“Hey now,” he says playfully. “If I recall I was pretty good about that last load.”
“Like last month!” I look at him, head tilted sideways.
He pulls me in for another tantalizing kiss, and this, like I’ve said before and I’ll say again and like I plan on saying forever and always, is a reminder of exactly why I am in love with this man so much. We connect on every level imaginable, even after arguments. It feels like I’m melting in his arms, his grip around my waist pulling me closer, as if we’re one person. I know it sounds a little corny, maybe, but it’s like we’re in tune again. We’re back on track and in sync like we used to be, where everything just fits, even the little spats or tiffs.
The girls always joke that they can tell it’s Conner and me from miles away, whether we’re teasing one another, laughing together, or even having some dumb discussion that we’re not seeing eye to eye on. It’s, well, as Chad says: two peas in a pod.
“Let’s promise to both be better about being nicer to each other,” Conner says when we break our kiss. “Let’s promise we’ll help each other more, not be so quick to get into an argument, and just enjoy each other’s company.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Not that every day can be all frills and stuff,” he says. He takes my hand in his and starts to walk without any particular direction on the lawn, swerving and swaying around the lush park. He kicks at a dandelion, its feathering plumes floating away, “Let’s try to go back to the way things were.”
“I’d like that,” I say, feeling the butterflies flit about my stomach the way they do when Conner tells me, out of the blue, that my hair looks really nice like that or when he says that my expression while watching something intriguing on TV is a reminder of why he loves me, or when he randomly tells me that he can’t wait to marry me. That’s one of my favorites, and it gives me butterflies every time.
“So we’re good?” he asks, pausing mid-stride.
“Good? No,” I say. “Better than good.”
“How about…great?” He starts walking again, and the sight of two golfers stuck in a sandpit across the way comes into view.
“Definitely great.” I lean in to him, and we share another kiss, Schnickerdoodle hot on our heels, the tennis ball in his mouth. “I love you, Conner.”
“I love you,” he says.
“Of course,” I steal the ball from Schnickerdoodle, “we still have a huge wedding to deal with. I’ll try my best to stay stress-free, but it’s still a huge deal.” I toss the ball as far as I can, and the dog goes charging after it.
Conner looks pensive, his arms akimbo, as he surveys the vast expanse of lawn. He scratches at the back of his neck after a relatively long period of silence, and says, “I’ve got an idea.” He looks at me, and there’s a glint of suspicion in his gaze. “Now hear me out…”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What do you think?” I ask the girls, twirling around inside the large dressing room.
Robin and Lara both give me enthusiastic thumbs up.
“It’s perfect,” Robin says. She picks Rose up from the floor and sets her on her lap. Rose fusses for a second, but once Robin produces a musical toy from her bag she’s appeased.
Lara glances up from her BlackBerry. “Perfect,” she chimes in, then tucks the device into the back pocket of her black slacks. “The best wedding dress.”
“In addition to your Vera Wang gown, of course,” Robin adds with a hand motion.
“Yes.” Lara nods. “Of course!”
“Sold,” I say, undoing the lone pearl button at the nape of the dress…of my wedding dress. My second wedding dress, I should clarify. Or, actually, my first one. Depends on how you look at it.
See, I’m getting married this coming weekend. That’s right—five days, to be exact! July twenty-fifth! And no, Conner and I haven’t changed our wedding date yet again, nor have we made invitations for the wrong date (also, yet again), nor has Blizzard Melissa or Allison caused a flub with the venues.
Conner and I are still getting married on August sixteenth at the little church upon which my ridiculous dad is so insistent, and we’re still having our reception at the dreamy Chanfield Manor.
But Conner and I are also getting married in five days. A private ceremony with no one but the two of us, an officiant, and two witnesses—a best man and a maid of honor. Surprised, right? I was when I first heard!
“Eee!” Rose screeches, slowly and sloppily inching her way off of Robin’s lap. “Ohhhaaaaa!”
