Hitched

by Dawn Rae Miller

  He jumps up and grabs the phone from my hand. The picture stares up at him.

  “She…she grabbed my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. It was so fast, Elle. It was over before I knew what was happening.”

  “So why is your arm wrapped around her?” Snot bubbles in my nose. I don’t want to be one of those crazy women who always accuse their significant other of things. I don’t. But I have photographic evidence.

  “Let me see that,” Brady says, and Fletch flips him the phone. “Oh, Ellie. You can’t be mad about this. You can’t. Calista is clearly pulling him in.”

  “Even if that’s true, why were you so close to her? Your faces didn’t just randomly meet up.” As I say this, I watch Fletch’s reaction. It shifts from horror to anger and back to horror.

  “We were leaving. I was trying to be gentlemanly and pulled out her chair. Before I could stop her, she turned and pulled me into that kiss.”

  I sigh. I have to make a decision. Either I trust Fletch, or I don’t. My heart is telling me to believe his story, but my head is calling me a moron. A gullible moron.

  “Please don’t lie to me,” I say. Tears run down my face. “If you don’t want to go through with the wedding, I’ll understand. It’s happening so fast. There, I’m giving you an out. If you want to be with Calista, just tell me.”

  Fletch grabs both my hands. “I don’t want an out. I want to marry you.” He wipes my tears away. “Now that I have you back in my life, I can’t imagine it without you.”

  “So the kiss?”

  “That was all Calista and staged for the photographers. Most likely because she knew it would get to you.” He kisses my hands. “Don’t let her ruin our day.”

  I sink to my knees in the sand. Brady’s large hands reach for me and pull me closer to him. I rest my head on his chest. “Imagine if a photographer caught us like this? It would be front page news as you cheating on Fletch.”

  I blink my eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears that threatens to break loose. What he’s saying makes sense. How many times has Brady kissed my forehead and wrapped me up in a bear hug?

  “Are you sure that’s all it was?” I ask Fletch.

  “Positive.”

  “Ellie, do you think I’d let you marry this loser if I thought for a minute he was interested in Cal?” Brady asks.

  “No.”

  “Can we be friends again?” Fletch says, kneeling down next to Brady and me.

  “Yes.” I wipe my face on my cardigan.

  “Good. Because it’s almost midnight, and I hear it’s bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day,” Fletch says.

  I stand up, and the cool night air sends a shiver through my body. Fletch jumps up next to me, and his hands reach around the back of my neck and play with my hair. When he kisses me, I experience a delicious sense of weightlessness. Nothing matters except Fletch, me, and this very moment.

  “I love you,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine.

  “Love you, too.”

  Part Four: SUNDAY

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  With one arm dangling down the side of the bed, I flutter my eyes open and turn my head so my cheek rests in the pile of pillows. The morning light is too harsh, and I close my eyes again.

  I’m so not a morning person.

  But then a switch goes off in my brain, and I leap from the bed. Today’s my wedding day. And Dad’s coming soon. The blue numbers of the clock swim before my eyes, and I squint. Quarter after ten! How’d I sleep that long? Why hasn’t anyone come to wake me up?

  I head to the shower, eager to get the day started. Only five hours until Fletch and I are married. Five hours. My stomach flips and flops, and I’m not sure if it’s from nerves or excitement.

  Warm water hits me square in the chest, and I crank up the handle. Not that I want to scald myself, but I like hot showers. Like really, really hot. I scrub every part of myself, and shave my legs and armpits. My nether region is still sore, so I avoid that area. Once I’m shampooed, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. A fluffy white towel waits for me.

  I dry off, then wrap my hair into a turban. Paige will probably kill me if I put any make-up on, so I let down my long hair and begin detangling it with a wide-tooth comb. If I want to wear my hair loose and wavy, I need to let it dry more and then twist it into a bun.

  Good thing I have five hours.

  “Ellie? Are you in there?” Paige bangs on my door. “Are you awake?”

  I tighten the towel around my torso and fling the door open. “I am now.”

