Even Lizzie was beginning to love it, with how warm and welcoming Meagan and Carol were being to her.
Would that change after the divorce, creating a divide between Lizzie and the other women, or wouldn’t it matter, since she and Max intended to remain close once the marriage was over?
“Did Max take you shopping for your ring?” Carol asked, drawing her into conversation. “Or did he choose it by himself?”
“We were together when he bought it,” she replied. “But he picked it out.”
“It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Carol leaned over to get a closer look. They were seated side by side on a comfy sofa, with a sweeping view of the ocean. “It’s sexy for an engagement ring.”
Fire and passion, Lizzie thought, burning deep within. “Max said it reminded him of my hair.”
“I can see why.” Carol smiled. “That ruby is perfect for you. I think all of our men did a great job of picking out our rings.” She held out her hand. “Jake had mine made in the style of a Claddagh ring because my great-grandparents were from Ireland, and he wanted to honor my heritage. He gave it to me before I’d agreed to marry him because Claddagh rings can be worn if you’re single, in a relationship, engaged or married. It depends which hand you wear it on and which way the crown at the top is facing. Mine is obviously in the married position now.”
“What an interesting concept.” Lizzie gazed at the ring. Along with the gold crown, it boasted a dazzling pink diamond in the shape of a heart being held by two engraved hands. The band itself was etched like a feather, a Native American detail that appeared to be woven into the Irish design. “It’s very romantic.”
Carol replied, “I didn’t want to marry Jake at first because he was so opposed to falling in love. I loved him before he realized that he loved me.”
“That happened to me, too,” Meagan said. “I became aware of my feelings for Garrett before he recognized his for me. But with how complex our relationship was, we were both struggling with it.”
Lizzie shifted on the sofa. According to the lie she and Max had concocted, they’d embraced their feelings at the same time.
Meagan continued by saying, “Garrett gave me a blue diamond in my engagement ring because I’m fascinated with blue roses. I learned about them through my sister-in-law. She studied a Victorian practice called the language of flowers, where couples used to send each other messages by using plants and flowers. Blue roses aren’t found in nature, so they aren’t part of the Victorian practice, but they’ve been introduced into the modern language of flowers.”
Lizzie asked, “How did the people in the Victorian era know what the plants and flowers meant?”
“There were dictionaries on the subject. But there were different versions, so it could get confusing if they weren’t using the same one.”
Lizzie remarked, “Max hired a landscaper to plant a big beautiful garden for the wedding. We’re having the ceremony in his backyard and the reception in his ballroom.”
Meagan said, “You should research the language of flowers and have the landscaper plant some flowers that have meanings that would be special to you and Max.”
Lizzie thought about Tokoni. He was the most special thing between her and Max. “Do you think there are flowers or plants that represent parenthood?”
“Oh, I’m sure there are. I’ll bet you can find the information online. It’s so exciting that you’ll be adopting that little boy.” Meagan grinned. “And I was right about you and Max becoming more than just friends.”
Lizzie, of course, nodded in agreement, protecting the lie. But even so, the lie was starting to seem real, with how badly she wanted to kiss him. And hold him. And feel his body pressed tightly to hers.
Before she delved too deeply into that, she said to Carol and Meagan, “I would love to have your children in my wedding.” She explained her idea about having Ivy and Nita as flowers girls, with their mothers accompanying them.
Both women accepted with joyful reactions, excited about the upcoming nuptials.
Afterward, Meagan said, “This will be the second time Ivy will be a flower girl. She was in my brother Tanner’s wedding. But she’s going to love sharing this one with Nita.”
Ivy didn’t bat an eye. She continued watching the baby sleep, even tucking a fluffy yellow teddy bear close to the infant.
“Nita means bear in Jake’s ancestral tongue,” Carol interjected. “We picked it because of all the teddy bears we’ve been given as gifts for her.”
“She’s a beautiful baby,” Lizzie said, turning to study the kids again. “And so is Ivy’s connection to her.” It was such a tender scene, so sweet and loving that she knew she’d made the right choice by including the children and their mothers in the ceremony.
But Lizzie wasn’t out of the woods yet. She still had to marry Max and fight her touchy-feely urges for him.
Eight
Lizzie glanced around her condo. Everything was in order, neat as a pin. The decorative pillows on her sofa were plumped. The magazines on the end tables were angled just so. She had a platter of fresh-cut fruit and gourmet cheeses in the fridge, along with a liter bottle of her dad’s favorite soda. She’d invited him over today.
“I hate seeing you like this,” Max said.
She turned to look at him. He’d come by for moral support, but he wasn’t staying. He would be leaving before her dad arrived. “I’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” He stood in the middle of her living room, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets. “We can both tell him about the wedding. After all, I am the guy you’re going to marry.”
“I think it’s better for me to do this alone.” She couldn’t handle sitting there, pretending to be Max’s fiancée in front of her father, not with how uncomfortably romantic this wedding was beginning to make her feel. “Besides, what’s the point of you expending the energy to try to become his son-in-law when we’ll just be getting divorced later?”
