I opened Pandora's box, so now I've got to deal with it. Somehow telling her not to worry about it doesn't seem like it'll fly. So I step closer, place both hands on her cheeks, run my thumb over her chin, and confess, "They only cared about material things...about my money."

She takes short breaths, making my cock ache more. But her expression makes me think I made her uncomfortable, so I claim, "Sorry, we shouldn't talk about this."

"They didn't deserve you," she blurts out, then her cheeks heat under my palms.

Her statement affects me. I wish it didn't. I don't know what's happening to me. I don't normally let women get under my skin after everything I've been through. My pulse buzzes through my veins.

We say nothing for a while, just stand here staring at each other.

I finally step back and question, "So this is okay? You'd be happy to marry me here?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I would. It's perfect. Way better than anything I could ever imagine."

"What have you imagined?"

She shrugs. "I never really had a vision about a place when I thought about marriage. I just imagined the guy."

My pulse quickens. I dare to question, "And what about that guy? What's he like?" I step closer to her again, inhaling her sugary-rose scent.

She ponders my question but doesn't flinch. She finally answers, "He loves and adores me. And I love and adore him."

Flutters fill my stomach. "And?"

"And what more is there?" she questions.

"You never thought about anything else? What your ring looks like? What kind of food you'll serve your guests? The dress you'll wear? What he does for a living?" I interrogate.

She shakes her head and lifts her chin. "No, none of that matters."

"How does it not matter?" I quiz, wondering how she could mean that.

Doesn't every girl think about those things?

Is she telling the truth?

Is this a game to somehow trick me as the others did? Or does she really feel this way?

Something tells me that this is her. That there's nothing false about Georgia and that she doesn't lie.

She's lying to my family.

But I made her lie to my family.

"If you have that, nothing else matters, Sebastian," she claims.

I try to process what she's saying and deal with unfamiliar emotions growing more intense by the minute.

She looks around again and nods. "This will be perfect."

"So it can be your dream wedding, then," I joke.

Her face falls. She asserts, "No, Sebastian, it won't."

"What do you need, then?" I question, confused. Everything in my head screams that I need to make it into everything she's ever wanted.

"This is fine for us," she claims.