  “Oh, good.” Paige barrels past me. “I didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep, but your dad called Fletch, and he’s nearly here. Oh, and you’re totally going to miss breakfast. Although they would probably make something for you. Since you’re the bride and all.” She pauses and flicks her eyes over me. “At least you showered. That’s one step further than I expected.”

  “Paige,” I say. “Slow down. I’ve got this under control.”

  “But we have to choreograph when you’ll be downstairs and when Fletch will be. Can’t have the two of you bumping into each other.”

  “Do you really believe in all that?”

  “Brady saw Sophie and look how that ended up,” Paige rummages through my closet.

  “Like a freakin’ miracle. He could have ended up married to a lying schemer,” I say.

  Paige pulls out my last clean sundress and holds it up. “This is really pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  She tosses it at me. “Now get dressed.”

  From the way she’s crossing her arms, it’s as if she were my bodyguard. Or jailor. Take your pick.

  I pull up my panties and fasten my bra before stepping into my dress.

  “Here, let me,” Paige says, zipping me up. “Breakfast?”

  “Please. I’m starving.”

  “Okay, but don’t eat too much. You don’t want to be bloated in your wedding dress.” She whips out her cellphone and punches in a number.

  “Brady,” she says. “Ellie’s awake and ready for breakfast. Can you clear Fletch out?” She nods along for a minute before saying, “That’s great. Just let me know when you get back.”

  I raise my eyebrows, and she waves me off.

  When she finally clicks off, Paige says, “They’re out running some errands, so you’re free to wander around the house.”

  “And when they’re home, am I confined to my room?”

  “Something like that.” When I begin to protest, she adds, “Do you really want to hang out with Jennifer Colson? Would’t you rather hide away from her until the last possible minute?”

  I clench my jaw. Seeing Fletch’s mom is way low on my list of things to do today. In fact, I’m worried she flew out just to stop the wedding. “Let her hang out with Calista. The two of them can discuss how I’m a horrible choice of a wife for Fletch.”

  “Exactly.”

  I open my bedroom door, and Paige follows me down the stairs. There isn’t any food laid out in the dining room, and I turn to Paige. “Where is everything?”

  “Have a seat. I’ll have the cook make you something.”

  “Can I have salmon, a bagel and cream cheese, and some capers.”

  “Do you ever eat anything else?” Paige says.

  I shrug. “Sometimes I’ll add in a hardboiled egg.”

  “What about cereal? Or an omelet?”

  “If they don’t have salmon, I’ll take some fresh fruit.”

  “Ellie, you do know this isn’t a hotel, right?”

  I look around the room in mock surprise. “You’re just now telling me?”

  Paige snorts and disappears into the kitchen.

  Suddenly, I feel very much alone. Outside, workers hustle about. What they’re doing, I’m unsure, but there seems to be some sort of method to the madness. Of the three pavilions, only two remain - the center, large one, and a smaller side one. Makes sense they’d be tearing the pavilions down given our wedding g
uest list numbers around ten.

  My wedding. I never in a million years expected something like this to happen. I mean, are you kidding me? Am I really marrying Fletch today? I pinch my thigh just to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  And then last night barrels into me. The image of Fletch and Calista kissing, the burning hot rage I felt, the complete sense of loss. And after all that, Fletch’s kiss, reassuring me.

  Am I too gullible, or is Fletch really that trustworthy?

  I’m going to go with the latter.

  Paige bursts out of the kitchen carrying two plates and balancing a bowl on one of them. “Breakfast,” she says with a flourish. “Is served.”

  She sets everything down before me. Smoked salmon, a toasted bagel with cream cheese spread on it, a bowl of fruit, and a hardboiled egg.

  “Hopefully this is to your liking, you bridezilla, you.”

  My jaw drops open. “Bridezilla? You can’t be serious.”

  Paige tosses her head back and laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a mellow bride.”

  “I wasn’t mellow last night. I laid in to Fletch over the TMZ photos of him and Calista kissing.”

