Chapter Twenty-Three
Meghan
“You look absolutely stunning,” I say to Giselle as she stands in front of us in her wedding dress, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face lights up in a huge smile. Her blond hair is tied at the bottom of her neck, and her diamond earrings are the only jewelery she wears.
Her dress is a light blush pink, the front high to her neck with little handmade silk flowers all over the dress. It’s tight at the waist, and the tulle just fills the bottom. There are layers and layers of tulle with the flowers scattered on them. It’s soft, it’s romantic, and it’s so her. The back has sheer material, with buttons going all the way down the sheer material. Her arms sheer with the flowers all over them, spreading to the back as if the vine is spreading. A little touch to her family’s vineyard. “I’m marrying the man of my dreams,” she says and turns around to look at the five of us in the room. Her mother and grandmother both stand together, holding each other up as they try not to cry but fail miserably.
“You look like a fairy princess,” I tell her with a smile, trying not to cry myself. Kate leans over and puts her arms around me.
The three of us got dressed together this morning. My dress was delivered to me ten minutes before I put it on, a gift from Giselle with a request.
I know we barely know each other, and when you stand at the altar to marry the man of your dreams, you always imagine your best friend standing next to you. He’s my best friend, so he’ll be standing next to me, but you’ve slowly become one of my favorite people in the world, and I don’t think I could have done any of this without you. So please accept this dress as a thank you in the hopes you will stand with me today.
I looked over at Diana, who was stepping into her own purple silk full length gown, high in the front and sweeping open back. Her hair also tied up in a bun. Kate turned and asked Diana to zip her up. Her full-length black gown was stunning; its neck went low in the front, showing just a touch, and the gold belt made the dress. The bottom just flowed down, and when she walked, you saw that it had a slit in it. Her hair the only one that is down and loose.
I unzip the garment bag, and I gasp at what is inside it. I take it out, and Diana and Kate come over to get me into it. The zip up the cream-coloured dress with a sweetheart neckline. A band of dark silver beading at the waist. It goes tight all the way to the floor, and turning, I see that there is a little train. I pick up the pieces that makes this dress so stunning and put it around my shoulder where it wraps and ties in the back all the way down the back with tiny pearl buttons. The wrap is sheer at the top, showing my neckline, but then the beading starts. The same color beading as the belt, it looks like interweaving vines.
“We need a picture,” Kate says, and I nod, going to grab Giselle’s veil. She sits down, so I can tuck it in. The family tiara is added, and Adalaide comes over and brings it over her face.
We start taking photos and then the knock on the door tells us it’s time to go. We make our way outside; she is getting married at her parents’ estate. In the backyard, on her parents’ balcony with the chandelier lit up and flowers weaving around the columns that enclose them.
Her mother walks down the aisle with her grandmother, and once they are seated, Giselle, her father, and I take our place in the carriage with two white horses. I get out first and then turn to help her step down from the carriage. Once she is out, I turn to walk down the red carpet, leading to where Guy is. Alex stands next to him in a fit to measure black tux. His hair back, his dark blue eyes watch me the whole time. I walk up the steps and look down the aisle to see Giselle making her way. I stand by her while she says her vows to the man she loves, and I lock eyes with the man who I met on a fluke one crazy day in Paris.
When they are finally announced husband and wife, he grabs her face and kisses her, whispering that he loves her. They walk down the steps, and I finally get my hands on my man. He leans over and kisses me before I put my arm in his, and we walk down the aisle.
We spend hours or what feels like days taking pictures in the garden and then make our way inside to their grand ballroom. Walking up the stairs, we hear violins playing when we finally walk into the room where the tables are all lined up around the room in a perfect U. The head table faces the guests. The tables have flowers in the middle of them, the finest china and crystal are all ready to be eaten on. Each chair looks as though it’s been painted gold, which matches the walls. “How many people are here?” Kate says to me, holding her glass of champagne.
“Last head count was three hundred and fifty,” I say, looking around the room and finding Alex talking to someone. “She capped it at three fifty.”
“When you get married, I think you have to have double this because you’re kind of marrying the prince,” Diana says, and I shake my head.
“We just moved in with each other,” I tell them, thinking back to being home without him and being miserable. Nothing was keeping me home, so I got on the phone with Giselle, and she made it happen. I got into bed with him that night and told him I was home. He didn’t ask questions, and we didn’t talk about it. My stuff was now all hanging with his. Even though his side was still much bigger than mine, it was ours. “We can slow down on the whole marriage thing.”
The lights flickered, and we knew it was time to get seated, so I walked over to Alex who took my hand in his. “Amour,” he says, bringing my hand up to his lips. “We should sit.”
