Let Love Be

by Melissa Collins

  When the limo stops, I peek out of the window and find that we’re at the poshest salon in a three-town radius. “Did you do this?” I quietly ask Linda, not wanting to make Aimee or Chloe feel like I’m as clueless as I actually am.

  “Not entirely, but I did play a part.” Her sly response is accompanied by a knowing smirk. I’ll figure out what she’s up to at some point, but for now, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy a little pampering.

  We’re greeted with flutes of champagne as we walk into the salon. There’s even one for Chloe, too – filled with sparkling grape juice of course, but she’s still giddy with happiness at the idea of having a “grown up” drink in her hand.

  We’re all seated in a row of pedicure chairs, soaking our feet when Chloe holds up two bottles of nail polish. “Which one should I get, Mommy?” She dangles a pale pink and a deep purple in front of Aimee who pretends to consider the options with extreme care.

  “Hmm, well, since it’s your special day, why don’t you get both.” She finally decides, but she winks at me over Chloe’s head.

  “Really? Can I?” Chloe clutches the bottles closely to her chest and bounces in her seat.

  “Of course you can, baby girl. You can do whatever you want today.” Though she tries to hide it, I hear the wavering of Aimee’s voice. I see the conscious effort it takes on her part not to be consumed by the swelling emotion.

  Next is make-up and hair. Chloe is ecstatic to pick out her own lipstick and blush. After her make-up is done, Cherise, the hair stylist, spins her around so that she can’t see anything, telling Chloe that she’ll take good care of her. “But I don’t have any hair,” Chloe mumbles and the reality of today comes crashing back around us as Chloe’s bottom lip quivers with sadness.

  Stepping to the side of her station, Cherise pulls out a box and hands it to Chloe. “Here. This was delivered for you this morning.”

  Cherise steps to the side as Aimee crouches down in front of Chloe. “Go ahead, baby girl. Open it.” She swipes a single tear from Chloe’s cheek and looks like she’s holding back a river of her own.

  Chloe squeals with excitement as she yells out the words scrolled across the front of the box, “Locks of Love. Mommy, I have hair now. I’ll be beautiful.” Aimee pulls Chloe into her arms and loses the battle with her tears. Pressing her lips against Chloe’s kerchief-covered head, Aimee mumbles, “Hair or not, baby girl, you will always be the most beautiful princess I know.”

  Linda and I watch on, holding each other in a tight embrace though our tears. Cherise spins Chloe around so that she’ll be surprised when she sees the final look. Aimee steps next to us as we gather our emotions off to the side of Cherise and Chloe.

  “Thank you, both, so much. We wanted to get her one for so long, but money has been tight with all of her medical bills. We applied for one a few weeks ago, but we didn’t expect to hear anything. I don’t even want to think of the strings you pulled, but I can’t thank you enough.” She wipes at her cheeks with a tissue as she takes a deep breath. “I’ve felt like a failure as a mother because I couldn’t provide her with something as simple as a wig.”

  “It’s the least we could do, Aimee. We’re just happy that she likes it,” Linda says, pulling Aimee into her arms for a brief moment before Cherise calls over to us that she’s all done.

  “Ta-da,” she chirps, spinning Chloe around in her seat.

  Chloe’s new hair is done in soft, ringlet curls that frame her tiny, heart-shaped face beautifully. The look is finished with a sparkling tiara, which Chloe claims makes her look even prettier than the real Cinderella.

  Chloe stares into the mirror, mesmerized by her transformation. Cherise keeps her occupied as some other stylists work their magic on Linda, Aimee and me. I decide on a soft up-do of a low, perfectly messy bun. It’s classically elegant and it will help to dress up my simple black cocktail dress – the one I’m just now remembering is back at the hotel, in the backseat of my car.

  Stephan, my stylist, sprays a final layer of hair spray before proclaiming I look “magnifique” as he kisses his fingertips to his mouth. Just as I’m about to turn to Linda to ask her if she grabbed our dresses before she tricked me into thinking I needed to help her with something, a UPS deliveryman catches my attention as he walks toward me in my seat.

