Lovestruck Forever

by Rachel Schurig

“I’m glad you came home. Even if it wasn’t necessary.”

  “I’m glad, too. I wish it could be for longer.”

  “It’s fine,” I assured him before yawning hugely. “We’ll be married in no time, and then there won’t be any more of this separation nonsense.”

  For a long moment, I concentrated on his breathing, the in and out that raised and lowered my head gently. As my eyes were starting to drift closed, I heard him ask one more question. “We’re really okay, aren’t we?”

  “Of course we are,” I murmured sleepily. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The day of my wedding shower was one of those perfectly clear, warm autumn days that makes you wish summer could stick around forever. I spent a long time choosing my outfit, wishing I had taken Sofie up on her offer to come over and help me get ready.

  “How’s it going?” Thomas asked, leaning against the doorway to our large walk-in closet—which was really more like a room and contained much more space than any two people could ever actually need.

  “I’m having some difficulty,” I told him, pulling another dress from the rack.

  “You can wear anything, love. You’ll look perfect.”

  I managed not to roll my eyes in his face, but only barely. I took the three dresses in my arms out to the bedroom and laid them across the bed. “Pink, yellow, or white?” I asked, staring down at the bed with my arms crossed.

  “Hey, isn’t that the dress you wore when we first met?” he asked standing behind me and pointing at a brown shirt dress I had discarded over the back of the rocking chair in the corner of the room. I squinted at it. Gauzy material, pink flowers. I grinned.

  “How did you remember that?”

  He slipped his arms around my waist, stooping over to rest his head on my shoulder. “I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

  I snorted. “Thomas, you work with literal movie stars and models on a daily basis.”

  “And I am telling you the God’s honest truth that not a single one of them has ever been as beautiful to me as you are.”

  I tilted my head so our cheeks pressed together. “You’re sweet.”

  “And then,” he continued, still reminiscing about the day we met, “you went off about how awful Jackson was, and then I knew it was true love.”

  I smirked. “That was terribly rude of me. You should have run away at your first opportunity.”

  He smacked my butt as he pulled away. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Thomas, none of this is helping me figure out what to wear.”

  He ran his fingers across the white dress. It was made of eyelet lace and cut in an empire waist with a scooped neck and an A-line skirt. Very sweet and simple. “I’ve never seen this.”

  “It’s new. I bought it for today, but then I thought maybe it made me look too girlish, so I left the tags on.”

  He held the dress out. “Try it on for me.”

  I shrugged, taking the garment from him and slipping off my robe so I could step into the dress. “What if you skipped the bridal shower?” Thomas asked, an eyebrow raised as his eyes ran over my body.

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  I pulled my arms through the cap sleeves and turned for him to fasten the zipper. “There.” He leaned down to kiss the base of my neck. “All done.”

  I turned to face him, holding out my arms. “What do you think?”

  His eyes flicked up and down over the dress. “I think you look perfect.”

  “Yeah?”

  He took my hands, pulling me closer. “Yeah. All in white…it’s almost like a wedding dress.”

  I laughed, pulling away to go finish my hair. “My wedding dress is a lot fancier than this, mister.”

  He followed me over to my vanity. “But that’s probably the next time I’ll see you dressed in white. It’s really almost here, Lizzie.”

  I met his eyes in the mirror over the vanity. “Any regrets?”

  He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “Not a single one.”

  ***

  Thomas drove me to the church. He was going to spend the day with my dad and brothers, watching a soccer game at some bar, before he and my dad joined us for the opening of gifts. He had initially argued that he would feel out of place at a party of all women, but Maria had growled that it was the way we always did things, and he never said another word about it.

  “Can I walk you in?” he asked.

  “Please do.”

  The basement room was decorated almost identically to the way we had done it for Laura, and that was just fine with me. It felt comforting knowing that Maria’s bridal shower had been just like this, as had the showers of so many of my cousins. Sometimes being a part of such a long line of tradition was very nice.

  “This looks great,” Thomas enthused, kissing each of my sisters on the cheek before bending over to nuzzle Maia. He had been adorable with the baby ever since the movie had wrapped and he’d come home. I was starting to get that broody feeling, the scarily powerful desire to see him hold a baby of our own. I kept having to remind myself that there would be plenty of time for that. First, we had to get through my book release and the subsequent tour, plus the premiere of Earth’s End and the upcoming Darkness shoot. Not to mention the wedding itself. And the renovations we’d just begun on the Hampstead house. A baby could wait. For now.

  “I told you the white was perfect,” Sofie said, coming up behind me with a glass of punch. She looked down at the pink liquid. “Though maybe not the safest bet with the punch.”

  “I’ll be careful.” I took the punch with one hand, hugging her with my free arm. She was really starting to show now, and she looked pretty cute. She’d moved back in with her parents shortly after Laura’s baby was born, and though she claimed they were constantly driving her crazy, it was for the normal family stuff that always drove us crazy, and not related to her pregnancy or her bare ring finger.

