Read Online What He's Been Missing by Grace Octavia - Free Book Online

ticket to anywhere he went. He knew fine art, fine food, history, politics. He was rich. Had manicured hands. Good teeth. Great bones. Curly hair (I’m country, so I like curly hair—whatever). He wasn’t like anything I knew. A lot of men in Atlanta have money now. A lot of men in Atlanta drive Bentleys and live in penthouses. But Preston didn’t do it like it was new. Like it mattered to him. He was just prime rib. And he liked me! Now, I admit that I slept with him on the first date—but it wasn’t for naught. The next morning, before he drove me home, he asked me out again. He was going to the mayor’s ball and wanted me to be his date. I nearly died. Nearly fainted and just died. I was a long way from Chauncey and that pickup truck. Of course I said yes. The only problem was that while Preston had been asleep, I’d gone through his house (just a little detective work to see if he really was who he’d claimed to be) and found pictures of his former fiancée. She was a pretty thing. A long neck and cherry-shaped eyes. What bothered me, though—and I suppose I was looking because Preston had called me “thick” in bed—was that she couldn’t have been over a size 0. Her arms looked like golf clubs. Her fingers, cocktail straws. And there Preston was, sliding a huge rock on one of those straws in a picture he’d stashed in his desk drawer. I wanted a huge rock! I looked down at my chubby fingers and thus began the craziness. I had ten days to lose twenty pounds for the mayor’s ball. I’d make my grand, high-society debut on the arms of The Dr. Preston Alcott! Krista suggested I try this lemonade and cayenne pepper diet. It was ridiculous, had me dreaming of cheeseburgers and fried eggs all week, but I kept Preston in my mind and I did it. I lost the twenty pounds in ten days, and the morning of the dance, I was model gaunt and could fit into a size 6. I shimmied into Preston’s arms and thought I was Halle Berry. Until the middle of the night. Then I was feeling lightheaded. Then I fainted.
    â€œThat situation is in the past,” I protested the memory of Preston looking so embarrassed as he helped get me onto a gurney in the middle of the dance floor at the mayor’s ball. “It was just too much pressure to be perfect.”
    â€œPressure you placed on yourself,” Ian said.
    â€œMen like Preston expect that. They want you to be perfect,” I said.
    â€œI (You) hate them,” Ian and I said together.
    â€œSo what am I supposed to do? Be single for the rest of my life?” I asked.
    â€œNo, you got me!” Ian answered. “And I’m a doctor, too!”
    â€œYeah, right! And where have you been anyway? I haven’t heard from you since the big proposal at the hotel weeks ago.”
    â€œScarlet has had me everywhere,” Ian said. “Dinners. The engagement party—”
    â€œEngagement party? You didn’t invite me?”
    â€œOh, it was small. Just some folks at her parents’ house.”
    â€œThat was fast,” I said.
    â€œYeah, seems like everything is moving pretty quickly.” Ian’s face went nervous. He seemed to drift away. “My Scarlet sure knows what she wants.”
    â€œDo you?”
    â€œI’m fine!” He raised his voice as he refocused on me. “No need to revisit what happened at the hotel. It was just nerves. I love Scarlet. And I’m ready to get married.”
    â€œBeing ready to get married is no reason to marry someone.”
    â€œAre we going to do this? Are you really going to force me to have this conversation in front of”—he turned and pointed at the sign over the shop—“Big Bird’s Auto Body?”
    â€œWell, you—”
    â€œI’m in love! I’m getting married.”
    â€œOK!” I held up my hands in surrender.
    â€œAnd . . . speaking of the wedding . . .” Ian smiled at