“We’ve been expending that type of energy for everyone else. And at least he already knows me.” He crinkled his forehead. “I’ll never forget the first time I met him.”
“And how awkward it was?” When they were teenagers, she’d invited Max to the house for Christmas dinner, and the three of them had stumbled through a stilted conversation, with a big professionally decorated tree in the background. After Mama died, Dad always hired someone to dress the tree. But for Lizzie that just made the glittery ornaments and twinkling lights seem fake and lonely.
Sometimes, even now, she brought Max with her on that dreaded holiday, just so she didn’t have to suffer through it by herself. Last Christmas was particularly odd. Rather than going to the house, they’d dined on a catered meal at Dad’s high-rise office, before he’d jetted off for an overseas business trip, leaving her and Max alone for the rest of the day.
“Yeah, it’s always awkward with your dad,” he said. “But how often do you see him? Once, maybe twice a year?”
“I wish I didn’t feel obligated to spend every dang Christmas with him.” But it had become a painful ritual neither of them had broken.
Max sent her a concerned look. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“If I’m going to ask him to give me away?” She released an audible breath. It was a loaded question, filled with jittery bullets. “I have mixed feelings about it.” Mixed and shaken. “I’m nervous about walking down the aisle by myself, so in that respect, it will be nice to have someone by my side. But with how distant my relationship is with him, will it even make a difference?”
“Whatever you choose to do, just remember that I’ll be waiting for you at the altar.”
Her temporary groom? Just thinking about kissing him at the wedding was already filling her with a flood of unwelcome warmth. She bit down on her
bottom lip. This biting thing was becoming a habit.
Silent, he watched her.
She quickly said, “You’d better go. My dad will be here at two.” And it was already one thirty. If anything, her father was highly punctual.
She walked Max outside, and when he leaned toward her, she panicked, her pulse pounding in her ears. He wasn’t going to jump the gun and kiss her, was he? Now, like this?
She hurriedly asked, “What are you doing?”
“There’s a ladybug behind you, and I want to see if it’ll climb onto my finger. They’re supposed to bring luck.”
Good God. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the spotted beetle in question, perched on a shrub beside her door. “Sorry. I thought you were...”
“I was what?”
She turned back to face him, admitting the truth. “Going to kiss me.”
“Today? While your dad is on his way over?” He glanced at her mouth, looking hot and restless and hungry. “Is that what you want me to do? Will that make it easier for you?”
She bit her lip again, chewing on her lipstick, struggling to contain her desire for him. “I think we should wait until the ceremony like we’re supposed to.”
He stepped back, away from the ladybug, away from her. “The gazebo. The garden. You in a long white gown.”
The wedding that was messing with their heads, she thought. “I have an appointment later this week to try on dresses. It’s at an exclusive bridal salon some of my friends have used. I told the owner that you want me to wear a dress with gold embellishments, so they’ve been gathering gowns from designers all over the world to fulfill your request.”
“Really? That’s awesome, Lizzie. But remember that I’m paying for everything, okay? So don’t spare any expense.”
And buy the best gown she could find? “I’m going to try to look the way you want me to look.”
“You’re always beautiful to me. I think about you all the time. In the morning when I wake up. When I’m in the shower. When I’m working. When I go to bed at night. It’s frustrating, knowing you’re going to be my bride.”
He meant sexually frustrating, she thought. And she understood exactly how he felt. “I think about you all the time, too.”
“The way I’ve been thinking about you?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to stop her heart from leaping into her throat.
He shifted his stance, the air between them getting thicker. “This is wrong, isn’t it?”
To be torturing themselves this way? To be pushing the boundaries of their friendship? “We’re supposed to know better.”
He glanced toward his car, a luxury hybrid parked on the street. “I should leave now and let you get on with your day.”
She nodded. They certainly couldn’t remain where they were, saying intimate things to each other.
But instead of shutting him out of her thoughts, she watched him walk away, dazed by her appetite for him.
Forcing air into her lungs, Lizzie returned to the house to wait for her dad.
He arrived sharply at two. Stiff and formal, David McQueen was a tall, trim man with an impeccable posture. As always, his short graying red hair was neatly trimmed. He wore a conservative blue suit and pin-striped tie. She assumed that he’d just come from a business meeting. Even before Lizzie’s mom died, he was a workaholic. But at least they’d been a family then. Sometimes he even waltzed around the parlor with Mama, bowing to her after each dance. Lizzie used to sneak down the stairs and watch her parents, fascinated by how good they looked together.
Clearing her mind, she placed the snack tray on the coffee table, with small serving plates and paper napkins. She offered him a glass of soda, over ice. He used a coaster for his drink. He always did. Dad wouldn’t think of leaving damp marks on a table.
He thanked her and said, “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.”
