“You are too smart for the likes of me, Nilly girl.”
Tickling her, she giggled and swatted his hand away. “Stop it, Daddy. You are going to ruin my dress.”
“Well we can’t have that. You look beautiful—like a queen about to attend the royal ball.”
Nil blushed adorably, reverting to the five-year-old she was. I wanted to pinch her cheeks but refrained. She hated when I did that. A glance at the clock showed that guests would be arriving in fifteen minutes.
“What else do we have to do?” I questioned Luke.
He got to his feet and brushed imaginary flecks of dirt off his trouser pants. “You, nothing. Go rest those weary feet and I’ll make you a cocktail.”
My fingers pinched the moth bitten sweatshirt off my chest. Yoga pants and a sloppy ponytail completed the bag lady look. My mother would faint in horror if she showed up and saw me like this. Not to mention, I would faint in embarrassment. The hostess had an image to maintain.
I crooked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to go change.”
“Why? You look stunning.”
“I appreciate your kindness, but that is a blatant lie.”
“It’s not a lie, Mommy,” Nil chimed in. “You look like Cinderella before her fairy godmother appeared.”
Five year olds have the unique ability to roll an insult and a compliment into one. Nil blinked innocently up at me. Kissing her forehead, I walked past Luke to our master bathroom, a grander name than it warranted. We had plans to move to a bigger home but when push came to shove, nostalgia gripped my heart. Nil and I had built a plethora of memories under this terra cotta roof. Late nights soothing our tears, dance parties in the living room, rug burned knees and joy—so much joy that it overshadowed our darkest days. I wanted to weave Luke and our unborn child into the tapestry of our past, not erase it and start over.
Hot water pulsed from the showerhead. Closing the door, steam enveloped the stall. A long luxurious shower sounded like heaven, but with time restraints, that wasn’t feasible. With my head tipped backwards, I washed the shampoo out of my hair and sung “The Price is Right” theme song softly under my breath. A life long member of the insomniacs club, Luke had decided to join the struggle with me. Lately, our late night TV shows of choice were old eighties game shows. We made popcorn and whispered the answers to the questions. When one of us got an answer wrong, the other had to shed an item of clothing. So far, the nights had ended with me shivering bare-ass naked while Luke remained clothed. Nonetheless, I couldn’t complain. He was notorious for rewarding me handsomely even though I lose. .
The bathroom door banged opened, as did my eyes. “Hello?”
“Are you clean yet?”
“Camille?”
We hadn’t seen each other since the day I found out I was pregnant. You could blame it on the fact we’d both been busy, but the real reason dived deeper than that.
“The one and only,” she responded. “Now hurry up and get your ass moving.”
I stilled. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”
Although the fogged glass prevented a clear view to where she stood, I imagined her hip cocked to the side, attitude leaking from her pores.
Ignoring my question, she spoke. “There is a bathrobe on the counter. We’ll meet you in your bedroom in two minutes.”
The door slammed shut. Camille’s use of ‘we’ piqued my curiosity. We? Her and Nil? The stream sputtered to a drip as I jerked the handle to the left. Squeezing the excess water from my hair, I stepped onto the black and white checkered floor. My silk bathrobe wasn’t on the counter; it was bunched and left on the top of the closed toilet lid. A gasp of distress left my lips. The bathrobe had been a gift from my father when he traveled to Vietnam. It held tremendous sentimental value. I swiped it off the offending surface and hung it on a hook. Wrapping my hair into a turban, the silk material of the robe whispered against my skin. I tugged at the sash to double check there wouldn’t be any inappropriate flashes of skin.
“You are as slow as molasses, Marlene. Jesus,” Camille whined from the other room.
I practically yanked the doorknob off as my hand whipped open the door. “I have had just about enough with your bossy, controlling….”
My rant died in my throat when three pairs of eyes landed on my face. One familiar, the other two strangers. Camille, grinning like a woman with a secret, shoved me into a chair facing my full-length mirror.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “Sit still and let the nice women beautify you.”
