Wish I Never Met You Chapter 4 Part 1
CHAPTER 4 · PART ONE
Sunlight streamed through Gabby’s window, painting the room in soft, golden hues. The air felt thick, almost stifling, though Gabby moved around as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, her expression half-focused and half-bored.
“I hope he’ll be nice, at least.”
Her words twisted something deep in my stomach.
Of course she was skeptical. Seth Baker wasn’t known for being warm and fuzzy, even though he’d promised to be on his best behavior. For Gabby. For me.
I’d been repeating those words all morning, but they did little to calm the nerves fluttering relentlessly in my chest.
“You’ll like him,” I said softly. “You’ll see.”
“Whatever.”
She grabbed the dress lying on the bed and held it up, her eyes narrowing.
The fabric shimmered slightly in the sunlight, the champagne color glowing against her skin. It was an A-line dress—simple yet elegant—with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and hem.
Too extravagant for a casual dinner. Undeniably beautiful.
Fit for a little princess.
Gabby glanced at me. “Hope he wasn’t the one who bought the dress.”
“Nope.”
Her brow lifted, unimpressed.
Yeah. Seth had bought the dress.
He’d said it was to make a good impression. That he understood how much Gabby meant to me. An olive branch—his attempt to win her over.
I didn’t love it, but I let it slide.
Everyone deserved a chance.
“I don’t believe you.”
She knew me too well—could sniff out a lie before I even finished telling it.
“I used my savings,” I said with a careless shrug.
“Because you want to marry a rich man, you now want to be reckless.”
“Gabby,” I said firmly, “that’s no way to speak to your mom. I won’t tolerate that.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue.
Instead, she slipped the dress over her head with sharp, annoyed movements. The silence between us was as pointed as her glare.
I watched my little girl transform—adjusting the hem, smoothing the fabric, sunlight catching in her hair until it gleamed.
My chest tightened with pride, love, and an ever-present knot of nerves.
“Is he a single parent like you?”
I nodded.
What did I really know about Seth Baker? A son. A divorce or two. Obscenely wealthy. Tight-lipped. Private.
A mystery.
“A son or daughter?” she asked. “Or both?”
“A boy.”
“How old is he?”
“Probably your age.”
I wasn’t sure—but admitting that would only raise more questions.
“Is his son going to be here?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“He lives in England. That’s far away.”
She nodded slowly.
“What about his parents?”
“They won’t be coming either.”
“Why? They live far away too?”
I nodded again.
“So when are we going to meet them?”
“Very soon.”
I reached out and ruffled her hair.
“Mom, stop. I already combed it.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I laughed, pulling her into a hug.
She hesitated—then wrapped her arms around me, holding tight.
Gabby might not like Seth. Might not want me to marry him.
But the effort—the questions, the dress, the curiosity—said everything.
She loved me as much as I loved her.