Page 49 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

“Let me in. I want to pee!” Evie’s voice was significantly less graceful as she thumped her fist on the door. “Ugh—never mind. I’m using Annabeth’s bathroom. Don’t show anyone anything until I get back!”

Jamison stood alone in front of her floor-length mirror, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. The dress was too short. It hit just above her ankle, leaving her painted toes exposed.

But that’s about where the problems with the dress ended.

The satin skirt floated around her hips like it had been made for her.

The bodice hugged her curves, and the halter tie secured firmly behind her neck helped to show off her cleavage perfectly.

As she spun, the fabric fanned around her in a sweeping arc of white, and the image she caught at every turn made her immensely happy.

She would still wear the dress she designed for Liam, but at this moment, wearing her mother’s gown in the quiet of her room felt so right.

To her, Laura Jean Eddins was something akin to a fairytale.

A myth more than a memory. And while it often felt like she was living in the shadow of a legend, it allowed her to observe how everyone processed the loss of Laura Jean in their own way.

Her father told his stories. Simone would always stop and admire a painting or visit a new art exhibition that might roll through town.

Evie would dance at the oddest of times, making Samuel and their girls join in.

For Jamison, it was a little more surreal. She had her dreams. Those weirdly fantastic fantasies her brain concocted to show mother-daughter conversations never to be had.

Yet, in this dress, the woman she would never know felt very much real. A ghost at her side. A memory that might not have been hers to have but was still hers, nevertheless.

The door opened and shut, scaring the shit out of her. “Jesus!”

Liam flipped the lock to keep a shouting Annabeth out. “Wow,” he exhaled as his gaze roamed over her. “You look…I don’t ha ve the words.”

She swished her skirts at him, making the hemline creep upward to her knees. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

He took a slow step closer. “You’re beautiful.”

She twirled for him, letting the skirt swirl higher. “Tell me you love me.”

“I’ll love you always and forever.”

“Well then, Mr. Cohen, if you think this looks good…” She bit her bottom lip, eyes dancing. “Just wait until you see me in my real dress.”

Liam glanced up at the camera. The indicator light glowed blue, which meant sound only. Rowan was giving them privacy.

“He said I have two minutes.”

“Two minutes to what?”

Her question was answered with a kiss.

One heartbeat, then another, and Liam had crossed the room. His mouth crashed into hers like a man starved. “To have a moment alone with my future wife.”

She clung to him, pretending for a moment—just one—that the world outside didn’t exist. No Sinclair. No Zanmi. No surveillance. Just them in this room, on the brink of forever.

“Easy.” Liam chuckled when she moaned. “They can still hear.”

“I can be quiet,” she whispered, dropping kisses against his throat. “We could slip into the closet and—”

Her phone on the vanity buzzed with a text, and she glanced at it, rolling her eyes when she saw it was from Samuel.

Stop being fucking gross and tell Liam to come down.

Liam sighed, pressing a final kiss to her lips before pulling back. “We were in the middle of going over everything when I snuck out to see you in this.”

“Samuel can wait.” She pouted. “I don’t care if he hears us.”

He winced. “Actually…it’s not just Samuel. It’s Samuel, Holden, my parents, Klausen, Anderson, Izzy, Abe—oh, and Carter just got here.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. “Wonderful.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He gave her a final squeeze. “You look amazing.”

She caught his hand before he could go. “Anything yet? Any pings or whatever?”

A shake of his head was the only reply she got .

“Do I have to keep this up?”

She asked because the whole thing was depressing. Of course, they couldn’t get married right now, but that didn’t mean the urgency they both felt had gone away. She wanted to be his wife. Today. Not tomorrow. Not this weekend. Not when the time was right. She wanted it now.

Liam nodded and walked backward to the door. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He opened the door, slipping out just as Annabeth rushed in with Evie waddling behind her. The girls were holding their mother’s hands, both gasping when they caught sight of Jamison.

Annabeth skidded to a stop. “Oh, wow.”

“Turn me around!” Selah’s voice boomed from the phone in her hand. When Annabeth flipped the screen, his jaw dropped. “Holy crap. I remember the day your mom tried that dress on and stood right in the same spot. Do you remember, Evie?”

Evie didn’t answer. She stood still and stared wide-eyed, with one hand clutching her baby bump while the other covered her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, the glow from earlier now eclipsed by something else.

“That’s a super sparkly dress,” Harper said from her mother’s side. “Can I have one like it?”

“Yous so so so verys pretty, Auntie!” Theo bounced excitedly, tugging on her mom’s arm. “Isn’t she, Mama?”

Evie promptly burst into tears, and not just a trickle.

This was full-blown sobbing, shoulders shaking, breath hitching, kind of crying that left you breathless.

She turned her face away, trying to muffle the sound behind her hands, but it only made it worse.

“She sure is, baby,” she gasped between sobs.

“Auntie is always beautiful, but today she looks extra special.”

“What’s going on up here?” Jamison heard her father’s question seconds before he appeared in the doorway. “Who’s crying? Kid, answer m—”

Jamison froze as her father stared at her, the concern on his face crumbling into shock. “Holy shit.”

Behind him, Simone and Josie hurried in, both women colliding with one another when they came to a full stop. “Girls, come with us. Let’s get some lunch,” Simone said, sounding like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I’ll make your favorite.”

Theo and Harper went with their grandmothers, and Annabeth followed, taking Selah on the phone with her.

And then the room was quiet again, except for the sound of Evie trying to breathe through her tears.

Swiping his hand over his mouth, her father approached slowly as if she were a wild animal. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Evie’s tears went into full waterfall mode, and Jamison shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t realize how much this would upset them. “I should change.”