He put a few bite-size pieces of cheese on a plate. He took a handful of grapes, too, and some watermelon balls. A polite amount of food, she thought.
She sat across from him. Since he’d claimed the sofa, she went for a leather recliner. When she’d invited him to come over, she told him that she had something important to discuss with him. Most likely, he was waiting for her to get started. Dad wasn’t one for small talk. Mama had been. She could chat about insignificant things for hours.
But at the very end, Mama’s words were few. The only thing she’d written on the notepad beside her bed on that fateful day was I’m sorry. Please be happy without me.
Lizzie gazed across the coffee table at her dad. Happy wasn’t part of his vocabulary. It hadn’t been part of hers, either, not after she’d become a motherless child.
Their housekeeper had found the body and the note. Mama had done the deed while Dad was at work and Lizzie was at school.
“I’m getting married,” she said, going right for her news.
Dad calmly replied, “I noticed the ruby on your finger when I first got here, but I didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t an engagement ring. But apparently it is.” He paused. “Who’s the lucky man?”
“It’s Max.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You are?” She hadn’t expected him to express his opinion, least of all his approval. Normally, Dad remained neutral when it came to Lizzie’s life. Then again, he’d said it in his usual cut-and-dried way.
“It never made sense to me that you weren’t dating him. You two seem so suited. But it appears you both figured that out.”
Lizzie nodded, playing her part as Max’s fiancée. But still, she’d never suspected that her father had been analyzing her friendship with Max all this time. “It’s going to be at his house, on the second Saturday in June. I’m sorry for the short notice, but we’re anxious to make it happen. I hope the date isn’t a problem for you, with your work schedule,” she clarified.
He sat back in his seat. “Of course not. I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding.”
Well, okay, then. At least he’d confirmed that he would be there. Now on to the next phase, she thought, the next question. “Do you want to walk me down the aisle?”
“Certainly.” He sipped his soda. “I’d be honored.”
Did he mean that? Or was it merely the proper thing to say? With him, it was hard to tell. “Just so you know, Dad, there’s a child who’s part of this.”
His eyes went wide. The most emotion he’d showed yet. “You’re pregnant?”
“Oh, my goodness. No. I didn’t mean...” Based on the fact that she’d never even slept with Max, she thought about how impossible that would have been. “We’re adopting a child. A five-year-old boy from Nulah.”
“The one you wrote about on your blog?”
She angled her head. “You read my blog?”
“Sometimes.”
They barely communicated, but he took the time to read her work? Her father was full of surprises.
“So is he the one?” he asked again.
“Yes. It’s the same child who was featured on my blog.” She explained how Max had gotten close to Tokoni when he volunteered at the orphanage last year. “Then he brought me to meet Tokoni and I bonded with him, too. We’re excited about making him our son.” She backtracked a little. “We haven’t started the adoption proceedings, but we’re going to do that after the wedding.”
He studied her, with eyes the same shade of blue as hers. “You’ll be a good mother, Elizabeth.” He quietly added, “A good wife to Max, too.”
Her father was buying into her marriage, just as everyone else had done. But lying to him seemed worse. Was it because he was the only human connection she had to her mom?
I’m so sorry. Be happy without me.
Now wasn’t the time to
think about Mama’s final farewell. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from feeling the brunt of it. “Max has always been there when I need him,” she heard herself say.
Dad reached for a piece of fruit off his plate, lifting it slowly, methodically, before he ate it. “The man you marry should be there for you.”
His words struck a chord. Was he blaming himself for not being there for Mama? She wanted to know what he was thinking and feeling, but she didn’t have the strength to ask him. And especially not while she was sitting there, pretending that her marriage was going to be real.
Dad didn’t stay long. Within no time, they wrapped things up and she walked him outside, just as she’d done with Max earlier.
“I’ll keep in touch about the wedding,” she said as they stood in her courtyard. “Your tuxedo, the rehearsal dinner, all that stuff.”
“Tell Max how pleased I am that you two got together.”
“I will.” She forced a smile. “Take care.”
“You, too.” He gave her a pat-on-the-back hug, which was about as affectionate as he got.
After they parted ways, she returned to the house, steeped in the complications of becoming Max’s wife.
* * *
Lizzie’s appointment at the bridal salon was private. Being as upscale as it was, it catered to a high-end clientele and offered preferential treatment.
She’d asked Meagan and Carol to join her, and now the three of them gathered in the lavishly decorated salon, sipping Dom Pérignon from crystal flutes. They’d been offered caviar and crackers, too, but they’d declined the salty appetizer. Personally, Lizzie had never acquired a taste for it.
She glanced at her companions, glad they were here. She couldn’t do this alone, not with how overwhelmed she was. She wanted them to accompany her because they were part of Max’s family, and, today of all days, she needed a family connection, with as often as she’d been thinking about her mom. Her father saying that she would make a good wife triggered her emotions, too, making everything seem far too real.
Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride Page 10