by Jean Oram
Olivia cupped her midriff with a hand and smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“She’s going to need that back soon,” Ginger said under her breath.
Olivia laughed. “Plenty of time, Ginger.”
Ginger whirled, turning to face Catherine curiously, hands on her hips. “When was the last time you treated yourself?”
“Um?” She felt caught off guard, and even so, her heart sank as she thought over the question. Had she ever truly treated herself?
She couldn’t afford to. And it didn’t feel right to ask Zach to cough up money for something fancy like a beautiful wedding dress just because she thought it was a fun idea. Plus what if he said yes?
“We can work on Zach if he’s the hang-up,” Olivia said.
“I just…” She thought about photos of the celebration being posted on social media. A small, quiet gathering like what had been planned at Brew Babies next month was safe. But a real wedding reception would bring a significant security issue.
Safety first, she thought with a sigh. Always safety first.
Not the dream, but the reality.
That was what mattered. Not the beautiful dress and celebration.
Besides, they hadn’t even reached the I-love-you stage of things. A big wedding didn’t quite jibe with that fact.
“You don’t want something larger than the wine and cheese at the pub?” Ginger asked. Her voice lifted at the end of her sentence, dangling that carrot in front of Catherine, just waiting for her to reach out to take a bite of the wedding dream so she could hook her and reel her in.
She was not getting hooked and reeled in.
Zach had already bowed out on the no-reception plan. She knew how easily it could become something big. Especially if she gave the women here the go-ahead to bully Zach into it—not that it would likely take much. He seemed to want whatever made her happy.
“I don’t want photos and a big fuss. I just…” Her eyes drifted toward a gown with a beaded bodice. It had dream-dress potential. But sadly, it was way too fancy for anything she’d ever have, even if it would look absolutely amazing on her motherly curves.
“Then don’t create a big fuss,” Ginger coaxed. “Keep it simple. Get your guests to take photos and send them to you if you don’t want to hire someone.”
“I just don’t want to be plastered all over everyone’s social media.” She added quickly, “It’s silly, I know.”
“Why not?” Ginger asked. “Are you shy about photos?”
Catherine shrugged.
“You’re beautiful.”
Olivia nodded in agreement. She was watching her thoughtfully, and Catherine worried what she might be figuring out about her.
“I get it,” Olivia finally said, head tipped to the side, and Catherine panicked. “I used to be a model, and being out there and having everyone judging you is hard. Sometimes it’s nice to lie low.”
Catherine felt the stress flood out of her as quickly as it had come. She nodded, relieved she didn’t have to tell them she believed she might have someone stalking her. “I don’t like a lot of attention.”
“Unless you’re onstage,” Ginger said. “I heard you really hammed it up with your hubby.”
“There was hardly anyone in the room. Just Moe and Amy and that cowboy. Cole?”
“Oh, Cole. The man with the brooding soul. He’s working through something. I bet the right woman could help with that,” Ginger said with a quick smile.
“Set him up, set him up,” Olivia chanted.
“I will. I will. I just need to figure out why he sits at the bar every afternoon with a shot of whiskey. If I can unlock that mystery I’ll know who he needs.”
“If the town wants to spoil you guys,” Olivia said, changing the subject back to Catherine and a wedding, “let them. You’ve moved over here with hardly anything, and Zach is a bachelor. I doubt he even has a mixer. How are you going to do your Christmas baking?”
“He probably doesn’t even have cookie sheets!” Ginger exclaimed. “You need to have as many parties as you can to load up on household stuff.”
Catherine laughed. “His kitchen is fine.”
“Oh, come on,” Olivia said. “We want to dress you up. Please?”
“Lightly beaded bodice with an illusion back adorned with lace appliqués, and a flowing skirt,” Ginger said. “Three-quarter-length sleeve.”
That did sound amazing. She reminded herself that she was not going to try something on.
“That luscious cream in satin,” Olivia said. She gave a gasp, leaning forward. “Chantilly lace overlay for the skirt.”
The women fired more details back and forth, building a look that Catherine could envision. One she wanted.
“Hair combs with pearls and crystals,” Olivia said.
“Veil?” Ginger asked.
“Thin and long,” Catherine blurted out. She could feel it flowing behind her on a breeze. She was getting into the dream, owning it. She could even imagine the way Zach would kiss her when they said their vows, the way Xavier would give them a gummy baby smile in his mini tuxedo.
She wanted it.
Badly.
“French twist,” Olivia said definitively.
“With a few loose tendrils,” Catherine said.
“Low heel,” Ginger added.
“We don’t have anything quite like this in stock, but I could definitely create it,” Olivia said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
“The reception is coming up fast,” Ginger said.
“Wait!” Catherine held out a hand, eyes closed. Reception. That was all. “It’s a simple gathering. People can come and go all evening. It’s a wine and cheese. There’s no need for a gown. It’s just…it’s not needed.”
The smiles faded.
“Right,” Ginger said, straightening her top. “I got carried away.”
