The Duplicate Bride

by Ginny Baird

  Sally strode to the window, which looked over the back lawn. “Yep, getting crowded already. The chairs are nearly full.”

  At least this was finally happening, so it would all be over soon.

  Then Hope could get on with her ordinary life and try to pretend this never happened.

  …

  Hope clutched her bouquet tightly in both hands and approached the path leading to the altar. While the floral arrangement was gorgeous, she liked the handpicked flowers that Brent had given her for the rehearsal even more.

  She saw him standing between the minister and Derrick under the large oak tree, and his image took her breath away. Brent was even more devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo than she could have imagined, and she’d been imagining him a lot.

  The sun was behind her as she inched forward with Eleanor at her elbow. “Wait just one sec,” Eleanor whispered as the violinist played the prelude and Sally, Sofia, and Meredith took their turns walking down the aisle, holding yellow rose bouquets.

  Once they’d assumed their places on the minister’s left side, the violinist changed tunes. Unexpectedly, though, she didn’t begin a string edition of “Wedding March.”

  She started in on a heartfelt rendering of “Don’t Worry Baby” by the Beach Boys. Tears sprang to Hope’s eyes when she realized what Brent had done. He’d requested this just for her. Eleanor held her back while the musician finished the sweet refrain, ending on a high note.

  Hope gathered her reserves with a sniff, telling herself not to be foolish. None of this is real, she repeated in her head. It’s all make believe.

  After a short pause, “Wedding March” began, and wedding guests turned their heads in Hope’s direction. Eleanor lightly tapped her arm, and she began her unsteady promenade toward the altar, people standing from their chairs while the strains of the music played on.

  As Hope passed folks by, they sent her admiring glances before turning to smile at the groom. These were mostly extended family from Brent’s side, and Hope didn’t recognize most of the faces.

  Her gaze swept past Grandpa Chad and Grandmother Margaret in the front row next to Ava. Elsa and Parker were seated there as well, and there was a nice-looking middle-aged man with a solid jaw next to Parker. Hope took him to be the family friend Margaret had said was like a brother to Brent’s dad and an uncle to Parker and Elsa’s children.

  Two women vaguely resembling Elsa were located nearby, each with her husband, and every single face Hope encountered was lit up like morning sunshine.

  Then she turned her eyes on Brent, and he blew them all away with his stunning smile and sexy dark eyes that beheld her with adoration and wonder.

  This isn’t real, she told herself again, repeating the mantra over and over.

  Not real. Not real. Not real.

  Hope sucked in a breath as the minister motioned for the guests to be seated.

  Make believe.

  The musician completed her song, leaving the sonorous sound rising in the wind.

  Hope’s stomach did flip-flops, and her legs felt like jelly as she scooted beside Brent, basking in his warm glow of love and affection, and she felt instantly bolstered by his presence.

  Not real. Not real.

  Hope’s heart pounded as every ounce of her being wished this wasn’t make believe.

  She stole a glance at Meredith, who shot her a panicked look, like she was having last minute doubts.

  But this was all too real, and it was too late to stop it.

  The bridesmaids looked so beautiful.

  Derrick and William looked awesome in their tuxedos, too.

  But no man on the scene compared with Brent.

  “Beloved guests,” the minister began. “Family and friends of the bride and groom, we’ve gathered here today on this gorgeous Saturday in June to unite Jackie Webb and Brent Albright in holy matrimony…”

  The ceremony proceeded with Derrick reading William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 116” and Meredith reciting the love poem “i carry your heart with me” by e. e. cummings, impressively from memory. During the exchange of vows, Hope’s voice warbled when she said, “I do.”

  Not real. Not real. Not real.

  The minister requested the rings, and Derrick took them from his pocket, handing the matching gold bands to Brent. He passed the larger one to Jackie and winked. “I love you,” he mouthed in a whisper, and Hope’s lips trembled.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered back, her head and her heart very nearly exploding from the painful truth. Because she did love him with her whole being, and at the moment her heart was breaking in two. Then, Brent slid the ring on her finger, promising to love her forever, and her heart shattered to bits.

