“He might not want to see me, have you thought about that?” she asked Poppy.
“Yes I have. And I wager that the odds on that are very, very low.”
Meaghan looked away from Poppy, heart jack hammering in her chest, wondering how it would be, to see Dean again. It felt like it had been ages.
Chapter 10
They knocked on Dean’s door and waited to see if anyone would open.
“What?” a hoarse voice snapped through the intercom after an interminable time.
“Can I come in?” Meaghan asked.
There was silence on the line for a long time.
“Meaghan?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, Dean?” she replied.
There was a hitch of breath on the line.
“Just a minute okay?” he said and then the door was open. Meaghan found herself taking the stairs three at a time, knees weak, heart tripping, head buzzing with adrenaline, hands shaking. She reached the top of the stairs and there he was, barefoot, clad in sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. He had a serious case of bed-head going on and the bags under his eyes could rival Louis Vuitton.
“Dean,” she whispered in disbelief. Yeah, she had been in a bad state too but outwardly she still bothered to comb her hair and change her clothes. She had to show up for work after all. Unlike Dean. She smirked as she looked him up and down.
“Lifestyles of the rich and famous, huh?” she said.
He just stared at her like she was speaking Urdu.
“What are you doing here Megs?” he asked.
Meaghan shrugged, “I came to talk to you. Your mother-“
“My mother? My mother what?” he demanded.
“Your mother seemed to think you might be in need of help or something,” she said.
Dean frowned, “And what? You came running?”
Meaghan shrugged, “Not really. I got a lift,” she said flippantly, not knowing why she was being that way.
“Well I hope the car’s waiting for you because you’re not needed here.” He snapped.
“Could have fooled me. You look like hell,” she said.
“Well, thank you Meaghan, you’re quite the princess yourself.”
Meaghan shrugged, “I’m not trying to antagonize you. Just…can we talk like two human beings?”
“We could, but I don’t see to what end,” Dean replied but he turned around and led the way to the living room anyway.
“So…how’ve you been?” Meaghan asked arms crossed.
Dean crossed his arms as well, “Fine. You?”
“I’ve been ‘fine’ as well. Started a book club with Bain and Danny.”
“That’s nice.”
“Wanna join?”
“Not particularly.”
“It might be fun.”
“Yeah. Root canals might be fun too.”
Meaghan frowned, “I thought you and Bain worked things out.”
“We did.”
“Well then?”
“It's not Bain I have a problem being in a book club with.”
“I thought you liked Danny.”
“I do.”
“Well then?”
Dean was silent.
“Me? I’m the problem?” Meaghan couldn’t help the incredulity.
“I’m not one for hanging out with my exes if I can possibly help it.”
Meaghan dropped her eyes, “Your mother came looking for me.”
“And?”
“And…that’s cause for hope isn’t it?”
“Hope for what?”
“That maybe this can work?”
“Oh. Now you want this to work?”
“I always wanted this to work!”
“Really? You could have fooled me.”
“Yeah, that’s coz you’re an idiot!”
“Oh I’m the idiot? Who was it who got suckered by a stylist?”
As they argued they’d moved closer and closer until they were shouting in each other’s faces.
“Low blow Wesson. That’s exactly why I left your bitter, vindictive world. I can’t deal with all that shit.”
“Okay then, but why did you leave me?” Dean asked and Meaghan could not deny the pain in his voice.
“I just didn’t see any other way,” Meaghan said with a helpless shrug.
“So why are you here…Meaghan?” Dean bit out.
Meaghan looked down at her hands, trying to find the words to tell him that he was everything to her, but she could not be the cause of discord in his family.
“You were my family Meaghan,” Dean said as if he’d heard her thoughts.
Meaghan held her hands out, “And you are mine,” she said. Dean took a step forward.
“So…why?”
Meaghan shook her head, “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said in a small voice.
“And now?”
“Now…I am just. I want to hold you and take you to the shower, clean you up, feed you, make you smile. I want to take care of you.”
“Why?”
There was a small silence in the room.
“Because…” Meaghan said at last.
Dean smiled, “Because…why?” he persisted.
“I love you Dean,” she said.
“I love you too Meaghan,” he replied.
“I guess that’s why.”
“You want to take care of me Meaghan?” he asked taking another step toward her.
“Yes,” Meaghan replied taking a step of her own.
“Marry me then,” Dean replied and then leaned in and kissed her.
*****
"You know what, Meaghan? If we weren't in the middle of this awkward situation with everyone, I'd totally marry you this week."
Dean wasn't sure what made him say it; maybe it had something to do with the eggnog with added brandy that he and Meaghan had been drinking for most of the evening, or the fact that he was feeling all happy and light-headed because it was nearly Christmas and he and Meaghan were sitting next to each other on a comfortable sofa, relaxing in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, the two of them taking a break from life for a few days to celebrate the holiday, complete with a Christmas tree and Christmas decorations, and another romantic Christmas movie just beginning on the TV.
