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But she doesn't have to. I sit on her sofa and eat a Fat Cake, only because it gives me something to do with my hands and mouth.I shrug, "It's fine. No, it's great. We haven't had much time to hang this week anyways. And you're telling me now."And she smiles and touches my knee, so I know everything's okay. But then she talks about him – no, gushes – about him and I start to feel sick because I can hear how far she's gone with him in her voice. And maybe I'm exaggerating about that, but I can see them together in my head and it's making me angry again. But I plaster a smile on my face and make all the right sounds.Because she's Carly, and she deserves happiness. And I'm Sam Puckett, and I don't deserve her. And I push everything into a hard little ball that sits in my gut like a ball bearing and I be her friend. Finally she shuts up about him, and I can start breathing again and let my lips relax. She starts playing with my hair and I worry. She's been quiet too long now, and Carly. She rarely made any reference to the gang rape she had suffered years before in Cote d’Ivoire. That she was sharing even the most minuscule detail was another sign of her growing trust in him. He treasured that as well.He carried her back to the bed and cuddled her close. He’d contact Michael in the morning and get the ball rolling on the prenup. Grace was right; people would judge them both if he didn’t. But he’d make damn sure Grace was taken care of, even if, by some bizarre circumstance, they should part. He owed her that much in his mind.Before falling asleep, Grace mumbled something about a dress shop. Mac kissed her temple and said, “Tomorrow, my love.” Chapter Sixty-FourThe following morning, Grace looked online to see how to arrange a wedding in Denmark, and then she searched for dress shops in Stockholm. She found one called Lilly that had some beautiful styles in stock. She could always find a tailor in Copenhagen if she found a dress that didn’t fit perfectly.She closed.
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