  “Lucy Crane?” he questions as he pulls out the small tablet from his side pocket for me to sign.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I respond dumbly. After I sign, he hands me the rather large box and I’m surprised it’s much lighter than I expected.

  Linda looks on from the chair beside me, absolutely beside herself with amusement. She pops out of her seat as Cherise walks up to us. “This way, ladies.” She slashes her hand to the side and ushers us into the back of the salon.

  The room, which seems to be used as a massage area, is transformed into a dressing room, set up with a few dividers. Chloe and Aimee step out from behind theirs as Linda and I enter the room. Chloe twirls in her powder-blue puffy dress, every bit the princess. “What do you think?”

  The room erupts into a loud round of applause and Chloe jumps up and down with happiness. When the noise quiets and Chloe calms down, she points to the box in my hands. “What’s that, Lucy?”

  “I have no idea. Let’s take a look.” I place the box on the vanity that’s been wheeled in just for us to primp in front of.

  I cut open the plain box outer box and gasp in shock when I reveal the simply but elegantly wrapped box. I peel back the silver paper; as I lift the box top, my heart lurches into my throat.

  “Oh, my God,” I gasp, shocked and extremely surprised. “This is gorgeous,” I mumble through my hand-covered mouth. I run my fingers over the satin fabric and pull the dress out of the box entirely. It’s been packaged with such care that there isn’t a wrinkle on it anywhere. Stunning isn’t even a word I would use to describe the navy blue gown in my hands. The one-shoulder design is accentuated with a black sequined applique that sits atop the gathered fabric at the hip. The flared, trumpet-style skirt is sophisticated and classy without being over-the-top. When I catch a glimpse of the Monique Lhuillier designer tag, I can’t even begin to comprehend the price. This dress puts the one I had originally planned to wear to shame.

  Very carefully, Cherise takes the dress from me and hangs it on the frame of the makeshift dressing room divider. When a sheet of the tissue paper cascades to the floor, I notice a card that must have been hidden in there. Evan’s familiar handwriting graces the paper.

  Clutching the letter to my chest, I have to fight back the few tears of happiness that threaten to fall. Linda looks over my shoulder and whispers, “See? I had nothing to do with today, at all.”

  She moves away from me telling Chloe that she thinks she saw some more champagne up front. Aimee follows along, saying that they’ll give me some privacy as I get ready.

  The second they’re out of the room, I call him immediately.

  “Hey, love.” His voice is gruff and sexy.

  “Hey, yourself.” Happiness permeates my soft words.

  “You sound happy,” he mutters, sounding like he’s trying to catch his breath.

  “I sure am. I’ve been whisked away to a posh salon and I just got a gorgeous gown delivered to me. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  He chuckles through the line. “Maybe,” he feigns cluelessness, but I can tell he most certainly had something to do with all of this.

  I sink down into the chair and call his bluff. “Yeah, well the note signed ‘Evan’ is more than suspicious, don’t you think?”

  He laughs and finally concedes, “Fine, I might have had a little something to do with it.”

  I smile at his playfulness. “It’s really stunning. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I know tonight is important to you, so that means it’s important to me.” I want to respond that I have the most thoughtful boyfriend in the world, but we haven’t defined our relationship – though if th
is doesn’t put a stamp on what we are, I’m not sure what will.

  Not knowing exactly how to react to my own thoughts, I offer up an oh-so-eloquent, “So…” and let it hang in the air between us. “Then what are you going to do today?” I’m totally digging for more information, hoping that he’ll own up to whatever else he’s worked out with Linda today.

  “I just got in from a run, and then the rest of my afternoon is classified.” Getting more out of him is obviously, not going to happen.

  “Fine, you win. I’ll see you tonight then, yeah?” I flop back into my chair, slightly frustrated that I couldn’t get anything out of him, but mainly, I feel overwhelmed by his loving kindness.

  “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world. Have a good day, love.”

  “Bye, Ev.”

  The box that Linda brought with her does not have a dress for Chloe in it. Linda smirks as she hands it to me. “Okay, I admit, I played a small part in helping him out today.” Pinching together two fingers in front of her face so there’s no space between them, she chuckles as she hands me the box.

  I open it, shaking my head in disbelief. Inside there are black, sparkly shoes that match the design on the hip of the dress and a small black clutch to match the ensemble. “Did you help him with these?”