Olivia gave a sad smile and Catherine released a heart-wrenching sigh. There was no reason to spend a pile of money on a beautiful wedding just because she was enjoying kissing her husband. No reason at all.
Zach walked into Ginger’s shop, where the sheer estrogen of the store nearly knocked him sideways. Talk about Princessville. And yet the women were standing near the cash register looking deflated.
“What happened?” he asked. “Was there a celebrity divorce I should know about?”
“There’s no excuse to build a dream dress for Catherine,” Olivia explained. Ginger nodded, her face long.
“A wedding dress?” Zach asked carefully. Were they seriously moping about that? He watched Catherine out of the corner of his eye, curious whether this was attributing to her own less-than-happy look.
“We got caught up in the dream,” Catherine said with a small laugh, shaking off the earlier mood. But there was a sadness in her eyes.
She wanted the dream.
The whole entire thing, from the ring to the dress and cake, to the picket fence and happily ever after.
Ring.
He hadn’t even gotten her a ring.
What kind of crappy husband was he? In fact, he wasn’t even sure he had a copy of their wedding certificate.
That thought brought him up short. Shouldn’t there be a paper trail? And shouldn’t he have a copy of it? Or did Catherine have everything in her possession?
Ginger said something Zach didn’t quite catch and he refocused on the women.
“You can wear a dress to the reception,” he said to Catherine. Couldn’t she?
“Not the one we dreamed up,” Ginger said. “It’s too amazing.”
“Your wife would look so incredible,” Olivia said. “We would have had to pick your dropped jaw up off the floor.” She smiled as she sauntered past him to go talk to the woman who was exiting the fitting room. As Olivia moved by him, she tapped his chin to emphasize her point about the jaw-dropping factor of the dream dress.
What did this gown look like, anyway? He couldn’t imagine Catherine being more beautiful than she already was, with her
womanly curves and smooth skin. The idea that there could be more, that she wanted to stand up in front of friends and family and make all of this even more real than it already was, made him want to sign his name wherever needed.
Before Zach could decide where to start untangling this whole new wedding thing, Ginger waved a tiny tuxedo in front of him. “You need to get this for Xavier.”
“I do?”
“You do.” She set it by the cash register, Catherine’s attention following the small garment.
“It’s too formal,” Catherine said weakly. The longing in her gaze was so strong it could have been bottled.
“He’s a baby and is growing up so fast,” Ginger said. “Nobody will think it’s odd that he’s in a tux. He’ll be adorable. I say go for it.”
“Are you pressuring her to purchase it?” Zach asked. Things were moving fast. Too fast. He needed to slow down and get a better lay of the land before deciding what the best option in this situation was.
“Such strong words,” Ginger said.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, adjusting Xavier’s snowsuit so it was fully zipped up. Ginger was driving in the thin edge of a wedge. If they let her, they’d soon have a full-fledged wedding coming up, and he wasn’t sure if that’s what was wanted. He glanced at Catherine again.
He could see the conflicted feelings she was dealing with, the possibilities at war with each other.
Was a wedding what she wanted? Was she afraid to speak up for what she really preferred? If so, that was no way to handle a relationship.
“And what am I doing?” Ginger said sweetly, folding up the small black outfit.
Zach directed Catherine toward the door, pushing the stroller. “We’ll talk to you later.”
“But what about the tuxedo for Xavier?”
“We’ll get it when we get our own attire.”
Catherine’s steps slowed and he gave a gentle nudge to her lower back. They needed to get out that door. They needed to talk, find a unified front that worked for both of them, or soon Blueberry Springs would be controlling their entire life. Or at least the wedding.
Wait. There wasn’t supposed to be a wedding. Just a reception. Low-key. Simple.
He bet this was how the holidays got out of control for most people. You gave in on one small thing that didn’t feel big at the time, and soon your quiet, at-home Christmas involved fifty relatives, three international flights and a credit card bill that would take months to pay off.
“I thought you were going to buy an ornament?” Ginger called after them, a pout clearly obvious in her voice. She was such a brat.
“Tomorrow,” Zach promised, just before the door swung shut behind them. “Sorry,” he said to Catherine. “Things looked like they were getting out of hand.”
“We got caught up in…everything.” She was shrugging off the conversation she’d had, the dream the women had helped her build, her cheeks pinker than the cold weather warranted.
“I thought you didn’t want a big deal?” She hadn’t even really wanted the reception. Well, she had, but she also hadn’t. A wedding, though? It was a far cry from a casual get-together.
“I don’t,” she confirmed.
But she did, didn’t she? So where was the truth? Somewhere in between?
“There’s a fantasy you want, isn’t there?” he insisted.
“I think most women dream about being a princess for a day.” She was concentrating on the snowy sidewalk more than she needed to.
“Do you want a wedding?”
She inhaled as though about to speak, her lush mouth opening before she clamped it shut again. “I always dreamed I’d have one. But do I want one? I’m not sure.”
They walked past a few more businesses, both of them lost in their thoughts.
“Do you want to have one with me?” Zach asked. He cleared his throat, wishing he felt confident.
