Our Love Unhinged (Reluctant Hearts Book 4) by Brighton Walsh Read Free Book Online Page A

cuticle. What seems like a thousand minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.
    “It’s me.” Once the door is unlocked, Tessa pokes her head in, dresses still out of view. “Close your eyes and assume the position.”
    I roll said eyes first, but then comply, arms raised straight in the air while I wait. The door latches behind her, there’s some rustling, and then cool, smooth material slides over my skin. It feels nice, but then again, most of the ones I’ve tried—except for the ball gown that weighed at least thirty-five pounds—felt nice.
    “Turn around,” Tessa says, spinning me by the hips until my back is to her. “And keep your eyes closed!” Then she’s hard at work fiddling with something at my lower back, and it takes everything in me not to open my eyes and sneak a glance, especially when she spends nearly ten minutes working on the back of the gown.
    “What the hell are you doing back there?”
    “Buttons.”
    “Like . . . real ones?” All the dresses I’ve tried thus far that had buttons down the back had zipper closures.
    “Yes, real ones.”
    I think about my fiancé trying to get me out of this dress on our wedding night, his large fingers fumbling with what are no doubt minuscule buttons. “Cade’s going to hate it.”
    She laughs as she runs her hands down my sides to smooth the dress and then turns me to face her again. “No, he’s not.” Her voice sounds suspiciously tight, like she’s trying to swallow back tears, but that can’t be right. She’s been as stone-faced as me this entire time.
    “Can I open?”
    “Yes, but don’t look down. Eyes on me, got it?”
    “Sir, yes, sir,” I say and open my eyes. And I was right. Hers are glassy, and we’d already agreed there’d be no crying at this party. I jab a finger at her. “I thought I told you no crying.”
    “I’m not crying. I have an eyelash.”
    “In both eyes,” I say flatly.
    She ignores me and unlatches the door to the fitting room, holding it open for me to exit into the main area where they have a pedestal to stand on and a floor-to-ceiling three-way mirror.
    “Don’t you dare look down before you get to the mirror,” Tessa says. “Eyes straight ahead.”
    “If I trip and rip this dress, you’re buying it.”
    When I get to the pedestal, I reach down without looking and gather up the . . . silk? Satin? And step onto the raised platform, letting the dress drop and lowering my eyes to the mirror in front of me. It takes me a minute to take everything in, from the slim straps to the unobtrusive lace embellishment peeking out of the low, draped neckline to the nearly straight silhouette, flaring just slightly at the bottom where the material pools at my feet. Janet and Tessa stand off to the side, both of them sniffling, but I don’t pay attention to them as I twist around and look at the back of the dress. It plunges to just above the small of my back, satin buttons starting there and trailing all the way to the hem.
    It’s . . .
    It’s . . .
    It’s everything I never knew I wanted . Simple, classic, elegant, and sexy with just a touch of femininity.
    In a wobbly voice, Tessa says, “She’ll take it,” and I can’t even give her shit for buying my wedding dress when I’ve yet to say a word. I’m too busy picturing what Cade’s face is going to look like when I walk toward him wearing this.
    And that’s when the dormant butterflies come to life.

August 6

    winter
    I t’s fourteen days before our wedding, and I never thought I’d be this calm. It was like a switch flipped that day in the bridal salon after finding The Dress—something I’d assumed would never happen. I figured I’d be walking down the aisle in whatever white dress I could find that fit remotely well. Instead, I’ll be walking toward Cade in something that makes me feel . . . amazing.
    I never thought a dress could have that much of an impact on my emotions, but here we are.
    It’s the day of our bachelor and