We returned more in love than ever, and we decided to take a drive down for Charlie to meet my mom and dad. It took about two and a half hours to get to their house from L.A. We loaded Charlie’s Mercedes with my four dogs and headed down. I noticed he was a bit quiet on the drive and seemed nervous. He kind of made a joke that he didn’t meet too many girls’ parents. I reassured him that my mom and dad would love him, but he still seemed nervous.
An hour into the drive, his car locked up and stopped right in the middle of the freeway, and he had a panic attack. I thought, shit, I have all these dogs in the car, we’re going to get rear-ended on the freeway, and he is panicked. The excursion was not going well. Before Charlie’s superstitious mind convinced him that this was a sign from God that he wasn’t meant to meet my parents, I switched places with him, got the car unlocked, and took off down the freeway again.
There was a charm to Charlie’s nervousness. He may not have thought so, but I did. Likewise, when he finally met my mom and dad. I can’t speak for how Charlie felt, but he looked at ease, and they did, too. They liked him immediately. People have often asked if his past concerned me, or if it concerned my parents (if it did, they didn’t say anything to me at the time), and the truth is, no, my parents were great about it, and so was I. As far as I’m concerned, the past is what it is—the past. You can only judge a person by their actions in the present, and the man I met didn’t show any signs of the past.
3
RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, I got a phone call at 5:30 a.m. It was Charlie. He’d been nominated for a Best Actor in a Comedy Golden Globe for Spin City. It meant a lot to him, and he was genuinely excited for everything it meant. It was validation of all his hard work professionally and personally. I couldn’t have been happier for him. I felt blessed to share it with him.
Right after Christmas, Charlie and I left on a romantic winter holiday getaway to the Miraval spa in Tucson, Arizona. Going to this spa for a week of pampering was a dream vacation. Oprah had been to the Miraval spa. And I was thrilled to have met a man who loved the idea of massages, facials, herbal wraps, and healthy foods as much as I did. What woman’s heart wouldn’t melt when her man asked, “Are you going to try the body scrub and a seaweed wrap?” After we arrived, and a few minutes later, as we checked into our room, unpacked, and slipped into our pajamas, I noticed Charlie seemed distracted, and I wasn’t sure what was going on.
A moment later, I found out. Charlie had something special on his mind. “I can’t wait until New Year’s,” he said as he got down on one knee in front of me and asked if I’d marry him. At the same time, he opened a box and handed it to me. Inside was a gorgeous 4.5-carat, round diamond ring. I’d never imagined getting proposed to by someone wearing boxers and a T-shirt while I was in a tank top and pajama bottoms, but I swear to God, I couldn’t picture a more romantic moment. Of course, I said yes!
“I was going to wait until midnight on New Year’s,” he said. “But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold out.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said.
I woke up the next morning and called my parents with the news. Surprised, they offered enthusiastic and what I took as genuine congratulations. Despite the whirlwind courtship, my parents never questioned our getting married so quickly. I’m sure they had conversations with each other privately. But they knew me well; I was an adult, and when I made up my mind, that was it.
Over the next week, as the rest of the world learned about our engagement, I enjoyed this new chapter in my life. I constantly held my hand in the sun and looked at my diamond sparkle. I loved my ring. I loved what it meant. I was a fiancée. I couldn’t wait to be married to Charlie. I felt unbelievably fortunate to have met him at this time in his life. As he told me, in battling his problems he’d evolved into a healthy, open, and humble person. His career had taken off again. He had confidence. And now he was in love. Life was working out for him, as he’d been told it would if he got himself together. I felt similarly about myself. I’d turned thirty and knew I’d found the man with whom I wanted to build the rest of my life. As touched as I was when Charlie shared his dreams and made me a key part of them, I was equally gratified at how easily he fit into my dreams. Our compatibility seemed to underscore my belief that fate truly did connect soul mates when the time was right. You just had to be patient and ready.
In January, we attended the Golden Globe Awards. I found a classic gown by Giorgio Armani and got my hair and makeup done at Charlie’s condo. It was fun getting ready together and sharing this moment that meant so much to Charlie. It was also the beginning of our moments as a couple; in our first public outing, we proudly walked the red carpet at the Beverly Hilton, holding hands, posing for photos, and answering questions from dozens of reporters. Yes, we were engaged. Yes, we were in love. Yes, things were great. Charlie’s father and sister went with us to the Globes. Martin, who was also nominated in the drama category for West Wing, exuded proud father when he looked at his son.
