He knows all of me… and he still wants to get married? Again?
I don’t realize I’ve said that part out loud until Mikhail answers. “I don’t want anyone to question who you are to me.” He thumbs the column of my throat possessively. “Especially not you.”
Mikhail’s hand shifts to my cheek to dab away the tears that finally forced their way through my shock. He gives me a tentative smile. “Are these because you’re happy?”
After the emotional Tilt-A-Whirl of the last few hours, I’m barely functioning. Self-awareness definitely isn’t on the table.
“I d-don’t know,” I stammer. He frowns and I rush to correct myself. “I mean, yes! Yes. Of course I’m happy. I just don’t know—I didn’t see this—I don’t have a dress.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Is that your only argument against? Because, to be hon