  My friend bites the corner of her lip. “Did he have a good reason? Do you believe him?”

  “I have to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to marry him.”

  Paige pulls out a chair and sits next to me. “You know she’s always going to be there. You can’t get Calista out of Fletch’s life completely. She’ll be there in pictures, in videos, in his memory. She’s always been part of his life.”

  As much as Paige’s words hurt, I know they’re true. Even if we have the most amazing marriage in the history of marriages, Calista will always be waiting for the slightest crack. She’ll swoop in if she gets any sense that things are wrong.

  “Sweetheart?”

  I turn around in my seat. “Dad!” I jump up and launch myself into my his arms.

  “That’s some reception,” Dad says, hugging me close and smoothing my hair. “How’s my girl holding up?”

  “She’s Miss Calm,” Paige says. “It’s eerie. She should be bouncing around like a maniac, but instead, she’s sitting here nibbling on breakfast.”

  “Ellie has always been steady and calm.”

  “That she has.” Paige clucks her tongue at me. “But there’s a difference between being calm and being psychotically calm. I fear she’s gone the psycho route.”

  Dad laughs before releasing me. “Everything okay, Elle?”

  I nod. “I’m a little nervous about seeing Mrs. Colson, but other than that, I’m fine.” I leave out my jitters because, really, who wants to hear about them?

  “Where are you having the ceremony?” Dad asks.

  “This way.” I leave my plate on the table. Someone will come along and clean it up, as they have been all weekend. Dad, Paige, and I wind our way outside, and coming around the corner, I gasp. Only the smaller pavilion remains, and workers are busy setting up a stage and stringing lights from the beams holding up the structure. Four tables rim the dance floor. Right now, there are no table clothes or chairs, but it looks amazing.

  “Paige, is this all Fletch?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. My mission has been to keep you occupied. I know nothing about the set-up or what Fletch and Calista have planned.”

  Calista again. Damn it. Why won’t she just go away? She has to know she’s not wanted.

  Dad, Paige, and I make our way to the sandy beach. A small canopy covered in flowers is set-up overlooking the water, and only two rows of chairs remain. More flowers decorate the inner chairs lining the make-shift aisle.

  It’s perfect.

  Dad juts his chin out toward the water. “What’s with all the flotilla?”

  I sigh. “Paparazzi most likely.”

  Dad lets out a low whistle. “You ready for this, Elle?”

  A few hours ago, I would have probably said ‘no.’ But the farther away I get from my panic attack, the more comfortable I’m getting with the idea of being Mrs. Fletch Colson, and all the craziness being so brings with it.

  “Ready as I can be, Dad.”

  “Well, things look very pretty. Fletch has done a great job.” His head swivels around. “Speaking of Fletch, where is he?”

  Paige steps forward. “Hopefully, far away. It’s bad luck for them to see each other before the wedding.”

  Dad laughs. “That may be true, but I’d like to see my future son-in-law and talk to him about a few things.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. “Dad,” I whine. “Don’t scare him away.”

  “Nothing of the sort,” Dad says. “I just need to speak with him.”

  I grit my teeth and look at Paige. “Do you know where they are?”

  “Reid texted that they were at the airport picking up Mrs. Colson.”

  My stomach drops. I’ve made peace with paparazzi and that my life will be gossip-feed fodder for a while. But I haven’t grown comfortable with the thought of Mrs. Colson - Jenn, as Fletch insists I call her. In fact, the thought of seeing her has me downright frightened.

  “When are they getting back?” I ask.

  Paige’s fingers fly over her phone’s screen. She waits for a second, then turns to me and says, “In about thirty minutes.”

  Shit. I didn’t realize it was that late.

  I was worried that I’d spend most of today sitting around twiddling my thumbs, but time is getting away from me. “When do we need to start getting ready?”

  Paige eyes me up and down. “Around one? I mean, you’re hair is basically done, all you need is make up, but the photographer is going to want to get pictures before, and all that.”