Inside the ballroom, Martin sat with the West Wing cast and Charlie and I took our seats at the Spin City table. Ironically, given events that would take place in the future, I sat between Charlie and Bon Jovi guitarist Richie Sambora, who was married to Charlie’s costar Heather Locklear. It was my first time meeting Richie, and that’s all that happened. We said hello and not much else that evening. I was head over heels in love with Charlie, who won that night and told the world in his acceptance speech that he loved me, too. It was a magical moment.
To the press, our relationship was a great story. Charlie was the comeback kid, and with me on his arm and a diamond ring on my finger, it looked like the classic case of the good girl reforming the bad boy. Except that wasn’t the case. I didn’t have to reform Charlie. He was already reformed. As I said, his past was his past and I wasn’t judging him for it. I believe our experiences make us who we are, and Charlie’s past appeared to have made him a wiser and better man. He was in a good place, and he was grateful to have been given a second chance at life.
Following the Golden Globes, life was sublime. We alternated nights between his place and my place in the Palisades. In our free time, we watched movies, sports, and had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant near the beach. We had the best times just sitting in bed and eating ice cream and talking all night. When I’d turned thirty in February and a girlfriend gave me those flowers with that card that said the best times were ahead of me, I nodded in agreement. It seemed they were, starting with our wedding.
Charlie and I were in sync on that, too. Both of us wanted an intimate wedding for family and close friends. We didn’t want it to be huge. We wanted it to feel more like a fun, elegant dinner party where we’d be able to talk to each guest. We decided eighty guests was the perfect number.
Once we picked a date, we decided to hire a wedding planner to coordinate the arrangements. I interviewed a handful of planners and picked my favorite, Mindy Weiss, who then met Charlie. He approved, too. Mindy, who became a close friend, had done the most spectacular parties and weddings. She was easy to talk to, a great listener, calm and sweet, she thought outside the box, and she seemed unflappable. She clued straight into us when I explained the most important part of our wedding was the food. Charlie and I wanted great food. Mindy had some suggestions for a caterer, but we wanted our favorite restaurant, Giorgio Baldi, to make the meal. Unfortunately, they didn’t cater events. Mindy stepped in, and I don’t know what she said, but they changed their mind, and not only were we thrilled, we knew Mindy was perfect to steer us into our wedding day.
Even though there are some things I don’t agree with in the Church, I still wanted to have a Catholic ceremony. Martin introduced us to a friend of his, Father Michael Kennedy. According to Catholic tradition, we took pre-cana classes, which I loved. Taking them privately, we filled out a questionnaire about our beliefs and goals, and our methods for handling conflict, and the process made me feel even closer and more deeply connected to Charlie. We were al
so happy Father Kennedy agreed to marry us outdoors instead of in an actual church and told us it would still be recognized by the Church; at the time, it meant a lot to me to have a Catholic ceremony. As for my wedding dress, several designers offered to make it. That kind of generosity was beyond my imagination. But I had my heart set on wearing one particular designer, Giorgio Armani, and he wasn’t among those who’d offered. Nevertheless, I asked my publicist if she could ask if Armani would be interested in making my dress. I knew it was a long shot. I mean, who gets her wedding dress designed by Giorgio Armani?
I did! Not only did Giorgio Armani say he would design my wedding dress, he also wanted to make dresses for my maid of honor (my sister, Michelle), my mother, as well as tuxedos for Charlie, his best man (his closest friend, Tony Todd), and my father. I was blown away. I’d expected him to politely say thanks but no thanks, but instead this was way more than I would’ve dared to dream. However, there was a condition: Mr. Armani also wanted us to fly to Italy and meet his design team and asked if we would attend his fashion show as well. Some condition!
Of course, I said yes, and then I called Charlie. He was excited for me and knew for a girl that it was the ultimate fairy tale.