I let him lead me to the table, and we sit and listen to toast after toast and danced till our feet hurt, drinking and laughing. Kate, Diana, Giselle, and I just didn’t want the night to end, even when the sun started coming up. I looked over at the guys who were sitting together. Guy with his jacket now off, talking to his two other friends, and Alex who also had his jacket and tie off. He got up and made his way to me. “Aren’t you tired yet?” he asks me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I got on my tippy toes, my shoes long gone off in a corner somewhere. “I want to take you to bed.”
“Do you now?” I ask him, and he just nodded. I looked over at the girls.
Giselle had just picked up her dress in her hands and walked over to her husband. “Emmène-moi au lit.” Take me to bed, she told him, and Guy nodded, got up, and picked her up in his arms to walk out but turned right before he walked out of the room.
“Je vais au lit avec ma femme.” I’m taking my wife to bed, he said with a huge smile. After that, the party was over. I walked through the corridor of the castle, holding my shoes and wrap in one hand and Alex’s in the other. We walk into his childhood room, and I put my shoes down by the door.
“It was so beautiful.” I look over at him, and he just watches me. “What?”
“I kept imagining what our wedding would be like,” he says, and I put my hand on my stomach. “I kept wondering would she wear a white dress? Would she wear the family tiara?”
“Alex,” I whisper so low you can’t really hear it.
“Will she want a big wedding? Will she be okay with the press being there?” He kept going on, coming to me and kissing my collarbone. “Will she say her own vows, or will we go traditional?” His kissing continues on my shoulder. “I’ve never wondered that before.” My heart starts to pick up speed, and my stomach gets tight. “Jusqu’à aujourd’hui , je n’ai jamais pu m’imaginer à quoi ressemblerait ma femme. Cependant aujourd’hui, j’ai eu une révélation ... cela a toujours été toi , dans mon cœur , dans ma tête. Voir nos amis célébrer notre union ne fait que confirmer que cela a toujours été toi.”
I never could picture what my wife would look like, but today, with everyone there celebrating, I finally had a picture in my head, and it was you.
“Amour,” I say to him, but he just continues to talk.
“Nous nous connaissons depuis trois mois et ce que je ressens pour toi est plus grand que tout ce que j'ai pu ressentir jusqu'à présent ... Je voulais que tu saches que je suis profondément amoureux de toi. Je suis amoureux de ton sourire et même qua
nd tu te fâches et que tu me dis d’aller me faire foutre JE T’AIME. Le bonheur est dans chacun de tes sourires, chacun de tes regards, chacune de tes paroles.”
We've known each other for three and a half months, and I fall in love with you more and more everyday. Your laugh, your smile, even when you get angry and tell me to fuck off. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, I don't know anything, but one thing I do know is that wherever this life leads me, I can't do it without you at my side.
“I love you,” I tell him, and he just smirks at me.
“Je t’aime aussi chérie.” he says and takes me to bed and makes love to me. Our legs entwine together as I fall asleep with his heart beating under my ear. I don’t know when it happened or how it happened, but it was the first time I felt our hearts beat together, united and as one.
Who would have thought that our little faux pas in that restaurant would lead to the greatest love of my life?
And as someone in the same castle as us sits in her chair with a big grin on her face, she closes the latest newspaper in her hand and puts it on the bed. Where her granddaughter graces the cover in her official wedding portrait. The caption big,
Le mariage de l'année,
The wedding of the year.
Everyone looking at the paper would not even look at the little picture in the corner. The picture of a newborn baby,
Jacquline vient d’accoucher, mais la question est de savoir qui est le père? Selon les rumeurs, il y aurait cinq pères potentiels!
Jacqueline finally gave birth, but the question is who is the father? From what we heard, it could be five men. someone sure has been busy.
Epilogue
Alex
“Chérie,” I yell, slamming the door and walking into the house. “I’m home.” I kick off my shoes at the door and walk into the house. My wife runs to the railing, her hair piled on the top of her head; she’s wearing black tights and a plaid shirt buttoned up.
“If you wake her,” she hisses, “I will kill you.” She turns and walks away. I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom.
Yes, you read that right. My wife. Eighteen months to the day when she stormed out of my restaurant looking for a cab, I brought her back to the scene of the crime. But this time, it was much different. The rude waiter wasn’t there; in fact, no one was there but her and me. And in the end, I asked her to marry me down on one knee. She rushed into my arms, not giving me a chance to finish, and seven months later, we were married. With Nicole, our niece, leading the way down the aisle, I waited for her.
I stood in the front of the altar, the time ticking by like a snail in a marathon. I couldn’t breathe, the tux suddenly too tight for me. “I hope she’s okay,” I said to Guy, who stood by my side while Kate, Giselle, and Diana all walked down the aisle together. Meghan refused to choose just one, and they didn’t care either way.
She walked down the aisle on the arm of her father, wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. A veil covered her face, and she was wearing the family tiara as she walked up to me like an angel sent from heaven. She wiped away my tears. In the end, we said traditional vows, but in private, we said our true vows. I kissed her that day, and the love I had for her intensified to something I couldn’t even describe.
