The lock clicked.
Gretchen sat up, frowning. Who was the asshole—
Hunter’s broad shoulders filled the doorway and he shut the door carefully behind him. His gaze fixed on Gretchen, and her first thought was how incredibly handsome he was in his tuxedo. God, she was a lucky woman to be able to tap that on a regular basis. She loved every inch of him, from the white scars bisecting his brows to the way his mouth firmed into a flat line when he saw something that displeased him, like it was doing right now. He locked the door behind him again and then strode toward her. “Gretchen, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
Oh man, and here she had tissue shoved up her nose. Could this day get any worse? Could she be any less sexy? “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding!”
“Yes, but you’re telling everyone that there won’t be a wedding and your friends are panicking.” He sat down on the chaise next to her and gently plucked one of the tissues from her nose. “Do you need to talk?”
“Oh my god, don’t do that, Hunter! That’s so gross.” She snatched the tissue from him and furtively pulled the other out and then rubbed her nostrils. “This is not a sexy moment.”
“Every moment with you doesn’t have to be a sexy moment,” Hunter said in that grave, deep voice of his. “Just as long as it’s with you.”
Damn. Just like that, her eyes welled up and she began to cry once more. “Stop being so understanding!”
“Gretchen, love,” he pulled her against him, crinkling swaths of white taffeta skirts and all, and brushed the veil and tangled hair out of her face. “What’s happened to my impulsive, silly, happy woman?”
“She’s been replaced by a psycho-hose-beast,” Gretchen sobbed. She curled her fists against his chest and then reared back. “I shouldn’t touch you. I’ll mess up your suit.”
“Fuck the suit.” He patted his shoulder. “I’m yours to cry on.”
And because that was so sweet, she launched into a fresh round of tears, crying into the lapels of his nice pressed tuxedo. “I wanted our wedding to be perfect and it’s such a muh-muh-mess.” She cried harder because saying it out loud just made it that much more true. “The cake is ruined and my croquembouches won’t stay together and my dress won’t fucking fit and it’s a blizzard outside and—”
“And I’m here,” Hunter said gently, stroking her cheek. “And you’re here. And we’re the only ones that matter.”
“I know I’m a trainwreck,” Gretchen sniffed. “I know I don’t think about things before plowing ahead. And I thought with the wedding that I’d get things right for a change. I’d plan for months so nothing would surprise me at the last minute. I dieted. I tried to go with the flow, I really did. And the more I tried, the worse things got.”
“Is that why you’ve been so worried lately? You’re trying to impress me?” He seemed stunned.
“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re awesome, Hunter. You’re rich and powerful and smart and you are so put together. You work really long hours and you’re really good at your job. I can’t seem to keep a damn job and how the hell am I going to do a cookbook when I can’t even bake properly for my own wedding?” Her lower lip quivered and then she pressed her face against his chest again. “My wedding cake collapsed. That’s what I get for trying to give it a pudding center.”
“Pudding center? I thought you went with lemon?”
“Yeah, but lemon was plain and boring and I didn’t want our wedding to be boring.” She was going to start crying again. “I wanted you to be impressed with me, Hunter. Like you could look at me and be proud of who you were marrying and then it wouldn’t feel like a mistake—”
“A mistake?” He pulled back, his fingers searching for her chin to force her to look at him. “Gretchen, where is all this coming from? How could you possibly think this is a mistake?”
“Because I’m a questionably employed woman with nothing to bring to the table and you’re a sexy billionaire? Hello—you can do so much better than me.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He cupped her face—her teary, swollen, runny-nosed face. “I love you, Gretchen. You’re the first person that ever saw me, really saw me. Most everyone else just pretends not to notice the scars or avoids making eye contact. But you? You never let me fade into the shadows—you keep pulling me into the light and you’ve given me a new life and new friends. How can I not love you with every inch of my body? How can I not want to be with you forever? Of course I want to marry you.”
Her lip started to wobble again.
“And don’t cry.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “I love wild, impulsive, silly Gretchen. This anxious, frantic Gretchen who’s trying to cater her own wedding? She’s going to have a nervous breakdown.”
“Going to? I think I’m there.” She managed a watery chuckle and burrowed against him. Him being here already made her feel a million times better. This was why they were perfect for each other—he completed her. He knew her. He understood her, and he could talk her down off of the impulsive ledges that she managed to find herself on. Gretchen sighed, snuggling up against him. “A Christmas wedding. I think I really must be crazy. Oh, and I screwed Christmas, too. I got you a wedding present and no Christmas present. I’m officially the worst wife ever.”