  When it was her turn, she was crying so hard, she struggled to get out the words.

  Meredith stepped forward and handed her a delicate linen hanky, which she’d apparently had at the ready. Hope dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose so loudly it honked.

  There was muted laughter from the crowd, but it was good-natured.

  Everyone here was pulling for them. Rather, for Brent and Jackie.

  This last thought only made Hope cry harder, and Sally scrambled toward Grandmother Margaret, who held out a tissue from the first row. Sally quietly scuttled back to Hope, passing it over, and Hope gave her a grateful nod, swiping at her streaming tears.

  Finally, it was Hope’s turn to slide Brent’s ring on his finger, repeating her pledge, as the minister urged her along.

  “I give this ring.” She inhaled sharply. Not real. Not real. Not real. “…in token and pledge…” Ouch, this is hard. “…of my constant faith…” Make believe. Totally made up. “…and abiding…”

  She choked back a sob, and Brent encouragingly patted her hand. “Abiding…love,” she finished on a gasp.

  She shoved the ring on his finger with a determined push and looked up to find his dark eyes shimmering.

  “By the authority vested in me,” the minister began.

  Not real. Not real.

  “Before God and these witnesses…”

  My soul is doomed. Toast.

  “…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  The kindly older man with silver hair smiled at them both and said to Brent, “You may kiss your bride.” Then he winked at Hope. “And you may kiss your groom.”

  There is no way out of this nowwww.

  Brent pulled Hope into his arms, and the crowd hollered with their approval. Not real. Not… His mouth homed in on hers, and Hope’s legs went weak. …real.

  Then he kissed her really, really well, and the entire ceremony seemed about as real as it could get. Hope whimpered into his kiss as he held her closer, and the guests clapped and cheered, standing from their chairs.

  He pulled back and grinned. “We did it.”

  Hope stared back at him wide-eyed and forced a shaky smile.

  “Yeah,” she said on a dazed sigh. “We did.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hope and Brent had barely completed their recessional when a waiter glided over holding out a tray loaded with bubbling champagne flutes.

  Brent plucked one off the tray and handed it to Hope. “Sweetheart.”

  She took a huge sip as Brent did the same. The momentary reprieve ended when they became mobbed by wedding guests surrounding them—each wishing to offer up their heartiest congratulations.

  “Jackie.” Sally scurried toward her with open arms and pulled her into a hug. “Congrats. I’m so thrilled to have another sister-in-law.” Then she smiled and said sweetly, “Gorgeous ceremony. I hope you don’t mind, but I snapped a few candid pics and tagged your account on Instagram.”

  “What? Already?”

  “Only of the best parts,” Sally replied, grinning. Next, Parker squeezed his way forward, tugging along a blond man who lo
oked about his age, but with a tanned complexion and a chiseled face. The Albrights had said Gavin was ex-military, and his buff frame suggested that he kept in shape. “Jackie,” he said cordially. “I don’t believe you’ve met Gavin Tate.”

  Hope extended her free hand to shake his. “Gavin. Great to meet you.”

  “Welcome to the family.” His warm smile indicated he believed himself to be a part of it, and Hope understood why. “Congratulations on your wise choice.”

  “We believe Brent’s chosen wisely as well,” Parker said, and Hope gave him a hug.

  “Thank you,” she said as he hugged her back. Elsa snaked through the crowd to embrace her next, and Ava was right on her heels. Brent’s attention had been drawn off by the friendly group of aunts and uncles on Elsa’s side, so Hope introduced her mom.

  “This is my mother, Ava Webb,” she said to Gavin, who sported a handsome grin.

  “You hardly look old enough to be the mother of the bride,” he said smoothly.

  She preened like a big old peacock. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased.

  Gavin shook her hand. “Delighted.”

