One long work week later, Rhys found himself happily wrapping an arm around an exhausted Feyre to steer her from the wreckage that had become her office. All week she had been packed with meetings and had started ending every meeting with 'We'll get back to you' as the paperwork piled up. They had been taking some home, a few potential clients to go through every night. Some needed immediate help. Some were looking for future protection. And some were just there to waste their time. Several of them, Rhys suspected were sent by Hybern to scope out what they were doing. Usually Azriel followed them up the elevator and sat outside of Feyre's office for the moment they would leave or she would raise her voice even a little. Rhys had left him to his work and had only checked on Feyre when Lucien would come back from giving her coffee and would give him a very specific look that told him he might be needed.
But now it was Friday evening and Rhys had convinced Feyre to leave the notes she had taken for the day behind. He had dinner planned to celebrate the removal of his stitches and the removal of all restrictions on his person. He had every plan to ravish Feyre properly to help her unwind, sleep far easier, and forget completely about work for the weekend.
"Rhys?" Feyre murmured his name as they got in the town car they had been taking since his accident. It had been more for Feyre's comfort than his own. He still believed he could drive just fine, but Feyre had pleaded.
"Yes, Darling," he pulled her in close, still loving how she fit perfectly against him. It was a benefit of taking a town car that he had been loving. He could cuddle Feyre all he wanted on the ride home. He had to wait until they got home if he drove, and even then, he and Feyre often parted ways when they got home to strip themselves of work attire and get ready for a quiet dinner. He usually had to wait until after dinner was cleaned up before he got her in his arms.
"I was thinking that tomorrow I can go to your mother's shop and get my wedding dress sorted out," she settled her head against her favorite place on his shoulder. A place molded just for her.
"I'll have someone take you," he promised. "Maybe Mor will want to go with."
"I was actually hoping you would come," she whispered.
"Me?" He shifted her back to look at her face. "You know it's forbidden for the groom to see the dress before the wedding. Bad luck or something."
"I'd like your opinion. You picked out that dress for the art gallery on our first date so you must have some sort of fashion sense," she teased.
"You know I picked that gown out?" Rhys demanded. His cheeks flushed red.
"Well, you just confirmed it, but Mor couldn't stop muttering about trying to find your designer someday as she helped me into it," Feyre giggled and Rhys couldn't help but smile.
"My mother made it," he admitted. "She made a lot of gowns even after marrying my father. She gave me a few before everything happened, in case I ever met a woman worth wearing them." He couldn't help the small bashful smile that crept to his mouth. Feyre fit those gowns perfectly now. Her body was perfectly the right size, just like her finger was the right size for that ring. It was almost as if his mother had seen Feyre in his future. Almost as if they were soulmates destined to find one another and his mother had somehow had the vision of them.
"She was very talented," Feyre murmured, pressing a kiss to his jawline.
"She was," he agreed. "I'll go with you tomorrow. But I also want to take you shopping for other new clothes," he braced himself. Feyre drew back from him and looked down at her straining blouse and nearly too tight skirt.
"I've been meaning to do that," she admitted. "I guess I've put on some weight."
"Healthy weight. You're healthy," he pressed. "And you look amazing." He smirked down at her knowing exactly how to steer her away from any negative thoughts about her body filling out to a far more womanly shape. "But if you don't get clothes that fit, one day those buttons are going to burst off that blouse and I'm going to have to jump you right then and there, regardless of clients or Lucien."
"Hmm," she gave him a wicked smirk back. "Perhaps I'll keep wearing a few of these around the house to see when that might happen."
"I'd prefer you wear nothing around the house," he purred.
"Azriel might object," she stroked a hand down his chest.
"Azriel moved home this morning after I was cleared by Thesan. He can't say I can't take care of myself if the world's most talented surgeon clears me," Rhys bragged. It hadn't been discussed at all actually. Once Azriel had been informed of Rhys' freedom, he had volunteered to gather his things immediately with a plea that Rhys not wake the neighborhood and get noise complaints called in on them.
Oh and he had plans. He knew exactly how he wanted to start and how he wanted to finish. He knew every position he would put them in in between. He would give Feyre no reason to leave bed in the morning. There was a chance they would need to delay their shopping until Sunday if his hopes came true.
"I beg to differ," Feyre interrupted his thoughts. He had to remind himself that Feyre was talking about him taking care of himself. "I don't know how they haven't given you a keeper yet."
"The Mother and the Cauldron did," he gripped her hand and twisted it so he could see the star sapphire shining brightly back at him. When he looked back up at Feyre's face she was shining just as brightly, and he couldn't help himself as he pulled her onto his lap to kiss her fiercely for the rest of the way home.
