Promised (The Promised Series)

tell they’re hitting it off, but I never had a doubt they wouldn’t. Wyn’s hard not to like and Mom has a soft spot a mile long. Though she thinks she can hide it, she never does. I don’t have any doubt she’ll agree to let Wyn move in after graduation. The only thing I don’t know for sure is, if that’s the choice Wyn will make.
    Wyn stays for another hour talking and then I walk her out to her car. Mom invited her to stay for dinner, but because of her arrangement with Shay, she has to decline. I watch the SUV she’s driving until I can no longer see it. Then I go back in to Mom, who’s made her way into the kitchen to start cooking.
    “So?” I ask, leaning against the island and watching her pull out the ingredients for spaghetti.
    “I’ll talk to your dad. If he agrees, we’ll offer her a place to stay if she needs it.” She tells me while filling the pot with water at the kitchen sink.
    My head drops and I let out a sigh. “Thank you.”
    She turns off the water and looks over her shoulder at me. “Son, you need to keep in mind that she might not choose to leave that life. She loves you, but she loves her family too. That’s a hard decision for someone so young to make. I don’t want you to get hurt if this doesn’t go your way.”
    I wish I could smile and convince her I’ll be fine, but I know I can’t pull it off so I don’t even try. I look up and she turns so we’re face to face. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop that from happening if her decision goes that way.” I tell her.
    She nods her head in understanding. “Then I’ll be here to help you get through it.”
    “Love you, Mom.” I whisper, because God knows, I do, and I hope she realizes just how much.
    “More than the moon and the stars.” She replies back on a smile, repeating the words she’s added on to “I love you” since I was a baby.

Chapter 20 – Wyn
    ~The Show Stopper~
    My head is pounding. I want nothing more than to run from this room and never return. But like always, what I want doesn’t factor in. So, I continue to smile and pray this goes fast. I’m sitting in the waiting area of Mrs. Dallas’ Custom Designs with my mom, Dani, Marley (Aidan’s wife), Cara (Aldon’s wife), Ali (Alec’s wife), and Jenna (Aaron’s wife).
    The walls are a bright orange and there are touches of zebra print throughout the room. Racks of dresses as vibrant as the orange, line two of the walls and most of the floor space. The third wall has fitting rooms, a reception area, and the door that leads to the back where the dresses are created and private fitting rooms for special clients are located. The fourth, of course, is the entrance, the display windows of the shop, and a small sitting area.
    Thee Mrs. Dallas walks out of the back wearing pointed-toe black heels, hot pink slacks, and a zebra print blouse (if you can’t tell, she loves zebra print). A bunch of black and pink necklaces cover her neck and her midnight black hair is fashioned into a high pony tail on the top of her head. She catches sight of us and calls. “Come on you gorgeous Scott women. I’ve been waiting forever to show you what I’ve come up with.”
    She doesn’t wait to see if we’re following before she turns on her heels and struts (seriously, it’s a strut, like what you’d see a model do down a runway) back towards the private rooms. We follow of course, me bringing up the rear of our little group because I am not looking forward to seeing the contraption they’ve come up with for me.
    We walk into a room about half as big as the front of the shop. The same interior design as out front has flowed back here, but instead of orange, it’s an electric blue. There are several fitting rooms lining the back wall and I can see garment bags hanging in each stall. Across from the stalls are plush Victorian couches, chairs all done in zebra print, and a black oval coffee table topped with refreshments. There are mirrors covering the far side wall.
    I take a seat in one of the chairs after picking up a bottle of water off the coffee table. Removing the lid, I bring it to my lips for a sip.
    “Do you want to see yours or the girls' first?” Mrs. Dallas asks me from her position by the fitting rooms.
    “I think I want to see the girls in their dresses first.” I say, bringing the bottle away from my mouth and replacing the lid. I want to put off my torture as long as possible.
    “Save the best for last, good decision.” She