  “You should get out of here,” she told Thomas. “All the old bitty aunts will be here soon, and they’ll just be all over you for being so cute.”

  He leaned down to brush his lips across mine. “Have fun, love.”

  “I will. See you in a few hours?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  It was a typical family shower. There was good food, lots of visiting, and the requisite embarrassing games. All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a nicer party. When Thomas and my dad showed up, all the ladies applauded, and my fiancé, the world famous actor, actually blushed at the attention.

  He was a great sport about opening presents. He oohed and aahed over each and every dishtowel and place setting. And when I opened the box containing my grandmother’s crystal punch bowl, he let me bury my head on his shoulder while I cried, and made jokes to take the attention off of me.

  But it wasn’t until much later that he really showed me what kind of man I was marrying. Much as we had done after Laura’s shower, we loaded up all of the gifts into several vehicles. I expected my parents to invite us over for dinner, as was our custom after a family event, and was shocked when they instead announced they’d be coming to our place to drop off the gifts and eat with us there. I gaped at Thomas’s knowing wink. “You knew about this?”

  “I invited them,” he whispered in my ear. “Your brothers, too. And I told them how much it would mean to you for them to see our place before we moved.”

  I shook my head, still shocked. They had never come to our house in all the months we had been there, a tacit reminder that they may have given their blessing for our wedding, but they still didn’t approve of the way we chose to practice our relationship.

  It was strange at first, having them all there. I had come to think of the house as a little Thomas bubble, the place where we existed together but outside of the rest of my family, Sofie’s temporary stay notwithstanding. By the time Maria started loading my dishwasher after dinner, I decided I liked them being ther
e, strange or not. Having them in our life like this was something I could get used to.

  “Lizzie,” Thomas said after everyone had finished eating the leftover shower cake. “You have one more present to open.”

  “I do?”

  He nodded and I realized that everyone in the room had stopped talking and was watching us. I wondered if they were in on this, and then, with a thrill of excitement, I realized that this could be it, the big surprise he had refused to tell me another word about. After all the drama over Franny had calmed down, I started asking him about my surprise at random intervals, hoping I could catch him off guard and get the information. So far, he had flatly refused to share a single detail.

  “Here,” he said, placing a square wrapped present on my lap. I tried not to frown down at it. It certainly didn’t look very exciting. What kind of massive surprise could be in a box like this? When I hesitated, he placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. “Open it.”

  I slid the thick ivory paper away from the box and opened the top. Nestled in tissue paper inside was a plain leather book. A photo album? I shot Thomas a questioning look before pulling it out.

  “Look inside.”

  I flipped open the cover to see what appeared to be a scrapbook page. There were several photographs of flowers—flowers that looked very much like the ones we had chosen for the wedding. Beside the photos was a pink invoice. “What—?”

  “Keep going.”

  The next page was a picture of the cake Imogen and I had looked at in London. The invoice on this page was yellow.

  The rest of the book contained assorted other invoices and receipts, for catering and a DJ and a photographer and a string quartet. One page was an assortment of menus, another a list of possible songs for a ceremony. The scrapbook contained pretty much everything you could need for a wedding. There was only one problem—I had never seen any of these invoices. Had never heard of the DJ or the string quartet. It was like Thomas had collected all the evidence of someone else’s wedding.

  “Thomas, what is this?”

  “One more page, love.” He flipped to the last page of the album, and I realized I was staring at a wedding invitation. It looked just like the invitations we had sent out for our wedding—the same paper, same typography.

  “Just read it.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Medina request the honor of your presence…daughter Elizabeth Medina…son Thomas Harper…St. Mark’s Church, London England.

  I stared at the paper, confused and oddly close to tears. “I don’t…” I looked up into his familiar green eyes. “Thomas, I don’t understand what this is.”

  “We planned two weddings,” he said. “For you. One here, one in London.”

  I just stared at him, the words not sinking in. “What do you mean—two weddings?”

  “We wanted you to choose, Lizzie,” my mom said from my other side. I turned to gape at her. Did she have tears in her eyes? “Thomas told us that you wanted to get married in London but didn’t want to hurt any of us by not having the wedding here at home. We all realized that we didn’t want you to make a decision like that because of what we wanted. It’s your special day.”

  “So we’ve been helping Thomas to plan another wedding in London,” Samuel added. “This whole time he’s been over there shooting the movie.”

  “But…but…two weddings?”

  “And you don’t have to worry about wasting money or anything,” my dad said. “Because whatever you decide, we’ll still have both. One will just be a party, and the other will be the official ceremony.”

  “That way you can celebrate with all the people you love, no matter what you decide,” Laura finished.

  What you decide. Those were the words my dad used, too. “What do you mean what I decide?”

  “You get to choose, Lizzie,” Thomas said. “That’s what we want—what we all want—for you to choose where we get married.”