“Someone wants in on the fun,” Lara says. She scoops the baby off Robin’s lap and says, “Doesn’t Auntie Claire look loooovely?”
“This is definitely it,” I say, looking on dreamingly at my reflection.
Conner had the sweetest idea to cut past the hairy details, reduce the stress and havoc, and find a way to actually enjoy and relish our wedding. No more of this “tearing us apart with wedding stress” crap. So we’re getting married this Friday evening, with the warm summer air and the stars twinkling overhead, in a very intimate and last-minute ceremony in our favorite park over by the golf course. Very personal and sweet and, well, simple. It’ll be a wedding we can really enjoy and remember forever. A wedding of love, and a wedding with zero stress.
“Some day you’ll have your wedding fun, baby Rose,” I say in a high-pitched voice. I rub my nose against Rose’s soft little nub of one, and she instantly screeches in delight. When I pull back, smiling broadly because this is truly a fun and happy and stress-free bridal moment, Rose claps her hands together, voicing her own delight.
“Exactly,” I tell her. “This is fun!”
I look back in the mirror and breathe heavily and kind of shakily. This is really it. This will be my other wedding dress, and the wedding, part one, is only mere days off! Oh, I’m so ready!
Our first wedding will go on without a hitch, and I’m confident when it’s time for our big wedding, Conner and I will be so stress-free and relaxed that there’ll be nothing but an enjoyable party to be had. That’s a fact.
I read in one of my bridal magazines that brides who have more than one wedding, like one in another country or do an elopement thing first, lose all of the silly stress and nerves once the first wedding’s down. Everything afterward is cakewalk…and nothing but loads of fun!
Sure, some girls might not be as enthusiastic over the simple choice of a thrown-together park wedding with next to zero guests, but all Conner and I want is to be married at this point. That’s all. No pomp and circumstance and all the ruffles. Of course, it’s not like I won’t still have my dream wedding. Now I’ll just have two, and that’s pretty awesome.
Naturally, though, I need a second (or first) wedding dress. I don’t want to wear my gorgeous Vera in the park at night, when the grass will be all damp from the evening dew or whatever; and Conner still needs to be all surprised when he sees me on our “official” wedding day in August. Plus, I still want to wear my Jimmy Choos, and this park wedding is just the opportunity!
“The heels look simply fab with this dress,” Lara says pragmatically. “You found your winner, Claire.” She inches a wriggling Rose higher onto her hip and goggles my ensemble. “Fabulous!”
“Definitely,” Robin adds.
Emily had this brilliant dress idea when I told her of the sudden park wedding plans. She came over to deliver some prints she had made of the bridal session. Let me just say: Amazing! The canvas, she insists, will be ready soon and will look unbelievable. Oh, I can’t wait!
Anyway, Emily had this idea that I could take advantage of this park wedding and wear my Jimmy Choos. That meant I’d have to shop for another dress, of course, which I was totally game for. I mean, come on! More shopping time with the girls!
The first and most important thing about our excursion today was that the dress I buy needed to be some shade of white or cream. I want it to look traditionally bridal. Then the dress had to work with the Jimmy Choos. Then there was the matter of needing a d
ress that wasn’t loads expensive (because this one’s on me, since I would rather die than tell my parents that Conner and I are getting married before the wedding). Lastly, yet still very important, was the matter of finding a dress that was, well, perfect, and one that actually fits, because there is no time for alteration. I’ve been down that road anyhow; I would like to avoid a tailor at all costs.
Thank God this little vintage number I have on right now is the perfect fit. My Choos approve. It’s eggshell, with lots of really intricate and large-woven lace at the neckline, wrapping around the entire front and back, and all the way to the top of the breasts. From there it spills into a soft satin shift-like dress that conforms to my curves beautifully. It then pillows out with a semi-puffy skirt, ending right below the knees. It’s definitely vintage, very simple and chic, but high on detail with the pretty lace. Oh, and did I mention that it looks great with my high heels? Lara’s right; it’s “simply fab!”
