The rustle of taffeta sliding over my head muffles Trish’s comment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, that one is my favorite.”

I smooth down the silk over my stomach. Although I shouldn’t be so vain, it’s impossible to stop staring at myself in the mirror. I’ve never worn anything so elegant and sophisticated before. Foster home girls don't get to attend dances or parties. With my first time ever feeling like a princess, I give a little spin, smiling from the tiny sequins sparkling under the fluorescent lights. Totally dorky, I know, but I just can't help myself. "Do you think Drake will like it?"

She steps closer, both of us smiling back at ourselves. Gently bundling my wild hair with her long fingers, she twists the thick mass into a bun on the back of my head. A few strands escaping to tendril around my face. Her eyes roam to the dip between my breasts. The wrap around sleeves. A naughty slit in the champagne fabric rising all the way to my left thigh. The mermaid swish at the bottom that's totally over the top ridiculous and absolutely breathtaking.

"He'll love it." With her free hand, she swipes the tears trickling down her freckled cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m being silly. You’re just so beautiful. I love seeing you happy.”

Grateful for her heartfelt sentiments, I loathe ruining our opportunity to play dress up. But she's been quiet all afternoon, not even indulging in her favorite bubbly she brought along to celebrate. Her normally exuberant personality strangely subdued, and I can't help but worry. Especially with the incident at Drake's office still fretting in my mind. “Are you sure that's all? You don't seem like yourself.”

My best friend since second grade when our teacher sat us in alphabetical order by first name. Trish and Trinity side-by-side for those nine months, and luckily well beyond. Managing to stay connected despite me roaming from school to school, home to home. The only constant in my transient life, and I know more than anyone else when she's hiding something.

She dips her head. Auburn hair falling forward to obscure her face. Pink dotting her flushed skin. The first time I’ve ever seen her shy. “Please Trish. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Relief floods my tense muscles, and now I’m crying and laughing too. I hug her tight. Wrinkling the gorgeous dress crushed between us. “Congratulations! I’m so excited for you!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your thunder. This is your day, but I can’t seem to quit getting all weepy. Hormones I guess.”

"Don't apologize! There's no one I'd rather celebrate with."

She steps out of my embrace and caresses over a slight curve to her stomach that I hadn’t noticed hidden under her flowy top. "Plus, I'm starting to show. I'm almost nine weeks already."

"You've only been married a month!"

She gives me the ‘you’re kidding’ look that only a best friend can get away with. "Um, you know I hate to break it to you, but some people actually have sex before their wedding night."

Now it's my turn to blush from her good-natured teasing. Although we both know we're far less experienced than other women our age. I suffered alongside her from the devastation of Chad Baxter dumping her the day after their senior prom. She gave him her virginity; he gave her a complex.

Until Noah, she avoided men and focused on excelling in college, while I stayed busy with the shelter. Not much opportunity to meet guys during endless weekends filled with adoption events. Never really seemed like a loss though, since animals are often the only ones who don't disappoint you. “I know, I know. It just seems like everything is moving so fast.”

“Me? What about you?”

Her eyes widen in exaggerated disbelief. Engulfing both of us in infectious giggles. No comparison to the speed of my relationship. “I guess Drake is a bit persistent.”

“Maybe just a little.” The laughter softens along with her smile. Glowing with a wistfulness she always has when rare good fortune comes my way. “Because he loves you. Really. I can tell.”

Now it’s her turn to see through me. Exposing the insecurity I’ve wrapped around myself so long and tight, I feel naked against the truth. Revealing the self-doubt she always tries to unwind from strangling my nervous heart. “You can?”

“Yeah. From the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only person in the room. Like you’re the only person in the whole freaking world.” So much confidence fills her voice. I’m almost hypnotized by her words. “Even Noah mentioned it. And for a man to notice, you know it has got to be totally obvious.”

I love the way her face lights up when she says her husband’s name. That she’s finally found the happiness she deserves too. “I like Noah.”

With a dreamy expression, she slowly nods. “Me too.”

“Well, I would hope so since you’re having his baby.”

Shiny eyes meet mine, and she pulls me against her again. The happiest tears we’ve ever shed together.

* * *

I toss my keys on the table and shove the door shut behind me. Only fifteen minutes to shower and get my tux on. Wasted too much damn time fighting with McAdams. Resisting all his bullshit arguments. Whether he likes it or not, I’m out. These are my last contracts with him. He can find someone else to help him screw over the government. Too many greedy assholes who want in on the action. When all I want is Trinity.