Or maybe it was because Meaghan had already made Dean watch a chick flick with the usual clichéd story about how a couple-in-love had overcome all obstacles to finally make it down the aisle in time for Christmas, with his fiancée using the lame excuse that it was the only DVD that she could find in the cabin, and Meaghan had just spent at least half an hour laughing at Dean's eye rolling and groans at every tacky scene, before she started asking Dean if he'd ever seriously thought about marrying anyone before her. Dean knew she was just fishing.
Dean had looked from Meaghan to the walls of the cozy room they were sitting in, thinking about how perfect the whole scene was, how awesome it was that he was sitting next to the only person he'd ever been able to offer any kind of commitment to, the only person who he could really see himself spending the rest of his life with, and he had also felt a rush of affection as he watched Meaghan, whose hair was still damp after taking a shower, who was still a little drunk from the eggnog, looking all relaxed and happy wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and a slight flush on her cheeks, and the words had just slipped out before Dean even realized what he was saying.
He looked at Meaghan, who looked kind of taken aback by Dean's I'd-totally-marry-you-this-weekend comment, and also like she didn't know whether to find this funny, or ask a lot more questions that Dean didn't have the answer to, or make this into one of their intense bonding moments that Meaghan loved so much.
"Dude," Meaghan laughed, apparently settling on amusement as her reaction, to Dean's relief. "If we're eloping, then you're totally breaking the news to your mom!"
"Yeah right, Meaghan," Dean replied, unable to resist a challenge when he heard one. "You know that I’d never do that to you. Besides I already have the perfect wedding p
lanned. Designed to drive my mother crackers."
"Oh I’m sure it's super crazy, you being so wild and crazy n’ all," Meaghan shot back at him, a playful tone to her voice that Dean hadn't heard for weeks. "We both know how much you love all the little details." Meaghan nodded her head in the direction of the Christmas decorations in the cabin, which Dean had spent hours putting up, trying to get everything to look just right, wanting to give his bride to be the perfect holiday after so many months of crappiness.
"You'd write the most chick-flick-worthy vows ever, Meaghan," Dean grinned, enjoying the banter after too many weeks of fighting and strife. Although he was pretty certain that most relationships in his circle wouldn't get into playful arguments about their wedding. "And we both know that you'd be crying the whole time."
"As if you wouldn't be crying too, Dean," Meaghan mocked him with a roll of her eyes. "I can just picture you, trying to discreetly wipe your eyes, pretending that you had allergies, or that you had something in your eye-"
"You would so want to eat your typical rabbit food at the wedding reception," Dean jumped in, before Meaghan could hurt his manly pride any further. He tried his best to give a disgusted shudder at the thought of eating salad on his wedding day.
"Hey!" Meaghan responded, sounding indignant. "What would you rather? Celebrating a wedding at a diner, or at a bar, eating pie or steak all day and drinking beer all night…"
"What's wrong with pie and steak?" Dean asked, kind of liking the idea of going to a diner after a wedding ceremony, eating junk food and avoiding anything too formal, before spending the night partying at a bar. He could just imagine his mother’s face. He wondered if it was kind of weird that he was enjoying thinking about these details so much, that he was having so much fun discussing this with Meaghan. "And it'd be cool to go to a bar-we could get them to play some soft rock for our first dance…"
Meaghan's eyes widened a little, and she went quiet for a couple of seconds, and Dean wondered if he'd gone a little too far with that comment, instead of sticking to the script of joking and insulting each other through their banter; but then Meaghan grinned and nodded, and Dean knew that the game was still on.
"Yeah, Dean," she smirked, "maybe I'd even let you lead. We could end the night at some cheap motel just to stay with the theme…"
"Nuh-uh, Meaghan," Dean cut her off with a shake of his head, forgetting for a moment that this was all supposed to be a joke. "Forget the motel room; we'd be going back to our own house."
"We would?" Meaghan asked, sounding fascinated by this comment. Her expression was now a lot more serious. "But…why?"
Because we've only been in this cabin for a couple days, and I already want us to just stay somewhere like this for ever…somewhere like a home of our own.
"Because we'd be married, Meaghan," Dean chose to say instead. "And if we're married, then we should have a home of our own." It was almost terrifying, how Dean could suddenly picture the exact details of the house that he would buy for him and Meaghan, somewhere they could both fit perfectly, be happy and bring up a family.
Meaghan had a faraway look in her eyes, and Dean couldn't help wondering if Meaghan was imagining the exact same thing.
Then, the faraway look was replaced by a mischievous glint. "You're secretly an old-fashioned romantic, aren't you, Dean?" she laughed. "Anyway, if we had our own home to come back to after the wedding, you could carry me over the threshold."
Dean looked Meaghan up and down, taking in the curves and the substantial hips, the tiny waist and the straight shoulders. He thought he knew everything about Meaghan off by heart, but now, it was almost like he was looking at her for the first time. Or maybe he was just seeing Meaghan in a whole new light.
"Fine," Dean sighed, eventually, "I will carry you over the threshold, but you know that the second we got into the bedroom, you'd be all shy and nervous, and wanting me to take charge…"
"Why have I got to be the blushing virgin in this story?" Meaghan asked with folded arms, sounding kind of annoyed at the idea of it.