“You can even use this as your getaway outfit,” Robin says. She begins to help me undo the zipper at the back waist.
“Oh, true,” Lara says. “Although I’d probably want to wear that Vera Wang of yours as long as possible.”
“You could always wear this to the rehearsal dinner.”
I snap my fingers. “Yes!” I say. “That’s a great idea, Robin. I do want to wear my gown as long as I can,” I glance at Lara, “but this would be perfect for the rehearsal.”
Rose shouts out a loud sound that we take to mean, “Exactly!”
“See? We all agree,” Robin says, leaning over to give Rose a peck on her chubby cheek. “You, Claire, are going to be one gorgeous bride! Twice over.”
***
Perfect.
Whoever said there’s such a thing as “perfect”?
A perfect wedding?
Yeah. I have two weddings in the works, and all I can say is, define “perfect.”
Well, if perfect is the sexiest pair of Jimmy Choos, the most chic vintage dress, a warm summer evening with a starlit sky, your most favorite person, best friend, and love of your life about to commit himself to you for eternity, and a thick, black wrist brace that totally clashes with your outfit, then, yeah, my wedding to Conner in our favorite park is perfect.
“You want another ibuprofen?” Sophie whispers, holding onto the forearm of mine that isn’t covered in an unsightly brace.
I kind of had a mishap yesterday morning during a last-minute yoga session before my rounds at the hospital. It was an intermediate yoga class, and really tough. Why I thought I could graduate from the beginner’s to intermediate I don’t know—and what a prime time to decide to make that move!
Here’s a new one for the wedding blogs: The article could be entitled, “Do Not Attempt New and Challenging Moves or Upgrade Yourself to a Higher Level of Yoga the Day Before Your Wedding.” I’m such a dope sometimes.
But, like I said, what’s the definition of “perfect”? I’m getting married in minutes, so sprained wrist or not, brace or no brace, it doesn’t matter!
Sophie slips her slender hand into one of the front pockets of this gorgeous black Dior dress she decided to wear for my secret park wedding. She looks stunning, but, if I may say so myself, even with the brace, I look pretty damn good myself. My Jimmy Choos are indeed perfect with this dress. The only trouble—and it’s only a small trouble that is totally worth the opportunity to wear these babies—is that the heels are really pointy, and the park’s grass is really damp, and if I stand in one place too long, I start to sink.
“Yes, please,” I whisper back, holding out my palm. “Pop me another one.” Sophie gives me another painkiller before darting over to the spot on the ground where we’ve piled our purses.
“Here,” she offers. I take the bottle of water and swig it down. The pain of my sprained wrist isn’t excruciating, but I can use a little relief.
“Thanks.”
I ask if my lip gloss is still all right, and when Sophie gives me the all-clear, I take a deep breath. “This is it.”
“Claire,” Sophie says, holding onto my good arm again, “I can’t believe you didn’t want this photographed.”
“Nah,” I say. “Less to busy ourselves with. This is a special moment I want to reserved just for memory.” I give her a smile. “And we’ve got cell phones to snap some afterward, anyway.”
“Emily would’ve done it, you know? I could’ve given her the time off.”
“You think the girls are all okay I didn’t invite them?” I ask, it suddenly dawning on me that maybe I was making a huge no-no by not inviting my best girlfriends to this wedding.
“Oh, no way,” Sophie says breezily. “They completely understand. This is a super intimate wedding.” She flashes a smile and pats my good arm. “Okay, ready?”
“Is it time already?” I look at her with wide eyes.
“Come on. You look gorgeous.”
I steady myself, leaning on Sophie, and pull my heels out of their sticky spot in the grass. We slowly walk around the corner of a small mound of daisy-covered grass, ascend over another slight hill, and then, there he is. Just like I saw him that day we kissed and made up.
Conner is standing there in that favorite slate-colored suit of his, hands crossed in front of him, and he’s looking right at me. Right under a moonlit, starry sky. He’s wearing a wide grin that seems to be widening with each step nearer to him I take.