  I nod. It all seems surreal. My dad is here, I’m going to have to prep for photographs, and the pavilion is coming together. Suddenly, all the nervous energy I’ve been holding onto erupts, and I jump up and down.

  “This is really happening, isn’t it?” I say, smiling.

  “It is,” Dad answers.

  “It’s going to be perfect,” Paige says. “And romantic.” She checks her phone. “And now it’s time to get you upstairs and ready to go. The boys are on their way back.”

  I gulp. Mrs. Colson will be with them. I really hope she doesn’t hate me and will be supportive of our marriage. I mean, I know I’m not Calista, but I’m sure I can learn what I need to know. After all, how hard can wearing a ball gown and schmoozing with people be?

  “Elle, if you’re okay with it, I’m going to wait for the boys in the living room. I don’t want to get in the way of your preparations.”

  “That’s fine, Dad.”

  As we walk back to the house, I spot Calista talking to some of the workers. Who knows if she’s secretly plotting to overthrow my wedding, but so far, she’s proved to be very helpful.

  Paige holds the door open for me, but I keep my eyes fixed on Calista. When she lifts her head, she sees me. Neither of us acknowledge the other which seems appropriate.

  “C’mon, Ellie,” Paige says, pushing me through the door. “We need to get you ready for photos.” She stops abruptly. “Mr. Jacobs, what are you wearing? We’ll need you for pictures, too.”

  “I brought my best suit,” Dad says laughing. “Don’t worry, I won’t escort my baby down the aisle looking like a hobo.”

  Paige’s mouth drops open. “No. I didn’t mean-“

  “It’s okay, Paige. I knew what you meant. I’m just having some fun.”

  As if on cue, the photographer walks into the room. “Ellie,” he exclaims. “Just the person I was looking for. Did you want me to photograph you getting ready?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes,” Paige says. “Yes, she does. Ellie wants the full bridal package.”

  I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like a lot. Or another of Paige’s waxing ideas.

  “All right, then,” the photographer says. “Let’s get started.”

  “Let’s,” I say.

  Cha
pter Twenty-Four

  “Ellie, turn this way.”

  I swivel my head toward the photographer. “Like this?”

  “Perfect.”

  Paige stands next to me with a make-up brush poised just above my eye-level. So far, she’s slathered foundation on my face, and put primer on my eyelids.

  She’s assured me I won’t look like a clown, but how can I not when I’m wearing this much make-up.

  My hair is still up and pulled back into a bun. I touch it gently, testing how dry it is. For the loose waves to work, my hair needs to be all-the-way dry.

  “Give me your face, Ellie,” Paige says. “Because if we don’t hurry, we won’t be done in time for the wedding.”

  I close my eyes, so Paige can smudge eyeshadow all over them. The brush feathers across my lids, followed by another, more prickly one.

  “Ow,” I say. “That one hurts.”

  “It’s a blending brush.” She keeps rubbing it into my eye crease. “Remember, beauty sometimes hurts.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything beautiful about…” The male photographer is in the room. “About what you had me do last night.”

  Paige laughs. “Really, Ellie, you can’t still be upset or sore?”

  “I’m not sore.”

  Paige whips out a tube of something. “Liquid liner,” she says. “So your eyes smolder.”

  I try not to laugh. I’m so not the smoldering type.

  I close my eyes again and hear the clicking of the camera documenting every moment of me getting ready.

  “So,” Paige says. “Did you hear what Sophie said to Brady?”

  I keep my head still. “How could I? I’ve been on lock down.”

  “Well, when I went to get the make-up, I saw Reid in the hallway.”

  “And you managed to not jump him. Impressive.” I tease.

  Paige continues lining my eyes with her steady hand. “Any way, Reid told me that Brady told him that Sophie wants to continue on with the engagement. Or at the very least the relationship.”

  “No,” I say flicking my eyes wide open. Paige yanks her hand back. “No way in hell am I letting him do either one of those.”

  “Tell me what you really think, Ellie.” Paige wrinkles up her nose and laughs. “But you have nothing to worry about. Fletch and Reid talked sense into him.”