Dean knew that Meaghan fancied herself an independent woman but she was still his woman and she would just have to come to terms with that. Besides, when they’d met she had been a blushing virgin. Much as her memory failed her these days. He didn’t know why he wanted to go back there anyway…
Dean decided that maybe it was just some sick, twisted need to impose his own fantasy of having Meaghan needy and vulnerable and dependent on Dean their whole lives, so that he could indulge in his own desire to play his protective Neanderthal male role; a role that Meaghan rarely let Dean act out now.
"Because you'd like it, having me take care of you," Dean tried as a response, deciding that he might as well go all out with his comebacks now, even if there was no way that Meaghan would agree. "Come on, Meaghan," he continued to mock, "don't even try to tell me that you wouldn't want me to light candles in the room and scatter red rose petals on the bed…"
He stopped talking when he noticed that Meaghan was blushing, and apparently trying her best to hide her face behind her hair, and cover her face with her hands, as though she really didn't want Dean to see her reaction. As though, maybe, Dean had unintentionally hit the nail right on the head.
He wanted to ask Meaghan about what was going on, what she was thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he was suddenly thinking about Meaghan being naked underneath him on a king-sized bed, looking up at Dean with a look of total trust and devotion, the two of them married, committed, bonded for life, whatever they wanted to call it, everything he ever wanted and everything he almost lost forever.
"Anyway, it'd be your first time with in a marriage bed, s'far as I know," he continued, after a tense silence that lasted a little too long. "So I guess you would be like a virgin…kind of."
At Meaghan's shocked expression, Dean felt his own cheeks flushing, realizing what he'd just unintentionally given away about himself, thinking that maybe he'd already given too much away in this conversation, that the discussion had got too intense, too serious, too…close to home - on Dean's part, anyway, even though he was pretty sure he hadn't thought about any of this before tonight. Meaghan went quiet, a little too quiet, looking deep in thought, and an invisible tension set in between the two of them. Lost in the uncomfortable silence, Dean took the time to really think about it all.
He could picture it all, as real as if it had actually happened. The two of them in a church, Meaghan standing opposite him, the two of them making their emotional vows, promising to be together for ever, just like Dean had always wanted, Meaghan crying, Dean pretending not to cry.
Then he pictured them having their wedding breakfast at a typical diner, Meaghan eating salad, Dean eating pie, Meaghan rolling her eyes affectionately with a that's-my-husband expression as the waitresses brought more and more food over for Dean, the two of them heading to a bar in the evening to continue celebrating, drinking a few beers, Meaghan dragging Dean up to dance. His mother having apoplexy in the background…
Then, finally, he pictured them arriving at their new home, Meaghan crying all over again, as his strong, steady arms picked her up, Dean complaining, but secretly loving the fact that he could hold Meaghan, protect her, carry her to their new bedroom, where Meaghan would laugh at the candles and the rose petals, but she would also look kind of emotional, and Dean would kiss her, softly, wanting to keep that innocent, happy look on Meaghan's face for the rest of their lives.
As the images played in his mind, Dean realized something. It might have started out as a joke of a conversation, the story might be more tacky than the chick flick that he and Meaghan had just watched, the fantasy might be kind of impossible in reality-there was no way they were escaping the kind of wedding Dean Wesson was expected to have -but, in spite of all that, and in spite of everything else in the universe that seemed to conspire against them, Dean wanted it. He wanted all of it. Even if they never had a real ceremony or officially signed any marriage docum
ents. He wanted Meaghan. For better or for worse. For ever.
He almost couldn't believe that he was only just working all of this out right now, as it seemed so obvious, when he thought about it, that Meaghan had always been so much more than just a girlfriend, and that no woman would ever compare to a soul mate. And it wasn't like they didn't already act like a married couple most of the time anyway.
"Dean?" Meaghan muttered, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"I..I'd want the flowers to be white, instead of red. Just in case you were ever gonna, uh, you know..."
As Meaghan blushed, Dean couldn't help grinning like Christmas had come early.
"Meaghan?"
"Yeah, Dean?"
"You are such a sap."
*****
It took months of planning and endless headaches. It was finally here though. The wedding of her dreams.
The headaches weren’t quite over yet though.
She had already received her something new, something old, and something borrowed. Her maid of honor had forgotten the something blue though and was frantically looking for an item to be used. Finally a suitable item was found, a blue beret.
As she looked in her full length mirror, smiling at the reflection of a young woman who had long poufy hair framing a heart shaped face and a slim body hugged by a delicate wedding dress, she felt like a princess. It was a wonderful feeling.
She spun around, trying to look at her image from all angles.
One of her bridesmaids laughed madly. “You look beautiful sweetie. Your soon to be husband won’t know what hit him.”
When she was finally walking down the aisle, after much anticipation, her eyes sought her almost husband’s. His green eyes were sparkling as they gazed upon her. She took her time to drink him in as she floated down the aisle, feeling all of the eyes on her. He looked quite dashing in his tuxedo with a smile that showed off his perfect teeth.
Her heart hammered as he took her hand. Her mother kissed her cheek, but she barely acknowledged the gesture, all of her attention focused on her man.
They said their ‘I do’s’ and before she knew it, they were kissing to the loud applause of their family and friends.
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