Page 114 of Tempting Miles
“At the country club,” they answer in unison.
I glance down at my white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. “Well, if she’s about to dump that asshole for me, I should probably show up looking like shit.”
Both my sisters laugh as they shove me toward the door, telling me there’s no time to waste.
I barely have enough time to grab my wallet, my phone, and shove my feet into my shoes.
Come hell or high water, I’m putting everything on the line. And if it still isn’t enough, at least I’ll know I tried.
I pull up directions to the country club on my navigation system.
Penélope Marie Levine, here I come.
Chapter 28
Penny
Cutting contact with Miles has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
I secretly loved getting his random texts with silly memes, and whenever he was in the mood to flirt, I loved how smooth he could be. I rarely replied, and when I did, it was usually short and to the point—I’ve neverbeen glued to my phone—but between his silliness, the overuse of emojis, and his flirting, his messages somehow always made my day.
And then there were the moments at the ice rink. Catching his smile from across the room and knowing it was just for me made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
The flowers he’d leave on my desk for no reason. My endless supply of perfectly made coffee.
Although, to be honest, what I miss the most—besides the amazing sex—is the way his place felt like home.
Back when I was driving between Azalea Creek and Charlotte every day, I’d come home exhausted, desperate for a hot shower and whatever leftovers I could throw in the microwave. But once I started spending nights at Miles’s place, I’d walk through the door to a glass of wine and a freshly cooked meal waiting for me.
Afterward, we’d spend hours talking in front of the fire or soaking in the hot tub, staring at the stars until my fingers wrinkled like prunes.
I don’t know how he had the energy to come home and cook after spending all day doing physical labor.
But he did it. And not once did he complain.
Day by day, little by little, Miles became my favorite part of every day. Every single thing he did for me went beyond anything anyone has ever done before.
He somehow always made me feel like a Queen when I was with him. And to this day, I don’t know what I did for him.Did I ever make him feel as special as he made me feel? I hope I did, at least once.
Now I’m about to marry a despicable man who only cares about getting richer without lifting a finger.
It’s my wedding day, and my stomach has been in knots since the moment I woke up.
“Good morning, darling,” Helen greets me as she sweeps into the bridal suite with the makeup artist and hairstylist trailing behind her. They immediately start setting up their stations.
“Good morning,” I reply, trying to smile even though it probably looks more painful than convincing.
“Oh darling.” She coos as she sits beside me on the sofa. “Do you have the wedding jitters?”
I spent last night in my apartment, eating my weight in ice cream and watching reruns ofSay Yes to the Dress. Mami and I used to watch it together when I was growing up. Back then, I always imagined we’d fly to New York for the day, find my dream dress with an unlimited budget, have a late lunch overlooking Central Park, then fly home tipsy with happiness.
Instead, I ended up with a dress I never even had a proper fitting for—a dress someone else chose for me.
I’m sure it’s beautiful for the right person.
That person just isn’t me.
The gown has a sweetheart neckline and a princess-cut silhouette. Ivory satin covered in Swarovski crystals thatcatch the light every time I move. The fabric is heavy, and the stones make it even heavier. Layers and layers of tulle puff out beneath the skirt, making it hard to walk without feeling swallowed whole.
