“Glo, money isn’t an issue.”

“I know you have your business,” Gloria said. “But you don’t need to be spending it all on me.”

“I’m a partner in a comfortably successful business. Luke and I happen to hold the patent on a fancy little joist system that turns a decent profit.”

“Decent profit?” But she was waving her hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business.”

“I want you to have beautiful things, Glo. I hope you’re okay with accepting gifts because this was the most fun I’ve ever had shopping. I pictured you looking just like you do now.” His voice was rough, but the words felt like a caress.

“Aldo,” Gloria clutched a hand to her heart. “You make it hard to breathe.”

He beamed at her, that boyish grin that she recognized from her ninth-grade study hall. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the broken woman anymore either. She was someone new.

70

He’d worried that the limo was too over-the-top, but when Gloria gasped and grabbed his arm, his regrets went out the window. Then she’d insisted he take a picture of her hanging out the sunroof, and he knew he’d done good.

They drank champagne behind tinted windows and talked about their days as if it was common for them to spend their Friday night in the back of a limo. Gloria reveled in pushing each and every button she could find. Opening and closing the sunroof, opening and closing the minibar, changing the lighting from white to purple to swirling disco.

And Aldo enjoyed every second of it.

She’d never had a prom. Another rite of passage stolen from her. Another memory for him to make with her. When Sara suggested romance, Aldo put some serious thought into it. He’d never been a big romance guy. Had never gotten serious enough with someone where romance was required. But Gloria deserved this. And seeing her enjoy herself, seeing her bloom with happiness, made him wish he’d thought to do this sooner.

They arrived at their destination, and Aldo helped her out of the back seat.

“Thank you,” Gloria said to the driver who held the door. “Where are we?” she asked, studying the building before them.

Aldo gave a nod to the driver, who winked at him.

“This is the Breeches Creek Mill,” Aldo said, tucking her hand through his arm and leading them up three short steps to the door. He turned the knob. “It’s being renovated for event space. I happen to know the owner who owes me a favor. So their first event is your prom.”