I couldn’t believe Luke had hired a team to spoil me for a run of the mill party. His generosity knew no bounds and while beyond grateful, it was unnecessary. The money could have gone toward a new crib for our baby.
“Camille, this is silly. I can do my own makeup and hair,” I protested.
“It’s your special day.”
Grad school had officially stolen the last of her marbles. “What are you talking about?”
“You are getting married today.”
“WHAT?!” I jumped into the air as if my bum had caught fire. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
Camille signaled me to lower my voice.
The women's eyes grew wide while they backed into a corner, a safe ten feet between them and me.
My heart thrummed widely. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my hands grew damp. I couldn’t get married today. That wasn’t the plan. Luke and I were supposed to get married at my grandmother’s barn and sashay down an aisle strewn with rose petals while our song played in the background. Ten pies were in my freezer for the dessert table.
“What the hell am I going to do with TEN pies?” While that question was supposed to stay in head, it popped out of my mouth instead. Because, seriously, what hell does one person do with ten pies?
“Sweetie, you need to calm yourself before I can explain anything,” Camille said in her best therapist voice.
“How can I be calm? My jackass fiancé sprung this on me. It’s déjà vu of his concert proposal in front of a thousand people and you know what my answer was?”
“No?”
I threw my hands in the air. “No! Why didn’t he learn his lesson that I hate surprises?”
Camille ushered the two women out of the room. Once we were alone, she steered me by the shoulders to my bed. Sitting on the edge, we sat in silence while I collected my racing thoughts.
“Do I have permission to speak?” she asked after a minute passed.
“Sure.”
“Honey, your fiancé isn’t a jackass. He did this because you are pregnant, stressed to your limit and wanted to turn this affair into something you can both look back on with fond memories.”
“He could have just done the dishes for a week,” I mumbled.
Camille gave me a searching sideways glance. “Are we talking about the same man? Because Luke doesn’t think small, he thinks on a grand scale.”
My pulse began to slow. Back when Luke and I were in the early stages of dating, he would do outlandish acts to win my attention. One night, he’d bribed the night security guard at an art gallery to let us in after hours. My favorite artist had a showing there and he wanted me to have whole place to myself so that I could savor each painting without distraction. That was the night I knew there would be nobody else after Luke Anderson.
With her elbow, Camille nudged my side. “I see a smile.”
“Maybe a little one.”
“Does that mean you are warming up to the idea?”
I did an inner check of my emotions. The panic had abided and given way to a trusting calmness. How Luke and I tied the knot wasn’t important. A huge wedding never sounded that appealing anyways. Somehow, he’d tapped inside those hidden doubts and revealed my true desire. An evening celebrating our never-ending love for each other while our closest friends and family looked on. No bullshit, no drama and no planning. I could simply enjoy.
“Yes,” I said confidently. “I’m one hundred percent on board.”
“Good because we have thirty minutes before we have to be at Norma Jean’s.”
“I thought we were having the ceremony here.”
Camille raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Where? Your living room or that patch of grass you call a yard?”
“You love this house.”
She rose from the bed and tugged me to my feet. “I do love this house, but Norma Jean’s is your third baby and has an open dining room with a wood burning fireplace.”
“True, but it’s not even completed yet. Last time I was there, the floors hadn’t been refinished.”
“And when was that?”
“About a week ago,” I guessed.
“A lot can be done in a week, Marlene,” Camille said. “Now go, sit, and behave yourself.”
Complying with her orders, the two women reentered the room.
I flashed them a sheepish smile. “Sorry, my future husband brings my crazy to the surface.”
The woman with the blonde-streaked hair spoke. “It’s not true love if they don’t. My name is Sandy and the genius with the makeup brushes is Cindy.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
“Back at ya,” they drawled.
Sandy picked a wet lock of my hair between her fingers. Our gazes met in the mirror. “How do you want it styled?”
“You are asking the wrong person,” Camille laughed. “Marlene doesn’t have time to fuss with her hair.”