  Brent turned behind her, glancing over his shoulder. “Ah, there you are,” he said with a twinkle. “Come on over and meet my aunts and uncles.”

  Hope cast a wary look at her mom, hoping she wouldn’t get carried away. Ava soaked up attention from complimentary men like a dry sponge dunked in water. “I, er…sure,” she replied as her mom gave her a little wave. Then Brent hooked his arm through hers and began introducing her to the rest of the guests, starting with Elsa’s two sisters and their husbands.

  …

  Brent couldn’t believe how well the reception was going. Then again, his expert wife—the wedding planner—had been in charge of it. Brent’s mind drifted over the word wife again, and he couldn’t help but grin. What a wonderful word that was, and he’d be using it from here on out with Jackie. She was radiant in her bridal gown. It fit her just right, outlining her perfect figure, but it was her joyful spirit that shone the brightest. He’d honestly never seen her looking prettier. What a totally amazing week this had been, culminating with this life-altering occasion today. Married. Woo. It was still hard to believe the term applied to him.

  William walked over and patted his shoulder. Brent was taking a breather from socializing and had stepped back to observe the festivities on his grandparents’ back lawn. Wedding guests milled about, holding champagne or other refreshments, and everyone was chatting happily under the midday sun. Fortunately, the weather was mild. Not too warm and not too cool. With a full sun in the sky and a light breeze blowing, it felt just right.

  “So, how’s it feel?” William asked him, stepping closer.

  “Honestly?” Brent’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Pretty darn good.”

  William followed Brent’s gaze, perusing the lively party. “Some people say being married takes getting used to. But it doesn’t.” He shook his head and sipped his champagne. “Not really.”

  Brent chuckled. “Things sure seem to have worked out for you and Sofia.”

  “Yeah.” William’s eyes instantly went dreamy. Brent wondered if that’s how he looked, too, when he gazed at Jackie. Like a totally hopeless, lovesick puppy dog.

  “So tell me about Bermuda,” Derrick said, striding over to join his brothers. “Are you taking the shorts?”

  “Sure, Derrick. Yeah, the Bermuda ones. They’re down to my knees,” Brent joked.

  “Maybe the only shorts he’ll be wearing are those boxers you gave him.”

  “William,” Brent muttered in mock offense. “I’m scandalized.”

  “He is a married man.” Derrick motioned with his champagne flute. “He knows whereof he speaks.”

  “Oh yeah?” Brent said, razzing his little brother. “When’s your turn?”

  Derrick’s gaze happened to be on Meredith as she went prancing by, arm-in-arm with Sally, laughing and whispering something to her as they shot glances at Hope standing by the tent. “I’m sorry,” he murmured absentmindedly. “What did you say?”

  Brent and William raised their eyebrows at each other, and both guys started cackling.

  “Oh no,” Derrick said, obviously getting their drift. “No, no, and no.”

  “She’s very pretty,” William said in a reasonable fashion.

  “Not seeing anyone, either.” Brent grinned at Derrick. “From what I hear.”

  Derrick tried to blow them off by taking another sip of his drink. “And she calls herself a matchmaker,” he said, pretending that he was disgusted with the idea.

  William nudged him. “Maybe she just hasn’t found the right match.”

  …

  Hope felt like she’d scarcely seen Brent at all during the past hour, but Sofia told her not to worry. That was very typical during wedding receptions. The bride and groom were the stars of the day, and all the guests wanted to visit with them. There’d be plenty of time for privacy between them tonight, she’d said with wiggling eyebrows. Privacy was the one thing Hope didn’t want to contemplate enjoying with Brent right now. If things were different, she thought, watching him sadly as he crossed the lawn. But they’re not.

  Eleanor came to speak with Hope, telling her that it was lunchtime, and Hope was glad for the opportunity to sit for a while and slip out of her heels. Even if they did make her legs look dynamite, these shoes were killing her.