In the morning, Rhys was so utterly spent from the night before that he begged Feyre to stay in bed, but she hadn't. She had simply told him to get up whenever he was ready and she'd be about. It took him three hours to drag himself from bed and pull on a pair of lounge pants to go search for Feyre.
She wasn't in the kitchen though there was evidence she had been there. Instead he found her in her studio, wearing one of her far too small blouses unbuttoned and nothing else as she painted. The scene on the canvas was of swirling galaxies in the night sky over Prythian. It was beautiful but Feyre was even more so. He wished he was some sort of artist so he could capture the moment she glanced back at him over her shoulder, the blouse shifting down her arm at the movement.
"Are you awake now?" She asked.
"I'm awake, and other parts of me are very awake by your current state," he admitted. "Perhaps we should get in the shower?" He had visions of how the shower would go but most likely he would end up scrubbing the paint off her skin. There was already a patch of dark blue running down her bare thigh and some very interesting splatters on her chest he could imagine would be quite satisfying to pay some attention to.
"Let me finish this area and I'll be all yours," she promised.
Rhys only nodded and waited. He loved watching Feyre paint and even more so when she was practically naked in front of him. She was so precise in how she moved her paint brush and she would bite her lip right before making the tiniest of strokes.
It took far longer than anticipated for Feyre to finish and for them to get out of the shower but eventually they found their way to his mother's former dress shop. The owner was happy to greet them and ushered Feyre straight into the bride's section, giving a disapproving shake of her head when Feyre relayed that she wanted Rhys with her.
"Are you sure you want him to see you in the dress?" She asked when Feyre repeated her request and beckoned Rhys to them. "It goes against tradition and it's fun to see the groom get all emotional when he sees you for the first time."
"When I get to marry Feyre, it won't be seeing her in a gown that will have me losing control. It will be getting to call her my wife," Rhys told the owner and gripped Feyre's hand. It had apparently been the right thing to say because Rhys found himself shoved into the chair near the bride's pedestal while Feyre was taken around the store to find a dress.
Over the course of the next two hours, Rhys watched Feyre try on gown after gown in various styles but none of them were quite right. Even she was starting to look crestfallen at the thought she might not find the dress in this particular store. But then the owner disappeared into the back and came out with something that Rhys would not have thought was a wedding gown but rather a ball gown, though it was designed more along the lines of a wedding gown.
The dark fabric glittered as if it was made of thousands of dark blue crystals spotted with white like night sky. The skirt wasn't necessarily full, but it didn't cling and gave the right amount of volume along with a short train. The back was open and the front dipped just low enough to show the curve of her chest.
"It's beautiful," Feyre murmured as the owner took it out of the garment bag.
"It was the last gown your mother designed, Rhys," the owner looked to him. "She left it here thinking some unconventional bride might not want a white dress. I scoffed at the time but, here she is."
Rhys had no words to comment. Nothing to say as Feyre was whisked into the dressing room, put in the gown, and paraded back out in front of him. She beamed up at him even before turning to the mirror. He knew in that moment she had made her decision. She stroked her hands down the fabric reverently while the owner bustled about to find matching jewelry that she would normally use to help make the sale. Rhys didn't have the heart to tell her the sale was already made as a pair of diamond earrings were produced along with a glittering diamond necklace.
"Oh Feyre," someone breathed out behind him and Rhys turned just as Feyre did to see Elain standing there, her wedding gown in her hands. Rhys stood, about to tell her to keep whatever comments to herself, but Elain simply beamed up at Feyre. "That looks like it was made just for you."
Rhys kept his eyes on Feyre, waiting for any sign of unhappiness at her sister's intrusion but Feyre seemed to simply glow a little more.
"It's perfect," Feyre agreed. "What do you think, Rhys?"
Rhys simply smiled at her. In his mother's gown, wearing her ring, looking just utterly beautiful in every way, he was certain his mother must have seen this moment in his future. He stepped closer to Feyre and wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her in for a kiss because he certainly couldn't help himself.
"Save it for the wedding night," the owner chided him.
"Right," Rhys pulled back and grinned up at Feyre once more. "Shall we settle the bill?"
"You know I can't charge you for something your mother made, Rhysand," the owner placed her hands on her hips. "She probably made it with whatever bride you dragged in some day in mind."
"Then let me pay you for storing it all of these years," Rhys changed tactics.
"Is there something I can help you with, Dearie?" The owner turned away from him to Elain and Rhys knew it was likely a lost cause to argue. He would argue, but more likely he would just send payment to the store. He knew the account number thanks to them belonging to Velaris.