Walking down the aisle with her was everything and having her by my side completed me, but nothing could have prepared me for when she told me “we” were pregnant. I watched her body go from perfect to incredible. I watch her body become fuller, her breasts a touch bigger, as her body swell with our child. I held our child in my hands every night when we went to bed, and she kicked me even then. Isabella Deville came into the world screaming.
But seeing her in so much pain when she gave birth to my child made me vow never to do that to her again. Of course, it was a vow I had to rescind on, and three years later, she gave birth to Madeline. I walked to the kitchen where I knew they would be.
“Papa,” Isabella screeched, throwing her hands in the air and making Madeline cry out in fright. I looked over at my wife who walked to the bouncy chair, bending down and picking our three-day-old baby up. “Regarde ce que j'ai fait, des cookies”Look at what I made. Cookies. She shows me the plate of chocolate chip cookies that she baked with Meghan.
“ça sent si bon, j'ai hâte d'en manger un.” It smells so good, I can't wait to eat one, I tell her, and then she sticks her finger in the air.
“Pas avant de manger, après.” Not before we eat. Only after, she says, getting off the stool and running over to me, jumping into my arms.
“Isabella, go wash your hands, please. Supper is almost ready,” Meghan says to her in English. We knew that it was important for the girls to learn English just as much as French, so I speak to her in French and Meghan in English. She sits down at the table and opens her shirt, Madeline searching for her meal.
“Chérie, did you cook all day?” I looked at her. “You just gave birth.”
“I know that,” she says, rubbing her finger down Madeline’s cheek. “Why do the girls have nothing of mine?”
I walk over to them, kissing my wife first and then my daughter. “They have your blood, and with my luck, they will have your sass also.” She smiles at me.
I get up and go to the oven to take out the lasagna that I know she made. “Tomorrow, I’m getting Sylvie to come in and help with the cooking,” I tell her, and she looks at me while she changes Madeline from one breast to the other.
“But,” she says, and I put up my hand.
“Chérie, I’m not saying let them come in and raise the girls. I’m saying let them come in and help make the meals, so you can spend more time healing and playing with the kids.” When in doubt, always go with the kids. She leans back in the chair, cradling Madeline. “We need a healthy mommy, not a sick one.”
“Very smooth, Mr. Deville,” she says to me, and I smile.
“Anytime, Madame Deville.” I kiss her, and we have dinner as a family with the four of us. A little faux pas turned into my happily ever after.
The End
La fin
* * *
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Coming Soon
Behind the lights, camera, and action, Hollywood is really all about lies, love, and seduction. Are you ready for Hollywood Royalty?
* * *
Hollywood Playboy
Coming January 22, 2019
* * *
Jessica
An entertainment journalist was the last thing I thought I would be doing.
I thought once I got my degree, I would be reporting on stories that made a difference, but now all I do is report on who broke up with who and who is dating who.
I was over it.
Then I got my next assignment.
He’s Hollywood’s bad boy.
He works hard, and he plays even harder.
He’s rude, he’s condescending, and he’s made it known he doesn’t want me on the tour.
With one month on the road with him, two things might happen
One, I may never work in this industry again.
Two, I may just be like everyone else and fall for Hollywood’s Playboy.
* * *
Here is the first sneak peek.
Jessica
Breaking News: Tyler Beckett is ready to take on the press. Sources say no expense will be spared and the press will be handpicked. The question is, who will be the lucky ones?
“Knock, knock, knock,” I say, knocking on the big brown door to my editor Stephanie’s office. She is looking at something on her computer screen but looks up and takes off her glasses when she sees me. Her white button-down silk shirt tied at the neck in a bow.
“Hey, Jessica,” she says, smiling at me. “Come in.” She motions with her hand for me to enter, causing her gold and silver bangles to clink.
“You said to come see you before I head out for the day,” I say as I
walk into her corner office with the view of the Hollywood sign.
When I walked into this office seven years ago, it was supposed to be temporary to get some experience under my belt. I busted my ass in high school and had my Master’s in foreign communications by the time I was twenty-two. I planned to travel the world and write stories about subjects people didn’t hear about. I couldn’t wait to see my name on articles that made a difference in the world.
But here it was, seven years later, and I was still getting the Hollywood scoop that people craved. I wasn’t good at my job; I was the best. I had every single photographer’s number stored by heart. If something happened in this town, I was called for first dibs.
“Yes,” she answers, “please sit.” She points at the chairs in front of her desk. My long flowing black skirt moves between my legs as I walk over and take a seat in one chair, crossing my legs as I wait for her to talk. “I got a call today from Hill Crest.”
“What now?” I ask of one of the biggest production companies out there. Fifteen years ago, they produced one indie film that blew up and won seventeen Academy awards. If you want a movie made and they are backing you, it means success even if it’s shit. And trust me, there have been some shit ones.
Faux Pas Page 18