3
AT THE END of March, after Charlie wrapped Spin City, we got on a plane for Italy. This really was a fairy tale for me—flying to Italy to meet Giorgio Armani and have him design the most special wedding dress a girl could ever hope for. Once there, we met Mr. Armani at a villa where his design team was waiting for us. Again, fantasy time! Mr. Armani was stunningly handsome in person, and a gentleman. He couldn’t have been any nicer. He didn’t speak much English, but through his translator, he mentioned that since we didn’t want Charlie to see my dress, they were splitting us up. Then the fantasy really took off. The men’s team ushered Charlie into one part of the villa, and I followed Mr. Armani and the women’s design team into another room, where they showed me numerous sketches they’d already done and then tons of fabrics they’d pulled for me to look at.
I was honored how hard they had been working on my dress. We narrowed the sketches down to a dress that was more form-fitting and simple instead of a full skirt at the bottom. They suggested a beaded, long-sleeved, lace jacket to wear over the dress for the ceremony, and then I’d remove it during the reception. We also went with a veil that was quite long, almost a train. I listened, nodded, looked, and tried to picture it all put together, and at first I thought it might be too much for our smallish wedding. However, once I saw everything, I knew it was absolutely perfect. During my fitting, a gentleman brought me a note from Charlie saying he was thinking about me. I didn’t think the day, already surreal, could get any better, and yet it did.
After our fitting, Mr. Armani invited us to his personal villa for lunch, and Casa Armani, as you would expect, was exquisite. It was perfect. Charlie and I felt like the Beverly Hillbillies. We traded nervous glances through the meal, fearful we might break or spill something. But we had an amazing time, enjoying good food and conversation together. The meal couldn’t have been better. The art was museum quality. Even the air had a unique fragrance. It was the quintessential once-in-a-lifetime experience.
The next day Charlie and I attended Mr. Armani’s fashion show, and in keeping with the theme of the trip, we were dressed head to toe in Armani, which had been sent to our hotel. It was Charlie’s first fashion show, and he was excited, and cute. Right before the show, Sophia Loren was ushered in. She stopped to say hello to Charlie, who had met her through his father many years earlier. I was in awe. Meeting her, the most beautiful woman in Italy, was the icing on the cake.
We were lucky to spend a few days in Paris, where Charlie had an event at Disneyland Paris. The two of us ran around the theme park like a couple of kids. I still have a picture of us on a roller coaster; Charlie’s face is priceless, and to this day our daughters love that photo. Once back in L.A., the vibe changed slightly when we got the news that Spin City had been canceled. We knew the realities of the TV business: ratings were everything, and Spin City had struggled to keep viewers. But we were surprised. Charlie took it hard. I couldn’t believe it. Only two months earlier he’d won a Golden Globe. We hugged and talked, and I was glad I could be there for him, offering support and comfort. Hopefully that took some of the sting out of disappointments such as this one. I knew he’d be there to help me if the situation were reversed. We had each other now. We were a team. We’d figure things out. Charlie was talented, and I knew more work would come his way. We were getting married in three months. We had a wedding to plan. We had our lives to live together.
I didn’t think three months was much time to plan a wedding, but if anyone could pull it off, Mindy could, and indeed she had everything under control. Anytime I worried about something, she calmed me down. Mark’s Garden created gorgeous flower arrangements for the tables, with lots of red roses and some champagne grapes, and since I love gardenias, he suggested a large gardenia in front of each guest’s place setting, which was just the kind of little touch I loved. Our favorite part was picking out the wedding cake; a large box of samples was delivered to our home, and we picked through the different flavors. Mindy helped us with the seating, and that left just one detail—our first dance.
Neither of us danced, and the idea of a solo in front of our families and friends made us wish we could find stand-ins. But that wasn’t an option. We decided to take private dance lessons. Since we had no confidence in our abilities, we hired the best teacher we would think of, famed choreographer Debbie Allen. She was great, and learning with Charlie was new and fun and lots of laughs. I found myself looking forward to our lessons. “See, I told you,” said Debbie, who put together a romantic routine for us.
One night, Charlie came home and said he had a surprise for me, but he wanted me to guess. He wouldn’t give me any hints other than to say he’d seen an old friend. He was smiling ear to ear. I couldn’t figure out what kind of surprise he meant. Then I saw his wrist was bandaged. “You didn’t!” I said. He nodded, his grin growing even bigger. “Yup.”