"I know there's a no return policy, but the wedding is off and I would rather just not look at this anymore. Is there any way you can just take it back?" Elain babbled as she followed the owner to the register. Rhys watched them for all of a moment before Feyre turning back to the mirror drew his eye. He stepped up onto the pedestal behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I'm glad you asked me to come along," he murmured into her ear. "I can't wait to marry you."
"Have we decided on a date yet?" She asked, her pointed ear turning towards him.
"Last I remember, all we had decided on was something small," he reminded her.
"Are you sure you're okay with that?" She turned back towards him.
"And I remember assuring you that I was," he kissed her nose. "Let's buy this dress, go shopping for some new clothes that aren't about to pop off of you causing an unnecessary scene for anyone witnessing how I respond, and then we can discuss how soon I can call you my wife."
"Hypothetically, what's the soonest we could marry?" She asked as she pulled from his arms.
"Unfortunately, it's the weekend so getting a marriage license is out until Monday, so… Tuesday." He watched her seem to weigh that option and then without a word, she disappeared into the changing room to take off the gown and pull her other clothes back on.
Mother bless him, if she wanted to get married on Tuesday he was certain his family would try and shoot him. Not that they would take a honeymoon immediately but for them all to have a day off of work it would be difficult, especially on such short notice. And he knew Feyre's next three weeks were already booked solid with back to back meetings. Rescheduling any of it would be difficult. But as Feyre stepped back out of the dressing room, the gown back on its hanger and began to meticulously place it back in the garment bag, he realized if she wanted Tuesday, he'd move the stars to make it work.
"Are you truly considering Tuesday?" He asked as he followed her up to the register.
"Would it be a problem?" She turned to quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Well, I'd have to start making some calls tonight. Throw my impressive name around to get things moving…" he knew in his heart she was playing once her eyebrow went up. He knew she was trying to see if she could rattle him at all. "And our family might want notice. Preferably more than a couple of days."
"You know Mor needs much longer than that to pick out a suitable dress, even if we do keep it small," Feyre shot back. "And we will still need to agree on a place."
"Small details," Rhys assured her.
"Well, perhaps we should spend the weekend working out some of these small details," she smirked up at him. "Since you can't wait to marry me." Then her smile slipped down into something sweeter. "And I can't wait to marry you."
Elain was waiting by the register as they approached it. Her dress was gone from her arms and she was watching them. Feyre gave her a sympathetic smile.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out." And it was true, Rhys realized. She was being completely honest. Even if her sisters had made her miserable and had taken the world from her, Feyre didn't want them to be miserable. She wanted them to be happy. His selfless soulmate.
"I'm starting to see he wasn't as good of a man as I thought," Elain offered back. "But I'm glad you found someone who can make you happy." She waffled for a moment. "I never thanked you for buying my wedding dress. So thank you. I wish I could offer something in return."
"There is something," Feyre reached down into her purse and pulled out a card. One of the cards Rhys had had made up with Feyre's name, title, and the phone number to call to make an appointment with her. "I wrote your meeting time on the back. I was hoping to talk about your flower shop. I tried to work around your store hours so hopefully you can make that time, but if you can't call that number and reschedule. I think there are some things we can do to help you build up your customer base."
Elain took the card with a murmured thanks and left the store. Rhys tucked his comments back until they were done arguing with the owner about the price of the dress and then had the dress secured in the car.
"I know she's your sister," he started.
"She is my sister," Feyre cut him off. "Sometimes she would ask for money from me to buy new clothes and then come home with paints for me. It wasn't much but I remember she might have been the only one to encourage me."
"Alright, fine, but," he started again and she gripped his face to pull him down for a kiss.
"Think objectively," she pressed. "If it was any other business in her situation, and don't think I don't know where those flowers came from so you know the situation. You'd help her."
"Up until Monday, I had planned to. But between her and your other sister visiting on Monday, I lost the heart to want to help them," Rhys admitted, and felt more guilt about it than he was willing to let on.
"I'm not saying we invite them to the wedding," Feyre pressed. "But I know Elain is talented at what she does. She's always been good with flowers. She'd benefit us if we took her up under Velaris terms."
"Fine," he sighed, more guilt and shame eating at him. He couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of this one. "Let's talk about anything else. Like, perhaps, which boutiques you want to go into in this area to shop for new clothes."
"I know just the place." Feyre hooked her hand through his and walked him right to the lingerie store he had had absolutely no intention of bringing her to that day. By the time they walked through the doors, he was certain Feyre knew exactly what she was doing to him. "My undergarments are starting to get a bit tight too. I thought we'd start with those, unless you'd rather I shop for those alone…" she teased him.
"You're going to be the death of me," he promised her. She truly would. If his heart could burst from all he felt for her alone, she would be the death of him. But he found himself pleasantly happy to discover it might be the best way to go.