“I can envision it, but it doesn’t fit our reality.” Her tone had a slight ring of amusement, almost as though she was slightly embarrassed to have been asked.
“What does fit our reality?”
“Honestly?” She stopped pushing the stroller, letting it come to a stop so she could face Zach.
“Honestly.”
She looked so thoughtful Zach found himself wanting to move nearer, to lean in and catch every nuance of expression that flitted across her face.
“I’m not sure yet.”
She was standing close enough that it could be perceived as an invitation. He accepted it, placing one hand on her waist, the other going to her hair. He bent his head like he was going to kiss her, and her lashes lowered as she anticipated contact.
“We have some time to figure things out,” he whispered.
She tipped her head back slightly, her eyes opening, and he gave her a full kiss on the mouth, not caring if anyone passing by saw them. Her mittened hands were against his chest as she clung to his coat, and he wished there weren’t so many layers of clothing between his flesh and hers. He wanted to feel her heat, feel the subtle shifts of her body against his as he kissed her back with longing.
He slowly pulled himself out of the kiss before things went too far.
Catherine watched him, her thoughts so heavy he could practically hear them speaking to him.
“What?” he asked gently.
“We got married online and have become friends. I don’t know how this all fits.”
He nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“We feel like a family.” There was that bashful look again. “You’ve become like a boyfriend. I like that.”
“So do I.”
“I can see us becoming more than this, but I’m not sure…”
She was studying him with that gentle, open way of hers, and he wondered what she was searching for. What question she was trying to answer. He felt as though he should know, but he was lost in her eyes, the way the flecks of amber surrounding her irises were lined in black, like an island in a sea of blue.
He held her tight, not wanting her to slip away.
“We’ll become more than this. This and other things.” He gazed at her, hoping she saw how steadfast he felt in his conviction. “But,” he added gently, when he saw the fear flare up, “our relationship isn’t ready for all of that. We have time and I’m not going anywhere.” He slid his hands over hers. “However, we do have to figure out what kind of party we’re having to celebrate our marriage.”
“A wedding is over the top,” she said, her expression one of warning, as though she expected him to say, “Let’s do it!”
“I agree that right now it is, but I’m here for the long haul. I like you, Catherine. I don’t see that changing. So if a wedding is what you want, maybe we go for it even though it feels like we’re putting the cart before the horse that hasn’t even been born yet.”
She hugged him, pressing close.
“Let’s keep it simple,” she said.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“I already have what I want.”
A warmth flowed through his chest as he realized that what she wanted was him.
13
Zach was a short way ahead of Catherine on the footpath leading to the lookout. Evergreens whispered on the left and right, and a jay optimistically followed his progress, hopping from branch to branch, hoping for a little treat. Zach had Xavier in the carrier snugged to his chest, and his heart was pounding hard from nerves. Parachuting into danger zones, avoiding poison and dodging bullets had led him to have sweaty palms in the past, but nothing like he had right now.
He had a plan, he reminded himself.
Stick to the plan.
Work the plan.
Modify the plan. Rework the plan.
Was that how it went? His training was failing him.
He had a ring in his pocket. He knew what he wanted to say. He could do this.
He’d caught Catherine searching Ginger’s website instead of doing her accounting work the oth
er afternoon. She’d had a wistful expression, her chin resting in her hand as she’d flipped through the online slideshow, before clicking over to a site with engagement and wedding bands.
Before she’d noticed him, he’d backed from the basement room and quietly retraced his steps to the main floor, before thundering down the stairs, giving her time to hide the sites before he appeared.
Catherine wanted the dream. The wedding. The ring. Everything.
And why shouldn’t he give that to her?
He would give it to her.
But he would never again silently laugh at any jittery guy getting ready to propose.
The lookout over the town was just behind another curve up the trail. From the small clearing they could watch the sun set, the sky streaking pink and purple as lights flicked on across Blueberry Springs. He’d get down on one knee, Xavier strapped to his chest to show her that she could have both men in her life as her little family, and he’d say his speech about destiny and soulmates. She’d say yes. He’d light the torch he had in his backpack if they needed it, and they’d come back down the mountain as a true couple. Logan and Ginger would arrive in the parking lot with champagne to help them celebrate.
He knew this was what Catherine wanted, what she secretly wished for. So why was he such a bundle of nerves? They were already married. She’d already said yes.
But this time…this time she would be saying yes to a whole lot more. To the entire dream. To him.
He’d never felt like this about anyone, and he knew in some ways that his proposal was huge. It was akin to hoisting a huge neon sign that said Be Mine. I’m Going To Let You In And Love You.”
Love you.
They hadn’t even said those three words yet. Was he putting the cart before the unborn horse again? That did seem to be the way of their relationship, and so far it had worked for them.
Something snagged his senses, and he froze on the mountain path, instinctively putting a hand on the back of Xavier’s head, while angling his body so it could serve as a shield to protect the child. He eased forward, the clearing slowly coming into view, where a man dressed in white camouflage gear waited.