I knew instantly. He’d gotten a tattoo. I couldn’t believe it, if only because he was getting three lasered off. He removed the bandage and there it was, my name, freshly inked and shining in the light like baby skin. I let out a big “awwww.” I think a tattoo can be sexy, certainly intimate, and meaningful, and Charlie’s was all three. No one had ever gotten a tattoo for me. I jokingly said he should’ve kept the tattoo on his ankle, the letter D, with a pair of angel wings, which he’d gotten for his first wife. As I told him, he got lucky marrying two girls in a row with the same first initial.
Well, being that I didn’t have any ink on my body and had never planned on it, I quickly decided to follow his lead. I was going to get a tattoo (perhaps I should’ve followed my gut; it’s the kiss of death to get someone’s name imprinted on your skin, trust me). At the time, I thought, how could I not after his grand show of affection? I eventually did get a tattoo, but I waited until after we were married. I had other matters on my calendar—such as my final fitting for my wedding dress. Mr. Armani’s team flew out to L.A., and my mom came with me to this one. I’ll never forget her face seeing me in a wedding dress for the first time. She stared at me from across the room, smiling, as her eyes filled with tears, and then suddenly she was crying. “I’m just happy,” she said. I’m sure I’ll do the same when my girls get ready to walk down the aisle.
I was ready when the big day finally arrived. The night before our rehearsal, the press learned the wedding was going to be in the lush backyard of Spin City creator Gary David Goldberg’s Brentwood home, and in a last-minute change of plans we staged the rehearsal in our condo’s banquet room. Everyone piled in and we went through the motions as best we could, sharing nervous laughs about having to be there because of paparazzi. Father Michael had both families sit in a circle and asked each person to say something they were grateful for and then offer us a wish for the long journey that wou
ld be our marriage. Hearing all those loving thoughts turned me into a sniveling sap. It was beyond sweet. Then all of us retreated to a fabulous dinner at the Hotel Bel-Air, the place Charlie and I had our first date, and finally, late that night, Charlie and I went our separate ways. I wanted the next time he saw me to be when I walked down the aisle.
I woke up the next day feeling rested and full of anticipation, yet determined to enjoy every moment, and I did, especially spending it with my mom and sister. I went over to Gary’s house early, bringing a gift for Charlie—a watch engraved on the back with our wedding date and the words “Time stood still.” Once he arrived, my dad took it to him. We got ready in separate rooms. I don’t know where the time went; it certainly didn’t stand still. Though the day was spent getting ready with my mom and sister, I had no idea where the hours went when I finally got in my dress and heard the music playing outside. Peeking outside, I took deep breaths and felt my heart thump excitedly in my chest. Everything felt good and perfect, as I’d hoped. I couldn’t have been happier. Neither, it seemed, could my parents, whose mix of excitement, jitters, and unabashed love for me was adorable. I gave my mom a kiss and then held my dad’s hand until it was time for us to walk down the aisle. At that point, I went into some kind of parallel universe where I simply counted my steps, smiled, made eye contact with Charlie, who looked dashingly handsome, and thought, “Oh my God, I’m getting married.”
Charlie and I exchanged vows under a magnificent old tree festooned with more than two thousand red roses that appeared to the eighty guests as if they were floating in the nighttime sky. I’ll never forget the intoxicating smell of the roses combined with candles everywhere.
Indeed, when I took a moment to survey the scene, it looked gorgeous and magical, like the fantasy I’d envisioned, and I couldn’t have felt any more beautiful than I did in my antique-satin gown and high-heeled Manolo Blahniks. It was all perfect: the string quartet, my bouquet of white and ivory roses, the snippets from our love letters that Father Kennedy read during the ceremony, and finally our parents lighting a candle for us. We created a wonderfully romantic day, and we shared it with the most important people in our lives. We were able to indulge, but you don’t need a lot of money to accomplish the same thing. It’s the spirit that matters and provides the memories. After we kissed, I surprised Charlie. A gospel choir filed in wearing black baseball caps embroidered with the initials CD and sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” He loved it, and it got everyone in a party mood. As our guests filed in to the reception, Charlie and I snuck off by ourselves to have a moment to soak it all in. We were married. It felt surreal and wonderful. I loved him so much and was honored to be his wife.
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