“Whitney, are you still going for those light meals at lunch? You’re already slim enough; you don’t need to worry about squeezing into a wedding dress,” one of her coworkers teased, a playful glint in their eyes.
Whitney forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of her thoughts. “No more dieting. Whatever you guys are eating, count me in.”
“Wow, Whit, after three months of sticking to your diet, you’re finally giving up?” another coworker chimed in, laughter in their voice.
“I just don’t need to wear a wedding dress anymore,” Whitney replied, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and resolution. “Let’s go. If we don’t head down now, we’ll be stuck waiting for the elevator again.”
The group exchanged puzzled looks, confusion swirling among them.
“Wait, what does she mean by not needing a wedding dress? Wasn’t she supposed to be getting married at the end of the month?” they whispered among themselves, their brows knitted in concern.
*****
Carter had spent the entire night deep in conversation with Emily, their words stretching into the early hours of the morning. He finally succumbed to sleep on the couch, just a few steps away from Emily’s bedroom, and to his surprise, he drifted into a deeper slumber than he had in ages.
When he finally stirred, the sunlight streaming through the window told him it was already noon.
A sudden realization jolted him awake: he was supposed to meet Whitney today to get their marriage license.
Expecting a flurry of messages from her demanding answers, he unlocked his phone only to find it devoid of any notifications-just a couple of texts from friends.
Rubbing his temples in frustration, he got up quietly, careful not to wake Emily, who was still asleep. He scribbled a quick note for her and hurried back to his villa, urgency propelling him forward.
Bursting through the door, he was greeted by Linda, his housekeeper. “Mr. Harris, you’re back,” she said, a hint of surprise in her tone.
“Where’s Whitney? Is she still sleeping?” he asked, scanning the room for any sign of her.
Linda hesitated, her expression uncertain. “Mrs. Harris should be on a business trip.”
“Another business trip? We agreed to get our marriage license today,” Carter thought, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
Yet, a flicker of relief washed over him. If he had stood her up again, Whitney would surely make a scene.
He tossed his coat onto the couch and asked casually, “Did she say when she’d be back?”
Linda hesitated again, weighing her words carefully. Should she mention that Mrs. Harris had said she might never return?
“Mr. Harris, she didn’t say. Maybe you should give her a call and ask. She didn’t look too happy when she left,” Linda suggested, her voice cautious.
Carter’s mind drifted back to the previous night’s events.
“I gave her a gift. What could she possibly still be upset about? She didn’t even bother to inform me she was leaving on a business trip. Honestly, if anyone should be annoyed, it’s me,” he thought, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion.
“Alright, I got it,” Carter replied curtly, the irritation still simmering beneath his calm exterior.
Linda watched as he shrugged off the situation, not even bothering to call Whitney, and she sighed to herself.
“Who knows if Mr. Harris and Mrs. Harris will actually get married,” she mused quietly, concern etched on her face.
Meanwhile, Whitney had managed to stop by a consignment store to sell the necklace.
“Miss, this piece is practically brand new. Are you sure you want to part with it? Even if it’s untouched, I can’t give you the full price from the counter,” the store owner said, inspecting the necklace with a critical eye.
Whitney smiled, trying to mask her emotions. “Whatever you think is fair is fine by me.”
The owner studied the necklace, tapping on his calculator before stating, “150,000 dollars. That’s the best I can offer.”
“Sounds good. Here’s my account number,” Whitney replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind.
“Alright. If you bring in more brand-new pieces like this, I’ll make sure to give you an even better price next time,” the owner said with a grin.
“Next time?” Whitney mused, a hint of irony creeping into her thoughts.
Shaking her head, she replied, “No next time.”
The store was tucked away in a narrow alley, so Whitney parked her car outside a nearby restaurant.
But as she approached her red vehicle, her heart sank at the sight of a dent in the door.
A note was slipped under the wiper. *[Sorry, my driver accidentally bumped into your car. You didn’t leave an emergency contact, so please reach out when you see this.]*
The handwriting was surprisingly neat, unmistakably male.
Dialing the number from the note, Whitney felt her heart race. The moment the voice on the other end said “Hello,” a rush of recognition hit her.
“U-Uncle Klein?” she stammered, her eyes widening in disbelief.
There was a brief pause before he responded, “Whitney.”
It seemed as if something clicked for him. “Wait, was that red car yours?”
Whitney managed a helpless smile. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it, Uncle Klein. I’ll just have it fixed when I take my car in for a tune-up.”
“I’m at Tiago Café. See the café right in front of you? Come up to the second floor,” he instructed, his tone gentle.
Whitney let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, Uncle Klein, just enjoy your time. I’ll leave.”
After a moment’s pause, Klein offered, “Hey, want me to come down and get you?”
With a resigned sigh, Whitney replied, “I’ll be right there.”
Whitney stepped into the bustling café, her crisp white shirt neatly tucked into light blue jeans that hugged her figure just right, emphasizing her well-defined waist. On ordinary workdays, she preferred a more relaxed style, but today was different; she was here for a meeting, and she wanted to make a good impression.
As she followed the waiter through the maze of tables, a thought crossed her mind: *Uncle Klein still has such a passion for coffee. He never fails to indulge in it.*
With a gentle push, she opened the door to the private room, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
“Uncle Klein!” she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet space.
It was only then that she realized she was alone with him. Klein, dressed casually in a black shirt with the top buttons undone, looked far more relaxed than the stern, formal version she had encountered just the day before.
He raised an eyebrow at her, his voice low and inviting. “Sit.”
“Would you like an Americano?” he inquired, his tone easygoing.
Whitney gave a small, half-hearted nod, her mind wandering to her true preference. *I really only enjoy lattes,* she mused, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being more enthusiastic.
Klein’s sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms that hinted at an active lifestyle. “Whitney, you seem a lot more reserved than I remember. Five years can change a lot, can’t it?”
Her cheeks flushed slightly as she pondered his words. *Is he teasing me about that bold confession I made when I was sixteen?* The memory made her squirm, and she quickly focused on the cup cradled in her hands.
“No, Uncle Klein, I’ve always been kind of reserved,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Noticing her sudden shyness, Klein offered a small, amused smile. “Relax, I’m not going to eat you,” he said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Whitney jerked her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were deep and intense, making her heart race uncontrollably. *Why does he have this effect on me?*
“Carter mentioned you two were getting your marriage license soon. Has he returned from his trip?” Klein asked, studying her with an unyielding intensity.
Whitney shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. “I guess so?”
Klein’s hand hesitated as he reached for his coffee cup. “Listen, if Carter ever upsets you or doesn’t treat you well, you can always come to me,” he said, his voice serious.
A wave of emotion washed over Whitney, catching her off guard. No one had offered her such support in a long time.
“Okay, thanks, Uncle Klein,” she replied, her heart swelling with gratitude.
They continued their conversation for a bit longer, but Whitney found herself glancing at the clock, her mind racing. “Uncle Klein, I have to be at the office by 2 PM, so I should head back to the firm,” she said, standing up, eager to escape the intensity of the moment.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.