  I still felt shocked, like their words just couldn’t sink into my sluggish brain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because we knew you wouldn’t believe it,” Maria said, and I realized it was the first time she had spoke since Thomas had brought out the gift. “If we had told you that we didn’t care where the wedding was, you would have thought it wasn’t true. You would have thought we would be secretly upset or judging you, or whatever.” Her eyes met mine across the room. She looked part apologetic, part sad, and very much sincere. “We thought if you could see all the work we put into the London wedding, you would realize that we really were okay with it. Because we are.”

  “We are, Lizzie,” my mom agreed, reaching for my hand. “We really are.”

  I looked back at the book in my hand, at the proof that they had put more effort into making me happy than I could possibly imagine. I thought of all the work they had done for the wedding in Detroit, all the errands they had run with me, all the vendors we had visited. The time and the money and the love they’d put forward.

  And now I knew that they had done it twice.

  The tears came so quickly I had to cover my face. I couldn’t believe they had done this, that they’d managed to keep it a surprise all these months. That they’d all been in on it.

  “Are those happy tears or sad tears?” Carlos asked and I could only shake my head, helpless. Thomas slipped an arm around me, bending his head close to whisper in my ear.

  “We all love you, Lizzie. We just want you to be happy.”

  I looked up, looked around at all of them—my too big, too loud, too bossy, wonderful family, and I knew it was true.

  “How can I ever thank you for this?” I asked, covering my face again.

  I heard my brothers and Sofie laugh and Thomas squeezed me tighter.

  “You can help me meet some hot European babes while we’re in the UK,” Matias offered, and I heard the telltale smacking sound of Maria slapping his chest.

  My mother reached out and took my hands from my face, looking me straight in the eye. “All you have to do is be happy, Lizzie. With whatever you choose. That’s all we want.”

  I looked from my mom to the rest of my family. Dad, smiling at me. I remembered his words about accepting Thomas in New York. Laura at his side, rocking the baby, also smiling at me. Samuel, who’d liked Thomas from the start. Matias and Carlos, who were now arguing over who could get the hottest girls overseas. Sofie, rolling her eyes at me, her hand on her swollen belly. And Maria, sitting at the back of the room, her gaze steady and unwavering.

  And beside me, his arm firmly over my shoulders, loving me more than anyone had a right to be loved, Thomas.

  “I don’t think being happy will be a problem,” I whispered, ducking my head to his shoulder, so overwhelmed I could barely speak. “I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”

  Epilogue

  I married Thomas Harper in front of fifty of our closest friends and family in a small brick church in Kentish Town, London.

  As I confided in my mother before the ceremony, the location was particularly appropriate. After all, he had first demonstrated his commitment to me by joining me for worship in this very church when I had just moved to London. What better place to promise that commitment for the rest of our lives?

  Though the wedding had been planned by others, every detail was exactly what I would have chosen for myself. Of course, it helped that Imogen had been taking detailed notes of everything I liked during our wedding window-shopping day so many months ago. I was confident, however, that they would have been able to do just as well without that insight. The wedding had, after all, been planned by the people who loved me best in the world.

  “How do you feel?” Sofie asked, speaking to my reflection in the mirror.

  “I feel good.”

  “Not nervous?”

  I wanted to laugh. What did I have to be nervous about? There was nothing in the world that I was more sure of.

  “I feel more anxious than nervous,” I told her. “Anxious to get started already.”

>   She turned away from the mirror to check the clock on the wall. “Not long now.”

  I gave myself a last glance in the mirror before standing. Thomas had originally hired a hairstylist and makeup artist to come help me get ready, but I decided I wanted the day to proceed with as few outside influences as possible. Besides, between Sofie and Callie, I was in good hands. In fact, I was pretty sure I had never looked better.

  I wasn’t the only one. “You’re gorgeous, Sofie,” I told my cousin. “Seriously.”

  I expected some quip about her shape, about the pregnancy ruining the line of her dress, and was surprised when she smiled instead, smoothing out her wine-colored skirt. “Thanks. The dress is pretty flattering for my preggers figure.”

  “You’re not kidding,” Laura said, joining us in the dressing room. Two months postpartum, and she pretty much had her figure back. The Grecian draping of the bridesmaid dresses helped cover anything she might still be uncomfortable with.

  “You guys done with the pictures?” I asked.

  “Yup. They’re finishing up with the guys now. Everyone was right behind me.”

  As if on cue, Bryony, Maria, Callie, and my mother entered the room. The wedding photographer had been pulling us out in groups to take some pre-ceremony shots. Their return was another sign that we were getting close.

  “What else do you need, Lizzie?” Maria asked in her no-nonsense voice.

  “Just my veil.” I looked to my mother, radiant in navy blue. “Will you help me?”

  Maria handed her the veil from its hanger by the mirror, and my mother brought it to me. “Duck your head a little, sweetheart.” I did as she asked, bending down so she could place the comb in my loose chignon. The veil flowed out around my shoulders as I straightened, and the hush in the room told me what I already knew—I was ready.

  “Ladies?” The vicar’s wife stuck her head in the room. “We’ll start in just a moment.”

  “Thank you,” my mother told her. “We’ll be right out.”

  There was a flurry of activity as my bridesmaids came to give me one last hug.