“I don’t want tonight to end,” he whispered.
I looked into his eyes and smiled, truly wishing it wouldn’t.
“Me, either. But…”
He didn’t let me finish, grinning like he’d won the Lottery. “It’ll have to be my place,” he went on confidently as I shook my head, “because of the kids.”
“I hope they’re behaving for their Uncle Erik.”
Vince chuckled. “They’ll have played him for every Milk-Bone in the house and are probably pinning him to the sofa; Tyson loves Erik, but it makes him think he’s a lapdog and he’ll try to sit on his knee.”
I laughed at the image as warmth filled my chest.
The MC interrupted our moment by announcing that it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake.
We all turned to face the side of the room where the wedding cake stood resplendent on a hill of donuts in all its chocolately glory.
Cady and Rick picked up a shiny silver knife together to cut a slice through the cake as the wedding guests smiled, clapped and took photos.
“I’m not going to moosh this into Rick’s face,” Cady announced, “because good cake shouldn’t be wasted … and because I spent two hours getting my makeup done!”
I heartily approved—I hated mess.
“No cake mooshing?” Vince said sadly. “I love that part in American weddings.”
“You would,” I laughed. “But hasn’t there been enough of that already?”
We toasted the happy couple with more champagne, then to raucous cheers, Cady tossed her bouquet into the air. Several women leaped towards it, but Vince jumped higher, and being 6’4”, beat them all.
“The bouquet toss is for women only!” I giggled.
“Yeah, but I wanted you to have it,” Vince smiled, presenting me with Cady’s bouquet. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Yes, I’ll have to find a vase to put it in.”
Vince leaned closer. “It means you’re getting married next.”
“Hmm, we’ll see!”
As the evening reached its peak, with many couples getting hot and sweaty on the dancefloor, and Cady’s brother making out rather publicly with one of the celebrity guests, the MC announced that the bride and groom would be leaving.
It took twenty minutes to get all the guests down to the lobby and I lost Vince in the crowd.
But when I heard loud laughter and Cady swearing fit to be tied, I guessed that Vince had one last joke to play.
Yes, there was the bride and groom’s wedding vehicle, covered in white ribbons, rattling with cans and horseshoes … attached to a Pedicab that Vince was pedaling.
Rick gave him a stern look but couldn’t stop a smile from spilling out.
“No! No way and hell no!” Cady said emphatically. “I’m not getting in that thing, Vincent. Think again. Fast.”
“Go on!” he teased. “It’s brilliant fun. Rick loved it on our stag night, didn’t you, mate?”
Rick had been married eight hours and already knew better than to contradict Cady on something like this.
He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.
Vince sighed heavily, then stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loudly, dogs two blocks away started barking.
And pulling up to the curb was a gorgeous vintage Aston Martin, just like James Bond would drive, complete with wedding ribbons.
Rick’s eyes lit up and Cady sighed with happiness.
“Much better, Vince,” she smiled. “I’ll let you live after all.”
The happy couple turned to their guests, smiled, waved, hugged and kissed, then finally peeled themselves free to climb into the car.
“Love you!” I yelled at Cady.
She blew kisses out of the window as the car pulled away.
I looked at Vince and smiled. “That was a great idea.”
“The Pedicab or the Aston Martin?”
“Both!” I grinned. “Definitely inspired.”
I must have given the right answer because he kissed me soundly before escorting me back inside.
I would willingly have gone home then in a stupor of happy exhaustion, but part of the best man and maid of honor’s duty was to make sure the rest of the evening ran smoothly. Besides, I was also Cady’s wedding planner, so I felt responsible.
We went around talking to everyone, organizing taxis with Jenna, the Rainbow Room’s events coordinator, until there was no one left but us.
“One last dance?” Vince asked.
“The band went home,” I pointed out.
“But when I look at you, I hear music,” he smiled.
“That is such a cheesy line!”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” And he held out his hand. “May I have the extreme fookin’ pleasure of the last dance?” he said.
“Such sweet words,” I smiled, accepting his hand.
As the servers quietly cleared the tables, Vince and I clung together, swaying to a tune that no one but us could hear.
Then in a soft voice, Vince started to sing:
When I need you,
I just close my eyes and I’m with you,
And all that I so want to give you, babe,
Is only a heartbeat away.
I listened carefully to the moving lyrics but had to admit that I didn’t know the song.
Vince shrugged, his thoughts half lost in the past, half fixed in the present.
“It’s a song from the seventies by a British singer called Leo Sayer. Mum loved him.”
As Vince hummed the tune, the lights dimmed one by one, and we were left alone in the darkness, only the neon glow of Manhattan casting soft shadows across the empty dancefloor.
“Time to go,” Vince sighed.
“Thank you for a magical evening,” I said softly.
“I fooked up with the Irish dancing.”
“You were fantastic.”
“And I fooked up again by forgetting to bring my speech.”
“You were amazing and everybody loved what you said.”
“I fell in the chocolate fountain.”
“Highlight of the evening.”
“And I brought a lion.”
“Definitely memorable.”