“It’s true,” I complied. “It’s a good morning if I have both socks on my feet.”
“Ok, then. What does your dress look like? We can pick a style based off that,” Sandy glanced around my bedroom, presumably to find said dress.
Camille solved the mystery. “It’s in the basement. I’ll go fetch it.”
“Thanks.”
I still couldn’t wrap my head around how Luke had managed to orchestrate a wedding without my knowledge. We were together nearly twenty-four hours a day. Furthermore, the catering, the flowers, the venue, it all had to be changed, which meant my grandmother and mother were also in on it. Praise the angels above, they’d actually kept a secret. As if they’d been summoned, a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” I called.
My mom and grandmother bustled into my cramped bedroom. Nil trailed in after them, looking adorable in a pale pink flower girl dress. A red rose hair wreath sat daintily on the crown of her head. My eyes welled with tears. This was really happening. Today we would officially become a family.
My grandmother handed me a sleeve of tissues. “I figured you would need them at some point.”
I tugged a baby soft tissue free and dabbed my lower lash line. “You were right, like always. How long have you known about this?”
“Three weeks.”
Glancing at my mom, her mouth crinkled into a smile. “We wanted to tell you, but we swore to Luke we wouldn’t.”
“He also bribed us with an unlimited amount of baby kisses when your precious newborn arrives,” my grandmother said.
Luke had witnessed how thrilled they were with the news, especially my mother who immediately hopped on the Internet to shop for baby clothes. Being the smart man he was, he’d used that knowledge to his benefit.
I barked out a watery laugh. “I’ll make sure that promise is kept.”
Climbing into my lap, Nil bounced with restless energy. The movement made her crown tilt askew. I reached up and fixed it for her.
“Mommy, Daddy said there will be dessert and since it’s a special night, I can have it before dinner!” she declared.
My arms circled her waist, hugging her against my chest. She wiggled in my grasp, desperate to get free. Outside the door, the low murmur of children giggling could be heard.
“Are Misty’s kids here?” I questioned my mom and grandmother.
Misty, my cousin, and her two kids, Sissy and Jack, were also referred to as whirling menaces. Whenever they were reunited with Nil, they sucked her into trouble she wouldn’t normally get in. For example, drawing on the walls with bright red crayon. I had to smear mayonnaise on the marks, which made my house smell like a sandwich for a week. Nil slid to her feet and sprinted back to her cousins.
“Don’t ruin your dress!” I yelled after her.
My plea fell on deaf ears. She had fun on her mind and nothing would stop that. An image of her dress getting ruined by an “accidental” shove into a mud puddle caused my shoulders to tense.
My grandmother saw my pinched expression. “Relax, darling. You are not a mother today, you are a bride.” She glanced toward the hallway. “Or you will be once Camille shows up. Where is she?”
“Good question,” I muttered.
She’d been gone for a while, at least fifteen minutes. I hoped she didn’t trip; the stairwell to the basement was dark and twisty. Luke had promised to change the light fixture to a brighter one but it had gotten bumped to the bottom of our to-do list. My stomach knotted. Great, I killed my best friend on my wedding day. Just as I was about to launch a search party, she came rushing in, pale as a bed sheet. Camille blew her bangs off her forehead and seemed short of breath. Odd. A self-proclaimed fitness addict, the stairs shouldn’t have winded her.
My eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”
“Fine!” she replied a little too sunnily.
“You sure? You don’t appear fine.”
Camille ignored my searching questions. Instead, she hurriedly unzipped the garment bag and revealed my vintage wedding dress. Her diversion tactic worked. The ladies in the room, including me, gasped at the beauty of it. Pale white with a lace bodice and a full skirt, it was as if Cinderella had a 1950s makeover.
My mother laced the corset with firm and steady fingers. Unlike mine, which were shaking with anticipation to meet my future husband. After a final tug, she tied the silk ribbons in a bow.