My quick pace halts when she appears at the top of the stairs. As if perched on a pedestal, where she perfectly belongs. More beautiful than a fucking model.

“What do you think?”

A shaking hand brushes over her hip as she glances down. Smoothing invisible wrinkles before meeting my gaze again. With her hesitant voice and nervous demeanor, somehow I get the vibe that she asks about more than just the dress. Questioning everything that’s led us to this moment. If the celebration tonight is as genuine to me as it is to her.

I take the ten steps slowly. Drinking her in. Not missing a single detail of her softly tamed hair. The fancy twist in the back unable to corral a few wayward curls framing her face. Slight smile that could easily falter with the wrong word. Iridescent fabric floating above her gorgeous curves. The hint of smooth thigh where the fabric slits. High heels still not enough to bring us to eye level with each other.

At the top, I slide her delicate fingers in mine and hold our coupled hands to my chest. Unable to trust myself not to do anything else. She has to know, must believe, that I meant every word of my vows. That I’ll never break or bend the commitment I’ve made to her. To us. “I’m humbled that a woman as amazing as you is my wife.”

Her glorious body strains toward me. Leaning closer, seemingly of its own accord, to accept the genuine emotion I hope I convey with my words and my touch. “You take my breath away sunshine. You’re fucking magnificent.”

Timidity flares from my boldness, and her head tilts down. “I spent too much.”

Like I give a damn. “You’re totally worth it.”

“We ‒ I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

Tension stiffens her body, and she attempts to tug her hand out of mine. Panic pulses in her voice. Suddenly flustered but I don’t understand why.

“I’ll pay you back. I promise. Every week when I get paid I’ll give you a little bit until it’s all‒”

What the fucking hell? “Trinity, stop. I don’t give a fuck about the money.”

“I was drinking, and I guess I got a little tipsy from the champagne."

Even with my gut throbbing from her anxiety, my traitorous cock perks up from that divulgence. I knew I should have gone shopping with her. "Then I wish I was there to take advantage of you."

No laugh or smile from my teasing. Worry, instead of humor, still floods her drawn face. “We were gone all afternoon.”

Her gaze flits around the loft. Guilty, like there was some shit she needed to do here. That’s what I pay my housekeeper for. “So what?”

“I just…”

Unwilling to look at me, she stares down at the hardwood. Almost cowering, like a cornered animal, with my hands gripping her taut arms. What the fuck does this gorgeous woman have to be so damn insecure about?

I’m so fucking confused from all of these needless confessions for indiscretions that don’t mean shit. Until the realization hits me. Like a fucking bat to the back of my god damn head. Before we stand in front of my family and our friends, presented as a happy husband and wife, we have to be real. We have to mean it. We have to last.

So she has to make sure I won’t get angry. She won’t be in trouble. She won’t be punished. She won’t get kicked out.

Fuck that shit. I slide my finger under her chin, as gentle as I can with the agony speeding through my veins from her self-torture, and lift her sweet face to mine. “I don’t give a fuck if you spend money or hang out with your friend or get falling down drunk all damn day.”

A stuttered breath blows against my palm. Hopefully, she fucking hears and understands my meaning. “There’s nothing you can ever say or do to make me upset.” I stroke her cheek, holding her in place with a firm grip. “Except leave me.”

“Never.”

More conviction than I’ve ever heard swells through her whisper. One word instantly easing my torment. Just like I want for her troubled mind and wounded heart. Yet, I have to find a way for her to be as confident in my feelings for her that she has for me.

Softening my grasp on her, I tip my head closer. Luxuriating in her soft kiss. That turns more urgent as my hands slide around her waist and I clutch her to me. That I have to fucking stop, or we’ll both be in trouble.

“You’re too beautiful for me to ruin it…right now anyway. But after the party is a different story.”

An authentic smile finally emerges. “I have to admit I have a thing for a guy in a tuxedo. So maybe it’ll be me ruining you…”

Fuck me. I need her so fucking bad. “There’s nothing I want more.”

My dick, straining against my boxer briefs so hard I can feel the fucking zipper teeth of my pants, agrees with me. Only a few more hours that I have to share her, and then she’ll be all mine again.