“And I’m sorry that—”
I reached up to press my fingers over his lips. “Vince, it was perfect. You were perfect.”
He smiled, then kissed the palm of my hand. “Will you come home with me?”
“Ask me again after the court case.”
He frowned. “I thought that was all sorted. A plea bargain or something?”
That made me grimace. I really hadn’t meant to say anything to spoil tonight.
“That was the plan, yes, but the DA is hinting that he wants to take it to trial. He’s afraid vigilantes will copy you. Well, that’s what he says—I think he just wants some free publicity, and you’re very popular.”
“Well, that’s a bit shite.”
“More than a bit,” I agreed. “It’s not definite, but it’s a possibility that we have to be ready for.”
He rubbed his hand over his cheeks. “What if we don’t tell anyone you came home with me tonight?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Is that all you’re worried about?”
“Well, yeah,” he grinned. “What else?”
“That’s my Vince,” I smiled. “One track mind.”
“You’re really going to make me go home to my kids without their Mummy Gracie?”
I smiled as I stepped away. “I really am.”
“Wow, tough love. But I can wait.”
We rode the elevator in silence, the quiet that came with a promise for the future.
Vince let me take the first cab that arrived and kissed me sweetly.
“Look after this one,” he said to the driver. “She’s precious cargo.”
The driver grunted and didn’t reply, but I smiled up at Vince. “I’ll call you.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
> “Night, Vince. Kiss the kids for me!” but the driver was already pulling away and my words were lost in the New York night.
I arrived back to my empty apartment, already missing Vince, missing the dogs, missing our easy companionship and the electricity that had been sparking between us all evening.
With a sigh, I hung up my beautiful dress and put my two beautiful bouquets in vases, then cleaned off all my makeup.
I fell into bed with a smile on my face, then ground my teeth when I remembered that I hadn’t checked my messages; I hadn’t even looked at my phone all evening. I rummaged in the bottom of my tiny wedding purse and pulled it out. I was tagged in a ton of posts from Cady’s wedding, and I was already feeling nostalgic about it, but then I checked my voicemail.
There was a message from District Attorney Randolph Barclay—he was denying a plea bargain and taking us to trial. And the smug bastard added a postscript:
“The judge was able to find a space in her schedule to move the trial date forward as that’s in the public’s best interests to curb the spate of copycat vigilante behaviour that we’ve been experiencing across the State. I hope you’re ready, Counselor.”
I felt all the blood rush from my body.
I had one week to prepare for Vince’s trial.
Vince
“Free the Canine Crusader! No walls for four paws! Justice for the dogs’ best friend!”
Cady laughed as I chanted, then stopped abruptly when she saw the stern look on Grace’s stony face.
“Sorry,” she grimaced. “It was quite funny.”
“Hilarious,” Grace said stiffly. “Am I the only person here who understands that Vince could go to prison?”
“Sorry,” Cady muttered again.
“Eh, it’s not that bad,” I smiled at her. “They’re not going to send the Canine Crusader to the clink. They wouldn’t dare!”
Grace turned to me with a pained expression. “Vincent, this is what I’m trying to explain—they want to make an example of you. They want you to go to prison because they think it will stop the rash of copycat crimes that are taking place all along the eastern seaboard.”
“No one wants a nasty rash,” I winked at her.
She stood up with a frustrated huff. “Will you please take this seriously? I’m worried! You should be worried, too. And I really think it’s time to call in an experienced criminal lawyer—I’m a specialist in mergers and acquisitions, for Pete’s sake! I’ve never tried a criminal case in my life! I can’t…”
I shook my head, serious for once. “No, it has to be you, Gracie. No one knows me like you do; no one gets me like you do. It has to be you. And I know you’ll be brilliant.”
“I agree with Vince,” said Cady. “Words I never thought I’d utter. But he’s right. You do know him better than anyone, God help you. And you’re a great lawyer, Grace. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve been researching this since Vince was arrested and you’ve got a plan—don’t lose your balls now, hon.”
Grace’s face turned red. “This is not a joke!” she yelled, flailing her arms and losing her cool in a very un-Gracie way. “This is not a game where Vince wins a ‘get-out-of-jail-free card’. If a person is found guilty of burglary in the third degree, it’s a class D felony, punishable by one to seven years in prison and a fine up to $5,000.”
Her nostrils flared. She was really turning me on.
“Then there’s the charge of larceny,” she said with gritted teeth, chewing the words and spitting them out. “Larceny is when a person wrongfully takes, obtains or withholds property from its rightful owner, with the intent to deprive the owner of such property.”
“But they were rescue dogs,” I piped up. “They didn’t belong to no one.”
“They were the property of the shelter,” Grace gritted out. “If the loss to the shelter is worth less than $500, you might get away with a misdemeanor, while anything worth $500 or more is a felony.”
She sighed, and her voice became quieter.
“I’m confident that we’ll be able to dismiss the larceny charge on the technicality that you hadn’t left the building, so it’s supposition that you were planning to steal the dogs … even though you had six puppies in your pockets.”
