Chapter 52

Kayla

The ride home was quiet, save for the sound of the bags rustling between my feet and the hum of the car’s engine. I kept staring down at the two dresses Nicholas had purchased for me, my head swirling with conflicting emotions every time I saw the champagne and crimson fabrics.

I knew it was all just for show. I wasn’t stupid.

But I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it weren’t.

Nicholas, as usual, seemed entirely unbothered, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped casually over the center console. He seemed to be lost deep in thought, a muscle faintly ticking in his jaw as he stared at the road ahead.

I glanced at him, then back at the bags, my thumb brushing over the edge of the silky fabric of the champagne dress.

The dresses were beautiful, and his gesture had been unexpectedly thoughtful. He didn’t have to take me dress shopping—he could have just ordered a plain white dress to fill the role for our fake wedding day—but he had anyway. And he hadn’t just bought me one dress, but two.

A princess’s dream.

Clearing my throat, I broke the silence. “Thank you for the dresses.” I paused, then added a bit more quietly, “And… I never got to thank you for staying with me while I was sick. So… thank you.”

Nicholas glanced over at me. “Don’t mention it. But if you really want to thank me, you can make it up to me by coming to the country club with me tomorrow.”

I blinked. “The country club?”

“We need to make more public appearances as a couple,” he said simply, his words as casual as if he were suggesting nothing more than a grocery store run. “I haven’t been there in a while, and it’s as good a place as any to remind people that we’re hopelessly in love.”

I nodded, but there was something about the way he said it—a faint edge in his voice that hinted to another ulterior motive. I wanted to ask but ultimately decided against it. Knowing Nicholas, I would just get a cryptic answer at best, and at worst, a teasing remark that would leave me more confused than when I started.

Instead, I brushed my fingers over the fabric of the dress bag again, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh before I could stop myself. The sound was embarrassingly wistful, and I immediately stiffened, hoping Nicholas hadn’t noticed.

No such luck. The bastard noticed everything.

“Everything alright over there?” he asked. His eyes flicked over to me briefly. “If you don’t like the dresses, we can go back and get something else. Just say the word.”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “The dresses are perfect. I just…” I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. But he looked at me again, and something about his concerned gaze made me want to explain myself.

“I’ve always loved wedding planning,” I admitted softly, my cheeks flushing deeply. “When I was a teenager, I even had a scrapbook full of ideas for my dream wedding.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Really? You don’t strike me as the scrapbooking type.”

I rolled my eyes even though my cheeks were burning like coals. “It’s not like I do it anymore. But back then, I had everything planned out. The colors, the flowers, even the dress. It was stupid, I know.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t sound stupid. It sounds… cute.”

Cute.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my mouth at that word, but it faded as quickly as it came when he added, “But don’t dig out your inspiration board for this wedding. It’s not that kind of event. You should save it for the real wedding you might have someday.”

The words hit me like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head. I stared at the road as the reality of his statement sank in. Of course I knew this wasn’t a real wedding. I knew it was all for show, a charade to keep up appearances.

But hearing him say it so bluntly, after everything, felt like a slap to the face.

“Right,” I said, forcing a tight smile. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Nicholas didn’t respond, his focus shifting back to the road. But the damage had already been done. The dresses between my feet suddenly felt different, their beauty tainted by the reminder that this wasn’t my dream wedding. It never would be.

Maybe I would never get my fairytale wedding. Not in this lifetime, at least.

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the pleats of my cream-colored tennis skirt. It was paired with a matching sweater vest and a fitted polo underneath. My white sneakers and ankle socks completed the look, and I had to admit, I felt… pretty, even though I’d never picked up a tennis racquet in my damn life.

Nicholas’s sharp whistle broke my train of thought. I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes trailing over me with that lazy yet unabashed appreciation that made my skin tingle.

“You look good. Almost makes me regret taking you to a tennis court and not somewhere more… private,” he said.

I rolled my eyes despite the faint blush now coloring my cheeks. He didn’t look half bad himself, if I was being honest. His outfit consisted of a tailored cream sweater, a crisp white polo, and dark trousers that clung just enough to hint at the toned muscles beneath.

The man looked like he had just stepped out of a menswear catalog, and it was impossible not to notice.

But I managed to bite out, “Save your ogling for the other women at the court.”

“And what kind of a husband would I be if I leered at other women with my Luna by my side?” he shot back without missing a beat. His gaze lingered on my legs for a moment longer than necessary, making my body react in a way that I loathed to admit even to myself, before he finally turned and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go. We’re already late.”

I huffed and followed him, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

Husband, indeed.

When we arrived at the country club, the polished wooden floors and white walls of the indoor tennis court greeted us. The faint sound of tennis balls bouncing echoed in the air, mingling with the low murmur of conversation from other club members.

As we walked through, Nicholas carrying the bag containing our equipment, I noticed the subtle glances from wolves in the room. Their eyes followed us, flicking between us like we were on display.

And I supposed we sort of were. Our relationship was, after all, the talk of the town. And a public appearance only served to increase the chatter.

Just to drive the point home, I stepped forward and held onto Nicholas’s forearm as we walked, trying not to think about the feeling of his sinewy muscles beneath my fingers. I plastered a happy little smile on my face, playing my part perfectly.

That was, until we reached the court and I saw that a familiar figure was already waiting for us.

Noah stood near the net, his arms crossed over his chest. He pushed away from where he was leaning when he saw Nicholas and grinned. But when his gaze shifted and landed on me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his mouth twisted into a faint frown.

“Nicholas,” he said, “you didn’t tell me she was coming.”