the predictions! He was sure of us without ‘all that hocus pocus,’ as he would call it.
At the entrance to the subway, I went up on my tiptoes and placed a light kiss on his mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I said as I pecked him sweetly, feeling his smile against my lips.
When he reached to give me my moon cake, I took a bite, but then placed it back in the bag for him to take to work. Because in a way, my way I guess, I wanted to give him the moon right back.
At his questioning glance, I smiled slyly. “I’m watching my calories.”
He rolled his eyes then snaked an arm around my waist and bent me backward to really kiss me. “I’ll see you tonight, Princess.”
“See you tonight,” I said seductively.
Then I watched his sexy self take the stairs to the subway, and I sighed. Though I was ru
The man had given me the moon.
In the form of food.
And it couldn’t have been more perfect.
The End
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Marry Me for Money
Prologue
The woman was beautiful. She looked like a supermodel ready to walk the runway. The blackest of black eyelashes swept upward, accenting the depths of her emerald eyes. Curls of mahogany sat on top of her head while the apple of her cheeks were highlighted with a slight pink as if the sun had kissed her.
I should have been excited. I should have been anxious.
But as my heartbeat thrashed in my ears, all I felt was dread.
I sat on the stool, staring at the girl in the mirror. I wondered who this girl was. I wondered where the old girl had gone and how I could get her back. The problem was I couldn’t. The lie was so deep, the charade so long that there was nowhere else to go, but to move forward.
It was an out-of-body experience as the chaos of the circus around me was happening. I hardly noticed the woman in front of me as she swished her little brush of pink gloss on my pouty lips.
Everybody was getting ready for the big day.
My big day.
Four photographers were scattered around the room, catching every moment and every detail from the shoes to the invitation to the flowers.
Orchids.
Orchids didn’t give off a scent like every other flower. Too much water would drown them. Not enough sunlight would kill them. They were useless and high maintenance.
So, when the florist had asked me what kind of flowers I would like for my bouquet, I’d said, “Orchids.”
It was the flower I despised the most. It wasn’t because of its lack of beauty or its uselessness, but I didn’t want anything that I would pick for my real day.
The photographers moved to the king-sized bed, and they snapped pictures of the regal designer wedding gown. This was another thing I never would have picked for myself. I remembered my last fitting. I had barely squeezed into the strapless couture dress. I would never choose a dress that I couldn’t walk, dance, or eat in. I hated it, and that was the reason I’d picked it.
My stomach growled from starvation. I had no appetite the night before, and today Kendy, my maid of honor, wouldn’t allow me to eat. It was so unlike her. I guessed it was for my benefit because I could barely fit into my dress. Either way, my stomach was eating itself because it had nothing else to feed off of.
The time went by slowly as if it were dragging on purpose to punish me for living the biggest lie of my life. Everyone always said their wedding day had flown by. This day was killing me, killing me softly and slowly.
All I wanted was for it to be over, but the day had just begun.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. If I can only get through this day . . . this one day . . .
I just needed to get through today.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My book is done done done. This is my third book out and what I've realized is that no matter what I do, which different paths I take or how I change my process, writing a book never gets easier. And after this third book, I realize that maybe it never will. I will still whine to my writing buddies, cry when no one is looking and edit my manuscript over and over until I can't see straight anymore.