𝗔 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗞𝗬 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗟𝗘

01 | the bridal shower

"What's the occasion, Heiress?"

Jameson's warm, calloused hands skated over my waist, over the bodice of my dress. It was a dark shade of blue, encrusted with rubies that offset the color.

"Libby's bridal shower." I turned away from the mirror that encompassed practically the entire wall.

I was still adjusting to my new bedroom. Our bedroom.

After celebrating our first year of dating, Jameson and I had decided to move into a new one altogether. It was big enough to be considered a living room, with its arched ceilings and furniture breaking up the space. We even had a balcony overlooking the acres and acres of backyard, complete with a jacuzzi.

"Where, might I ask," Jameson murmured, "is this shower taking place?"

"Downstairs," I said, twining my arms around his neck.

Although I knew that Jameson had just woken up, his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt were dead giveaways.

"Why was I unaware of this?"

"Because you aren't invited," I said, laughing a little.

Jameson's brows arched. "I'm offended."

"No need to be," I said. "Your brothers weren't invited either."

"Not even Nash?"

I laughed. "Especially not Nash."

Jameson smirked. "Women are so secretive."

"And men are so stupid."

Instead of taking offense, Jameson grinned. Grabbing his keys from a couch tucked into the corner of our room, he said, "Precisely why I'm going to the bar."

"Don't get too drunk."

"No promises."

I followed Jameson into the hallway, intending to walk him to the door. The second he noticed me tailing him, he grabbed my hand.

"You'd better not trip on those heels while I'm gone," he murmured, watching me struggle to keep up with him.

"No promises."

Flashing me his devastating smile, Jameson helped me down the last several stairs. I held his hand until I couldn't any longer.

Giving me a hard kiss, Jameson pulled away.

Before he could walk out the double doors, however, they flung inward to reveal Libby, along with a couple other girls trailing her on the walkway.

Jameson offered her a crooked smile. "There's the woman of the hour."

"The day, actually."

"The week," I corrected them both, reminding both my boyfriend and my sister that despite a bridal shower only lasting an hour, Libby was getting married in six days.

Libby grinned. She'd paired her metal choker with a coal-black dress. The sleeves reached her wrists but the hem only reached mid-thigh.

I hugged her while Libby's few friends wandered inside Hawthorne House. My sister had insisted that she didn't want a large party, and honestly, I was grateful.

I'd become accustomed to large gatherings but never comfortable with them.

Jameson kissed me once more and saluted Libby on his way out. I watched him jump into his Porsche — a birthday present from me — and drive off.

I sighed pleasantly.

When the last of Libby's friends had arrived, I shepherded them all into the lobby.

Gifts were exchanged and desserts were passed around the trio of couches surrounding Libby. I could tell she was overwhelmed, even with only ten of us.

But her favorite gift was mine.

I waited until all the girls had gone home to supply her with it. This gift, though priceless, was sure to make us cry.

I'd compiled all of my mother's recipes — particularly the cupcakes — and bound them together into a book.

Although Libby and I hadn't biologically shared a mom, my mother had always filled in as my sister's.

Her eyes welled as she filed through the book. "Ave."

"I figured you could use it," I said, "for your cupcake truck."

The truck that I'd gifted her only months before.

Libby deposited the book on the floor, beside all her other gifts, and joined me on the couch. We held each other and cried.

When the tears dried, Libby stared at her gifts. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I'm obligated to," I said, "as your sister."

A slow, sudden grin spread over her face.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," Libby said. "I'll just be throwing you a party too, whenever Jameson decides to propose."