  “Of course I did. He was really sweet about asking for help too. I think you got yourself a keeper there, girl.” Linda smiles broadly before applying a final dab of lip gloss. “You look absolutely beautiful.” She links her arm through mine and we walk out into the front of the salon where Aimee and Chloe are waiting for us.

  Everything about this day – the dress, the hair and make-up, Evan’s sweet surprises – makes me feel like I’m floating on a cloud. The feeling of being taken care of is something I’ve denied myself for so long, and today I feel more than pampered; I feel loved.

  “Wow!” Chloe gasps and runs up to me. With her arms tightly banded around my waist, she looks up at me with stars in her eyes. “This is the most magical day ever!”

  “It sure is, baby girl. Now, let’s get going. Your party is about to start.” Aimee wraps an arm around my shoulders as she whispers one last “Thank you” to me.

  We’re all dazzled one last time as we step outside. If we thought the limo that picked us up from the hotel was fancy, well, this limo puts it to shame. It’s big enough to fit at least ten people. Sleek and sophisticated, this is the exact thing I was looking for when I started searching a few weeks ago. The few local companies had nothing more than the standard – nothing special. But this stretch Bentley is more than I could have ever planned for. I look over to Linda. “Did you?”

  She shakes her head and points to the opening back door. My breath hitches in my throat as a very dapper Evan steps out. Dressed in a classic black tuxedo, he looks absolutely delicious. Knowing the lickability of everything that’s under that tux makes him look even more edible.

  I walk up to him and he takes my hand in his, softly kissing my knuckles. “Hi, love.” His words falter just a little before he asks, “I hope it’s okay that I did this. You’re not mad, are you?”

  I stroke his stubbled jaw tenderly, loving the scratchy feel of it on my fingertips. “Mad? More like in awe. This is just too much. I don’t know what to say.”

  He presses his lips to my cheek. “Then don’t say anything. Let’s enjoy the night. You look beautiful by the way.” He looks me over from head to toe, wide-eyed and more than a little hungry.

  I run my hands down the front of my gown. “Oh, this old thing,” I joke and we share a laugh.

  Turning back to the Bentley, I see Aimee filling her husband Chad in on all of the details from our afternoon. Chloe absentmindedly twirls her full skirt off to the side of the adults – alone. Evan notices too and walks over to her.

  “Hey, Chloe. I brought something extra special for you today.” She beams with excitement as he walks over to the limo. He pulls out a simple rose corsage for her and slips it on her wrist.

  “Thank you,” she bubbles as she inhales the roses. “Daddy, look!” She barrels into Chad and he effortlessly lifts her up into the air. “Isn’t my hair pretty?”

  “Prettier than anything I’ve ever seen, baby girl.”

  She coils her arms around his neck, basking in his compliments. “Can we go now? Please, please, please!”

  “Sure, thing, Chloe. Let’s get you to your ball.” Aimee and Chad slide into the limo behind her and Linda, Evan and I follow. Of course, no one can get a word in on the ride back to the hotel as Chloe fills Chad in on her ‘princess day’ at the salon. I’m more than happy to just sit next to Evan and enjoy the feel of his fingers tracing lightly over my exposed shoulder.

  When we arrive at the hotel, Chloe is thrumming with excitement. The door opens from the outside. Expecting to see the limo driver, I’m more than surprised to see Reid there – tux and all.

  “Princess Chloe.” He extends his hand to help her from the limo and she looks up at him with awe. “I’m Prince Charming. Are you ready for your ball?” he asks sweetly and all Chloe can manage is an eager nod.

  Reid winks at me as he escorts Chloe into the hotel, looking like she’s walking on a cloud. “Okay, so Katie helped me with more than the dress.” Evan answers my unasked question. “You said Chloe wanted a Prince Charming and she doesn’t know Reid, so I thought he wouldn’t mind helping. He was actually quite willing, which surprised me.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me one bit.” I stretch up on my toes and pop a kiss to Evan’s cheek. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for everything you’ve done today. And not just for me, but for Chloe and her family.” My emotion swells when I think about the real meaning behind this event. This will more than likely be Chloe’s only ball – no prom, or wedding or anything like that. Her life won’t turn out like other little girls’ lives, but pushing down the sadness, I choose to focus on the happiness that today will provide for her, Aimee and Chad.