Stepping backwards, she admired her handiwork. “Perfect.”
The full-length mirror reflected a woman who, up until eight months ago, didn’t believe happy endings existed in the romance department. They were a mirage, a delusion that only brought false expectations. Then, Luke had walked into the hotel lobby where I’d been working and proved the best love stories were worth waiting for.
Sandy fastened the veil to my hair and lifted it over my face.
Tears shined in my mother’s eyes while she clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh honey, you look absolutely stunning.”
Murmurs of agreement were heard from the rest of the clan. I draped a fake fur shawl across my shoulders and pinned it together with my grandmother’s vintage brooch.
“If we don’t leave now, Luke is going to think you abandoned him at the altar,” Camille said.
We gathered our belongings, rallied the kids, and bustled out the front door. The groupies had moved on once the news had broken about the Five Guys Come Back Tour. Thank God, too, because I didn’t want the media to catch wind of Luke’s and my nuptials. My footsteps faltered. A mid 1960s black Rolls Royce, my dream car, idled in the driveway.
I gripped Camille’s forearm. “Please tell me this is real.”
“It’s real. If you don’t believe me, I can kick you in the shins.”
“I’m good.”
The driver’s door opened and a man dressed in a five-piece suit stepped into the spring air. “Madame, your ride awaits,” he said in a British accent.
Camille ushered us into the plush interior, stocked with mini bottles of vodka, which I immediately hid. Nil had about sixteen years until she was of legal drinking age. No need to start her early.
Propped against the highball glasses was a note addressed to me. My fingers tore the flap.
To my dearest Marlene,
I have been wanting to call you my wife since the moment I laid eyes on you. During my time on tour, or as I fondly nicknamed it, my darkest period, you were my salvation and the only reason I’m still living and breathing today. I clung to the thought of being a family again once I became the man and father you
and Nil deserved. At twenty-two, I was immature—reckless with my own life. Certainly not ready to care for another human being. Call it selfish, but staying would have destroyed us because deep down, a part of me believed I didn’t deserve the love you could give. A love that spans continents. I have already told you all of this amongst the backdrop of the twinkling night sky though, haven’t I? Nevertheless,, I’ll never stop telling you. You deserve to hear 24 hours a day how much you mean to me. I’ll see you at the altar, my future wife.
Love,
Luke
The tears leaking from my eyes smudged the ink on the paper. I swiped at my face with the back of my hand, sniffling. I wanted yell at the driver to floor it; waiting another minute to marry my soul mate seemed like torture. I tucked the note into my purse.
Camille raised her scotch glass filled with clear liquid. The kids had empty ones, as did I.
“To my best friend, my sister, and the Nancy to my Sid, life with you hasn’t been boring that’s for sure.” Her comment caused the crowed in the car to chuckle. Smiling, she proceeded. “Nobody deserves her fairy tale ending more than you. May you and Luke grow old and gray together till death do you part. To Luke and Marlene!”
Glasses clinked and happiness warmed my stomach as I glanced around at my support system. My grandmother, my mother, and Camille were right alongside me through the worst and best times. When the weight of being a single mother had shoved me to my knees, they’d picked the gravel from my wounds and helped me to my feet.
The car came to halt and soon after, the driver opened the passenger side door. I imprinted this moment to memory. How the sidewalk glistened like a thousand diamonds in the late afternoon sun. How the air, scented with fresh rain, signified newness and a fresh start. Nil interwove her fingers in mine as we walked up the cobble stone path. Two potted lavender plants flanked the front door, painted pale lavender as well. Our landscape designer, a woman who’d just graduated from grad school, had done a terrific job. She’d charged half the price, but transformed the overgrown lot into an eco-friendly wonderland. My hand stalled on the doorknob. Once I entered the foyer, a new chapter would begin. Glancing at my daughter with her pink dusted cheeks, sadness sank heavily in my stomach. A part of me didn’t want to share her with Luke.
To Cherish and To Hold (Love of a Rockstar #1.5) Page 6