Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 565

“I picked this out for you. Do you like it?”

Forrest finally managed to tear his eyes away from Mila, stretching out his arms and making a slow turn in front of her. “I love it. But what about you, Mimi—do you like it?”

It really was a funny coincidence.

His suit carried the same blooming motif as her dress: pure white, tailored to accentuate his lean, athletic frame. Delicate white and pale blue blossoms trailed from his left shoulder down to his waist, where the jacket cinched just so. A soft green butterfly hovered at his chest, and under the warm lights, the silk shimmered with a gentle sheen—romantic, almost ethereal. On Forrest—already handsome, refined, with a quiet charm—the effect was simply otherworldly.

Nothing on earth could compare. Mila found herself staring at him in the light, unable to shake the thought: he looks like he’s stepped out of a dream.

“Does it look good?” Forrest caught her gaze and broke into a sudden smile, his eyes gleaming beneath the chandelier.

“It looks amazing,” Mila blurted, barely thinking.

“Then do you like it?”

“I do,” she answered, just as quickly.

His low laugh rumbled in her ear, and Mila, cheeks flushing, gave him a playful thump on the shoulder. “You’re teasing me again. So, are we settled on this one?”

“We are.”

Forrest grinned, his tone softening. “Honestly, anything you pick for me, I’ll love. But what I really want is to wear something you’ve made with your own hands. When we have our real wedding—would you design my suit? I’d love to help, too.”

Mila froze for a moment.

Suddenly, she remembered something from not so long ago—just a year or two back. She’d been struggling with her divorce, and over the holidays she’d taken Jade and Eugene Montgomery to church. Underneath that ancient tree by the chapel, she’d found a small red sachet. Crooked stitches on the front spelled out a single wish: “May Mimi know happiness always.”

She couldn’t help asking, “Was that you?”

Forrest pushed up his glasses and looked away, uncharacteristically shy. “I made it. Took me forever to get the stitches right… It can’t compare to your work.”

Of course it was you.

Mila smiled. “But I loved it, Forrest. Thank you.”

“So, about the wedding suit?”

“Of course I’ll design it for you,” Mila replied, then hesitated. “But I can only do yours—Jade already claimed my wedding dress. She’s wanted to design it herself for years.”

“That’s perfect, actually.”

Forrest slipped an arm around her waist, gathering up the soft tulle of her gown, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Then my suit—will you make it, Mimi?”

“I’d love to.”

She tipped her face up, neither dodging nor shying away.

Under the lights, the two of them stood together—their features both striking and delicate—surrounded by layers of pastel silk and a thousand embroidered blossoms. The scene was so beautiful that even the boutique owner stood frozen, caught up in the moment, and almost absentmindedly reached for her phone.