“No, I want a picture!” Evie rummaged through her maternity dress pockets but came up empty, which only brought on more crying. “I don’t have my phone!”

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall, bringing a charging Samuel into the room. “What happened?” He went straight to Evie, placing one hand on her belly, the other smoothing over her lower spine. “Hey. Deep breaths. You’re okay.”

Samuel hadn’t noticed her yet, and when his eye flashed her way, he paled as deeply as their father had. “Holy fucking shit.”

Jamison looked at each of them—her father, her brother, her sister—and tried to make sense of the emotional hurricane stirring around her. “What is wrong with you people?”

“You look like her,” her father began, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course, she does.”

Evie sniffled. “We knew that, but seeing you in that dress is like… well, it’s like she’s standing right in front of us.”

Feeling helpless about how to make this easier, Jamison swished the skirt like she had with Liam. “I’m too tall.”

Her father grinned, his two dimples popping out. “Yeah, you are. That’s on me, I’m afraid. Sorry, princess.”

Evie hiccupped and calmed a little. “Mom would have loved how tall you are. She adored comparing you to Ben. She loved you both so much and how alike you two are.”

Samuel’s expression softened, freaking Jamison out even more. “You’re a Fairweather for sure, but sometimes—”

“Yeah, sometimes, the way you move or the way you say something in just the right way catches me off guard because it’s her,” Evie cut in, wiping her cheeks. “You act like Ben, but you act like her too, and on the outside—other than your height—it’s all Mama.”

Taking Jamison by the shoulders, her father turned her to face the mirror. “Your mom was really into this kind of stuff. Laura Jean loved wedding dresses the most.”

“Ben?” Taylor's voice carried in from the hall. “Where are you?”

“It’s Sunday,” Jamison whispered. “What is she doing here?”

“Hell, if I know,” he replied, starting for the door. “In here, Taylor.”

“Oh, hey!” Taylor popped into the room before anyone could stop her. “Wow, Jamison. You look… great? That dress is a little old-fashioned but works with your figure.”

Getting herself under control, Evie leaned on Samuel for support. “It was our mother’s wedding dress.”

“The wedding dress she wore when she married your father?” Taylor pointed at Evie before swinging her index finger in Jamison’s direction. “Or the one she was supposed to wear with your father? Sorry, but I get confused.”

If it weren’t for everyone being used to Taylor’s obliviousness and total lack of filter, she would have been thrown out on her ass for such a stupid question.

But after their talk, Jamison had come to the conclusion that this was just Taylor.

The stark bluntness likely got her ahead at the office because, as they all knew, the head of Fairweather Holdings appreciated loyalty and honesty above all else.

Jamison would also bet that the behavior was a defense mechanism. After losing her husband and dreams of the future, Taylor probably didn’t want to get close to anyone and just let any random thought that entered her brain fly right out of her mouth.

“It’s the dress Laura Jean was going to wear when she married me,” her father said, taking over the conversation. “And not to be rude, but why are you here, Taylor?”

“The Fire Marshal has been trying to get in touch with you. He thinks he has a solution to the recall and wants to run the plan past you before he signs off on it.” Taylor held up her ringing cell phone, answering the call with a sharp jab to the screen.

“Taylor Cabot, assistant to Mr. Benjamin Fairweather, speaking. Yes, sir. I have him right here.”

Jamison watched as her father attempted to corral Taylor out of the room and downstairs, careful not to touch her as he did. The door closed behind them, and Evie nudged Samuel to follow, making him frown at his wife. “Why can’t I stay?”

“Because she needs to change,” Evie told him. “I haven’t seen her actual wedding dress on her yet, and I want to have a moment alone with my sister when she tries it on.”

He smirked down at her. “Technically, she’s my sister too.”

“This argument will not get you anywhere, Samuel.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My arguments get me everywhere, Evangeline.” He kissed her temple, patting her ass on the way out. “I’ll be right on the landing.”

Once he was gone, Evie sighed dreamily. “I love my husband.”

Jamison wrinkled her nose. “I’m surprised he even let you out of his sight for the fifteen minutes we were in the attic.”

“Izzy was on the stairs.” Evie joined her at the mirror, fiddling with the halter strap to get it smoothed down just right. “He thinks he’s sneaky and sent her.”

“At least he seems to be in a playful mood today. That’s new.”

“He’s sex-starved, so he’s trying to get on my good side for the next time you guys shut the security system down,” Evie explained. “We missed this last one because Harper had an upset stomach.”

Jamison shushed her. “The security cameras are still transmitting our conversation into the room where everyone is getting an update.”

“Do you think the people in that room don’t know Samuel and I have sex?” Evie waved a hand at her stomach. “I think the cat is out of the bag.”

“Gross.”

“Whatever,” Evie shot back, ready to defend her marriage. She did it so much initially that it was second nature to her now. “Go try on your dress for me.”

She would since it was Evie asking, but really, Jamison wanted the next time she put on her wedding dress to be when she walked down the aisle to Liam. “Fine.”

Grabbing her phone, she slipped off into the walk-in closet and checked to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. No missed calls—thank God—but there was a new message from Liam.

You look lovely today, Mrs. Cohen.

She grinned like a complete idiot and texted back:

I’m not Mrs. Cohen yet.

The phone pinged with a response.

Just testing it out. I like the way it rolls off my tongue.

With an evil cackle, she began typing a rapid-fire response. He had left himself wide open with that text.

I like the way you fuck me with said ton—

Her phone rang immediately, and the screen displayed Liam’s name. She answered it with a giggle. “I was just typing back and saying I love the way you fuck me with your tongue.”

Silence.

But then a chuckle, rich and deep, tickled her ear.

Michael Sinclair.

“I haven’t fucked you with my tongue yet, but I hear I’m pretty good at it.”