Page 81 of The Vow Thief

Eli:Hello, Sarah. Did you make it home okay?

I will be out of town this week, but I’ll send a car for you on Saturday morning at 11. I’m sending a dress, shoes, and jewelry on Thursday.

I figured if I’m going to drag you to a wedding, the least I can do is dress you in Dior.

I hope you have a wonderful week. I’ll miss you.

—Eli

I rubbed her temple, unsure whether to smile or groan.

Sarah:Hi Eli, yes, made it home. Last night was fun. It’s a shame you’ll be gone all week.

Dior? I have dresses, Eli. I can dress myself.

His reply came almost immediately.

Eli:Nonsense. Like I said, it’s the least I can do. See you in a week.

I stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen.

A week.

Plenty of time to decide whether I was falling for a man or walking straight into something I didn’t understand.

Chapter 34 - Waiting for Saturday

Thursday - Two Days Before the Wedding

Sarah’s POV

The week moved like syrup. Each day thick and heavy, refusing to end. The kids were buried in school projects and spent most nights at their grandparents’house. Since Matt moved away, my parents had stepped in more; school pickups, weekend dinners, the kind of small rescues that filled the gaps he and I left behind. My thoughts often wandered to memories of my parents with my children playing, cooking together, or just something as simple as snuggling. The intensity of how whole that made me feel often brought tears to my eyes. Happy tears.

Today, the silence felt unfamiliar.

I worked through emails, folded laundry, even tried to read, but nothing held. Every distraction dissolved back into memories of Eli. The hotel room. His hands. The way his voice dropped when he said my name.

A knock at the door startled me. A courier stood on the porch holding a silver-wrapped box and a clipboard.“Delivery for Sarah Taylor,” he said with a professional smile.

The card was small and cream-colored. His handwriting was neat, deliberate.

For Saturday night. –Eli

The box was heavier than I expected. Inside, layers of ivory tissue revealed a dress the color of soft champagne, something between light and warmth. The silk slipped through my fingers with a quiet grace, fluid and cool.

It was sleeveless, with a modest neckline that skimmed my collarbone and a fitted bodice that eased into a gentle drape at the hips. This was formal tailoring that respected the body without begging for attention.

I ran my hand over the fabric, feeling the fine weave catch against my skin. The shoes were strappy, pale gold, the kind that made a woman’s legs look longer without effort. The jewelry came last, a diamond pendant so simple it bordered on arrogance.

I stared at it all, quietly undone.

Who sends Dior for a weekend?

I didn’t even know whose wedding this was. And I was going dressed in Dior. It had to be someone important. Maybe a partner, maybe a client. Whoever it was, it mattered to him. That thought sent a small, electric thrill through me.

My phone lit up on the counter.

Eli:I hope you love them, beautiful. Bring an overnight bag for Saturday night. I have missed you terribly.