  Once everyone was seated with their food, the waitstaff circulated, refreshing drinks and serving ice water. After a short interlude while people got settled, the toasting began. Derrick stood first, extracting a folded piece of paper from his tuxedo jacket pocket, but Ava preempted him by shooting to her feet.

  “Oh, Derrick,” she shouted, waving her napkin. “One quick interruption if you don’t mind.”

  Hope’s pulse pounded. Ava wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

  Then her mom pulled a small boom box out from under the table, and Hope realized with horror that she was going to.

  Oooh, here she goes…

  “Uh. Mom.” Hope stood weakly, bracing herself against the table with her arms.

  “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” she said, glowing cheerfully. “Let this be my gift to you.” She nodded at Brent, who stared at her, gobsmacked. “To you and Brent.”

  All eyes watched expectantly as Ava turned on her music player, and a full orchestra broke into a swell, hitting dramatic peaks and valleys with each new chord. Ava touched her thumbs to her shoulders and shut her eyes in some apparent form of meditation. An instant later, she flung her arms wide as if figuratively embracing the room.

  Como una promesa, eres tú, eres tú

  Como una mañana de verano

  Meredith stood in shock as Ava belted out the lyrics in Spanish, sending Hope a questioning look, and Hope knew Meredith had her back. All she had to do was give a sign and Meredith would do whatever it took to remove Ava from the floor.

  “Wait,” Brent said in mild shock. “Is your mom actually singing ‘Eres Tú’?”

  “She’s not bad,” Grandpa Chad mumbled, and Hope sank back into her chair, stunned. Ava’s vocal skills had improved some since cousin’s Debbie’s wedding. Then she hit a crescendo, and Hope grimaced, deciding that they hadn’t improved all that much. She leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, massaging her forehead as the song went endlessly on and on. At least now she’d have an excuse for the fake headache she was going to tell Brent about later.

  And now, the refrain. Oh, ouch. Hope peered through her fingers, relieved to find all the champagne flutes still standing. Thank goodness her mom hadn’t shattered any glass.

  Brent soothingly rubbed her back between her stiff shoulder blades. “It’s really all right,” he said in a whisper. “It’s coming to an end soon.”

  And it would have, too. If Gavin
Tate hadn’t hollered out during the applause that ensued, demanding an encore.

  …

  Later that afternoon, the area under the tent with the twinkling lights was converted to a dance floor. Brent’s gaze washed over Hope as he held her in his arms and they had their first dance. “This is a great song. I’m glad we picked it.”

  Hope caught her breath, swept up in the fantasy of being his bride. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  They took another turn around the dance floor, with Brent leading her expertly in his arms. “You’re a very beautiful bride,” he told her.

  “And you’re a totally hot groom.”

  He chuckled at this, evidently pleased. “Maybe you’ll find out how hot later.”

  Her cheeks steamed when she found herself wishing that she could.

  But that was wrong.

  More than wrong.

  Twisted.

  “I know there’s still the bouquet toss,” he said.

  “And the cake. Uh, er…cupcakes.”

  “Yes, and those.” His eyes twinkled. “But, between now and then, maybe we can slip away?”

  “Oh, Brent. I don’t think…”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, his nose nudging hers. “Remember our coat closet?” he asked in a husky whisper.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice featherlight. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help wanting his kisses. They were so incredibly wonderful, after all.

  “How about we revisit it?” His lips brushed over hers, and Hope’s head spun.

  “I…I don’t kno—”

  He nibbled on her lip, and she murmured her assent without even meaning to.

  “Mmm-mmm.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” he said, holding her closer. “I know.”

  Then he led her around the dance floor one final time as their onlookers broke out in polite applause.

  Moments later, Brent tugged Hope along, pulling her by the hand. “Brent. Really, we shouldn’t. Can’t…”

  He raised a devilish eyebrow and steered her into the hall. “Oh yes, we—ack.”

  Brent froze with his hand on the doorknob and goggled into the darkened coat closet under the stairs, where Ava and Gavin were engaged in an amorous embrace.