“I wasn’t stealing them,” I insisted. “I was rehoming them, which is what the shelter was supposed to do anyway. And I can’t believe those tossers are pressing charges after everything I’ve done for them.”
“Yeah,” said Rick from the sofa where Tyson was sitting on him. “Tossers.”
“Cheers, mate!” I grinned at him.
Grace’s mouth twisted. “I know,” she said quietly. “I think they’ve been leaned on. I heard a rumor—completely unsubstantiated but probably true—that they’ve been threatened with closure on some B.S. zoning code. The DA is playing hardball. That’s why I’m so worried, Vince. They’re not going to play fair because they intend to find you guilty.”
“Bloody hell,” said Rick, summing up the situation for all of us.
For the first time since I’d been arrested a two months ago, I felt a nervous twitch in my gut. I still didn’t believe that I’d done anything wrong, but the law seemed to say otherwise. And I didn’t like to see Gracie looking so stressed either—I wanted to make her life easier, better, not worse. It was a kick up the arse to realize that I was fooking up her life … again.
“Will it be a trial by jury?” Cady asked.
Grace nodded uncertainly. “Yes. Vince had the option to be judged by a jury or by a judge. I thought that his popularity and, um, charm, would work in our favor. When we have jury selection, I’ll be asking who has pets, and I’ll try to select women … for obvious reasons…”
I had to grin at the look on her face when she said that.
“And you’re worried because…?” Cady prompted.
“Because Randolph Barclay will be asking the same questions and crossing out anyone who might look favorably on the Canine Crusader’s capers.”
“That sounds like a TV show,” I said, wondering if I could pitch the idea to a network.
Grace speared me with one of her sexy-as-fook glares.
“And my concern is,” she said sharply, ignoring me and speaking directly to Cady, “is that we’ll end up with a jury of twelve straight men who were bitten by dogs as a child and hate animals.”
We all fell silent as I contemplated my future wearing a prison suit and wondering if the arrows would make my arse look fat.
“Okay,” I said, defeated and deflated, “what’s the plan? I’m sure you have one.”
Grace nodded jerkily. “We’re going to rehearse every possible question and every possible answer, and you’re going to learn them off by heart so there’s no ad libbing. I’m going to write it all down, and Rick and Cady will practice with you.”
“Sounds good. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to think like a prosecutor—I’m going to find every precedent that could send you to jail … and I’m going to think about how to argue it out of court. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Sounds like fighting talk to me,” I grinned.
Grace stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’m only just getting started,” she said sternly. “No one messes with my boyfriend!”
“Boyfriend?” I repeated hopefully.
“When this case is over, you’re going to owe me breakfast, lunch and dinner fifty times over,” she said. “And I will collect. So as we’ll be doing all that, I think you’d better be my boyfriend, too, or people will talk,” she smirked.
I stood up to pull her into a hug and give her the kissing she so deserved, but she held up her hand like a traffic cop.
“No kissing until the case is over,” she insisted.
“But Gracie…”
“No!” she said firmly. “It’s too … distracting.”
I grinned at her. I really liked her being distracted by my kissing.
“But Gracie…”
<
br /> “No!” she yelled, burning me with her laser stare, so that I sat down again. “No kissing, no touching, no canoodling of any kind.”
Cady snorted in the background and rapidly turned it into a hacking cough as Grace gave her a good glaring at.
“That goes for you two, as well,” she said, pointing a finger at Cady and Rick. “While you’re here, you work on the case. The focus is on keeping Vince out of the dog pound. No mistakes, no excuses, and absolutely no kissing.”
“We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon,” Rick muttered.
“And your point is?” Gracie said stonily as Rick recoiled.
I waved my arm in the air.
“Yes, Vincent?”
“What about holding hands?”
“No.”
“What about a foot rub after a long day?”
“Certainly not.”
“Well, can I think about kissing you while I’m in the shower?”
Grace rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to work at my apartment. Cady, I’ll email the list of questions and answers later. Vincent, I expect you to be word perfect by tomorrow morning.” The she glowered at all of us. “We’re running out of time.”
Zeus jumped into my lap and Tap nuzzled my ankle, looking as worried as the rest of my friends.
After Grace left, all the energy went out of the room.
Grace
I was nervous. Actually, I was terrified. I’d researched the hell out of Vince’s case and knew that there was a good chance of dismissing the larceny charge, but I also knew that wasn’t enough. This trial wasn’t going to be won on points of law, it wasn’t even about justice: it was about the DA needing positive publicity to be re-elected—and using Vince to get it, ironic as that seemed. He wanted to be the DA who was ‘tough on crime; tough on the causes of crime’ with zero tolerance for pretty much everything. You’d think that wouldn’t go down well in hip NYC but he was winning a lot of votes.
So even though my defense had merit, I also knew that I was the weak link in Vince’s case: I simply didn’t have the charisma needed by a great trial lawyer. Vince’s lawyer needed to be liked and trusted by the jury, and I knew that I came over as cold and emotionless, and I couldn’t help that. If, for one second, I let my emotions rule me, I’d fall apart … because I cared too much.
The World According to Vince - A romantic comedy (Gym or Chocolate Book 2) Page 19