I feel Sophie tighten her arm around mine, giving it a soft and encouraging pat. Not for one second do I take my eyes off of Conner, even when one of my heels gets stuck in the grass for a second too long. I twist a little at the ankle and pull it out, continuing to walk, smiling so big, feeling so happy, and eager to slip my hand into Conner’s, exchange vows, and officially become his wife.
“Claire.” The officiant, who is standing between Conner and Chad, our best man and witness number one, looks at me and gives a short nod. “Conner.” The same look and nod to Conner.
Sophie lets go and gives me a kiss on the cheek before she takes her place off to the side, next to Chad.
Conner takes my hands in his and is beaming. Absolutely beaming! I don’t think he’s ever looked happier. I know I certainly have never felt happier. Sure, the night he proposed was amazing. Finding my Vera Wang was out-of-this-world. Being in this park, about to pledge my love to Conner, is by far the most magical moment of my life.
“We are gathered here tonight…” the officiant begins. But I lose myself in Conner’s eyes. In his soul. I can’t pay attention to anything but how handsome he is, how happy and content he looks, and how amazing that this is actually happening. I’m fully committed to no one and nothing else at this moment but Conner Whitley, my almost-husband.
“Do you, Claire Linley, take Conner to be your husband? To have and to hold, to love and honor and cherish, for now, tomorrow, and all of eternity? If so, you may say, ‘I do.’”
I swallow and through tears of joy say, “I do!”
“And do you, Conner Whitley, take Claire to be your wife? To have and to hold, to love and honor and cherish, for now, tomorrow, and all of eternity? If so—”
“I do!” Conner bursts out.
Everyone laughs, then the officiant finally says those six words I’ve been waiting to hear for forever! “You may now kiss the bride.”
The officiant doesn’t complete the sentence before Conner pulls me close and kisses me, parting my lips softly but hungrily with his tongue. He pulls me as tightly to him as I think possible, and I succumb to the feeling of pure bliss. Of chased dreams actually coming true.
“I love you,” Conner whispers after our long betrothal kiss.
“I love you,” I whisper, pulling him close for another as Sophie and Chad and the officiant clap, Chad cat-calling and causing me to giggle mid-kiss.
***
With the officiant now gone, and Sophie and Chad not far behind him, Conner and I slowly make our way back home. No fancy wedding. No glamorous reception. No getaway car. Just th
e two of us, husband and wife, walking through our favorite Seattle park and making our way through our quaint neighborhood to our sweet little home, where we just know Schnickerdoodle will be eagerly awaiting us.
“I love you, Mrs. Whitley,” Conner says. His arm is around my shoulder, keeping me close to him as we walk along the street.
“I love you, Mr. Whitley.”
I look down at the Certificate of Marriage that I still cannot believe is real. I’m married. I’m a wife!
“So we really have to keep this a secret, huh?” Conner kisses me on top of my curly head.
I decided to go all-natural with my hair for this ceremony—no crazy up-do or anything that would require too much work. Same for the makeup; and Conner has said about a dozen times how beautiful I look tonight. Reason number, oh, five hundred and seventy why I love this man so much.
“We have to keep it a secret at least for a few years,” I say. “You know? We’ll talk about it when we can laugh about it in hindsight. Until then, mum’s the word. Period. If my parents knew…”
“Best to keep it our secret for a while, huh?”
I nod. “Our big wedding will still be super special, of course.”
“Of course.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “I just wouldn’t want to hurt my parents or freak them out or something. But I think us having this little wedding was really important. It’s special.”
“It’s about the person you’re marrying, Claire,” he says with a sigh. “I wanted to prove to you that you’re all that matters.” He kisses my head again, this time playfully ruffling my hair a bit. “I’d marry you anywhere, Claire.”
Conner and I leisurely return to our home. All right, it’s always been our home together. But as husband and wife, it feels different. It’s super special. It’s official. It’s magical. Really!
When Girlfriends Chase Dreams Page 34