  “There’s nothing to repay, love. Just having someone to do all of this for is payment enough.” Tucking my arm into his, we walk into the magical fairyland of the hotel ballroom where cancer and sadness cease to exist, where the only thing that matters is the happily ever after – at least for the night.

  When the limo drops Evan and me back off at my house, it’s well past midnight - time for the carriage to turn back into a pumpkin.

  “You’re really great with kids, Evan. I’ve never seen anything more adorable than you dancing with Chloe stepping on your feet.”

  We walk into the living room and I notice that Evan is more than comfortable here – hanging his coat on the rack, sliding his shoes off and lining them up with another pair he’s left here. A huge smile spreads across my face knowing he is a part of my life and that he feels like he belongs here.

  “I hope she had a good night,” he says as we walk up the stairs, the skirt of my dress rustling noisily with each step.

  “She was barely awake when Chad carried her out of there. I think it’s safe to say she had a fantastic time.” Evan steps behind me and unzips my dress once we get into the bedroom. It’s odd how quickly he’s become such an integral part of my day and night. All of the nerves I felt the other week about us moving too fast have seemingly evaporated into thin air.

  Evan packed a bag before the ball and left it in the limo. He’s pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of there as I change into some pajamas. Curling into bed next to him, I feel comfortable – and nowhere near as afraid as I did just a week ago.

  He’s clicking through the channels, catching the tail end of some late-night talk show. “Do you want kids?” The remote slips out of his hand as the words tumble carelessly out of my mouth.

  His face transforms from calm and relaxed, to tense and nervous in a heartbeat. “Um,” choking on his words, he mutes the television and awkward silence falls around us.

  Fumbling for some kid of recovery, I slide up against the headboard and look over at him. “What
I meant was you were so great with the kids tonight. Do you ever wish you had had your own?” He’s got the world’s greatest poker face on, so I can’t tell which question bothered him the most – the one where I asked him if he wants kids, assumingly with me, the woman he’s only recently started dating, or the one where I ask him if he’s felt incomplete because he didn’t have his own children.

  His body feels tense next to me, reluctance to answer either of my questions vibrating loudly between us. “Do I want kids?” he repeats my question, sitting up next to me. The inch that he moves away from me does not go unnoticed. “I never really thought about it.” He carefully considers his words. “I mean, yeah, when I was younger I guess so, but then the situation with Brody happened and I drowned myself in studying to be promoted. I kept myself busy doing things for everyone else – for Brody, for Joe when Sara was sick – so that I didn’t have to think about what I wasn’t doing for myself. Then 9/11 happened.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and across his face, puffing out a frustrated breath. “The thought of Drew’s kids having to grow up without him because of something I did made me give up on the whole idea of a family. I didn’t deserve it.”

  His last words hurt my heart. How on Earth could he think he doesn’t deserve something as wonderful as a family? The fact that he’s remained single for the majority of his life is a testament to his self-sacrifice, though. “Hey,” I cup his cheek, pulling his face toward mine. “I don’t like making you feel like this.” I smooth out the lines crinkled in sadness at the corners of his eyes. “You did deserve it and you still do. If it’s something you want, that is.” Those words don’t help to ease his frustration – me and my stupid mouth. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise. I was just – curious I guess; that’s all.”

  “Do you want more kids?” he asks with a touch of uncertainty, twisting to face me.

  Completely caught off-guard, I don’t know what the best answer is here to salvage this conversation. I’ve honestly never given the idea of more kids any thought. It was just something that wasn’t meant to be. Now that Melanie is basically an adult, the idea of starting all over again – especially when I’ve already devoted the majority of my adult life to raising a child on my own – isn’t really one that I want to entertain. But, on the other hand, how can I even begin to be so selfish when Evan has done nothing but sacrifice his own happiness. Trying my best to dodge the bullet that I feel like either answer will bring, I lamely say, “I never thought about it.” The tone of my words, calculated and cool, essentially puts an end to the conversation.