about?” Her dad’s smile hadn’t faded since dinner.
“It’s her dress!” Marta was the first to Laura’s side. “Come on! Hurry!”
“Oh … right. The fitting.” He ambled over, but halfway across the kitchen he stopped. “Actually, I think I’ll wait till the wedding day. Something else to look forward to.”
Laura pictured her dad seeing her dressed as a bride for the first time here, in the house she grew up in. He was right. The surprise could wait. “Good idea.” She showed the photos to Marta.
The housekeeper drew a long, exaggerated breath. “Laura! It’s perfect.” She looked at each picture and then impulsively hugged Laura. “Sweet girl … no bride has ever looked prettier.”
They heard voices on the other side of the garage door, and quickly Laura slipped the camera back into her mother’s purse. Brad entered the kitchen first, a tux catalogue in his arms. He gave Laura a bewildered smile. “They all look the same.”
Her mom was a few feet behind Brad, and her eyes danced at the way they’d tricked him out of the kitchen. She cleared her voice. “I told him you’d help.”
Laura smothered a giggle and then turned a semi-serious expression toward Brad. “How about after our walk?”
“Definitely.” The confusion in his eyes eased. They worked with Marta to clear the table and load the dishwasher, and then they walked down the long winding driveway and onto the path toward the west end of the golf course. It was a walk they’d taken more times than Laura could remember, and with the sun setting she could hardly wait for some alone time with Brad.
They were halfway down the drive when he smiled at her. “The fitting went well?”
“It’s amazing.” She smiled. “I wish you could see it.”
“You’d make any dress beautiful.”
“You showed Marta pictures, right?” His eyes danced as they walked, their pace easy. “The whole get-Brad-in-the-garage ploy.”
“Brad!” She uttered a single shocked laugh. “What … were you standing at the door listening?”
He stopped and moved closer to her, brushing his lips against hers, a kiss defined by the restraint Brad had shown since they started dating. But one that took her breath all the same. “You aren’t good at keeping secrets.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “Not from me, anyway.”
“You can’t see it.” She hugged him close. “But it’s perfect.”
“Like you.”
She smiled and stopped herself from saying more. After a long pause she linked her hand with his. “What about your day? Dad mentioned a new ad campaign.”
“Yes.” A sudden tiredness sounded in Brad’s voice. “Kotton Kids. I’m sort of stuck on this one. Surrounded by baby pictures all day, and still nothing.”
They turned right and headed up a slight hill. “Baby clothes? Is that the campaign?”
“Not any old baby clothes. High-end, organic, produced in an entirely green facility, softest cotton ever. That kind of baby clothes.” Brad slid his free hand through his blond hair and sighed. “But nothing came to me.” He gave her a weary smile. “Just one of those days.”
“It’s weird … how we’ll be talking about baby clothes in a few years.”
She expected Brad to jump in with a statement about how he couldn’t wait, or how wonderful being a father was going to be. Instead he stayed quiet. After a minute or so, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Know what kept coming to me today? When I was supposed to be writing a campaign slogan?”
“What?” They kept walking. The path headed downhill here and leveled off a few blocks ahead.
“How we met.” He ran his thumb along the top of her hand, something he did when he was feeling sentimental. “How I knew in the first hour that there’d never be anyone as right for me.”
“Mmmm.” She pictured them drifting off by themselves at her father’s employee barbecue four years ago. “You told me you were earning your MBA at night. Remember?” She
“It’s her dress!” Marta was the first to Laura’s side. “Come on! Hurry!”
“Oh … right. The fitting.” He ambled over, but halfway across the kitchen he stopped. “Actually, I think I’ll wait till the wedding day. Something else to look forward to.”
Laura pictured her dad seeing her dressed as a bride for the first time here, in the house she grew up in. He was right. The surprise could wait. “Good idea.” She showed the photos to Marta.
The housekeeper drew a long, exaggerated breath. “Laura! It’s perfect.” She looked at each picture and then impulsively hugged Laura. “Sweet girl … no bride has ever looked prettier.”
They heard voices on the other side of the garage door, and quickly Laura slipped the camera back into her mother’s purse. Brad entered the kitchen first, a tux catalogue in his arms. He gave Laura a bewildered smile. “They all look the same.”
Her mom was a few feet behind Brad, and her eyes danced at the way they’d tricked him out of the kitchen. She cleared her voice. “I told him you’d help.”
Laura smothered a giggle and then turned a semi-serious expression toward Brad. “How about after our walk?”
“Definitely.” The confusion in his eyes eased. They worked with Marta to clear the table and load the dishwasher, and then they walked down the long winding driveway and onto the path toward the west end of the golf course. It was a walk they’d taken more times than Laura could remember, and with the sun setting she could hardly wait for some alone time with Brad.
They were halfway down the drive when he smiled at her. “The fitting went well?”
“It’s amazing.” She smiled. “I wish you could see it.”
“You’d make any dress beautiful.”
“You showed Marta pictures, right?” His eyes danced as they walked, their pace easy. “The whole get-Brad-in-the-garage ploy.”
“Brad!” She uttered a single shocked laugh. “What … were you standing at the door listening?”
He stopped and moved closer to her, brushing his lips against hers, a kiss defined by the restraint Brad had shown since they started dating. But one that took her breath all the same. “You aren’t good at keeping secrets.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “Not from me, anyway.”
“You can’t see it.” She hugged him close. “But it’s perfect.”
“Like you.”
She smiled and stopped herself from saying more. After a long pause she linked her hand with his. “What about your day? Dad mentioned a new ad campaign.”
“Yes.” A sudden tiredness sounded in Brad’s voice. “Kotton Kids. I’m sort of stuck on this one. Surrounded by baby pictures all day, and still nothing.”
They turned right and headed up a slight hill. “Baby clothes? Is that the campaign?”
“Not any old baby clothes. High-end, organic, produced in an entirely green facility, softest cotton ever. That kind of baby clothes.” Brad slid his free hand through his blond hair and sighed. “But nothing came to me.” He gave her a weary smile. “Just one of those days.”
“It’s weird … how we’ll be talking about baby clothes in a few years.”
She expected Brad to jump in with a statement about how he couldn’t wait, or how wonderful being a father was going to be. Instead he stayed quiet. After a minute or so, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Know what kept coming to me today? When I was supposed to be writing a campaign slogan?”
“What?” They kept walking. The path headed downhill here and leveled off a few blocks ahead.
“How we met.” He ran his thumb along the top of her hand, something he did when he was feeling sentimental. “How I knew in the first hour that there’d never be anyone as right for me.”
“Mmmm.” She pictured them drifting off by themselves at her father’s employee barbecue four years ago. “You told me you were earning your MBA at night. Remember?” She
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