“Sweet baby Jesus,” my mom said, getting to her feet. She came over and reached her free hand out to stroke the chain. She pulled her fingers from the box, as if she were afraid she’d be asked to pay for touching it.
“Here.” Holli took the necklace and helped me fasten it around my throat. Emma had been right; it looked amazing with my dress. It even went well with the small round diamond studs I’d planned to wear in my ears.
I faced the mirror. The woman reflected there was way too hot to be me. Her dark hair was too glossy, too expertly teased and sculpted, falling over her shoulders in spirals like a fairy tale princess. Her make-up—subtly smoky eyes and deep berry lips—was expertly applied, her skin buffed to flawless perfection.
Okay, never mind, I could totally look that hot. But I was amazed at how calm I seemed. I scanned my reflection for any telltale sweat beading on my powdered nose or bronzer-ed cheeks. Any tremble in my shoulders or my hands. All my inner turmoil was well-disguised.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”
* * * *
Shelby brought us to the catering entrance of the Terrace Room, confirming on her headset all the while that the foyer was clear and all the guests were seated inside.
“You look beautiful, kiddo,” Mom told me, and I saw tears at the corners of her eyes. I made a note not to look at her during the ceremony, if I wanted to win the bet over who would cry first. As the elevator opened and everyone made a concerted effort to get my dress out without the doors closing on it, I remembered my vows, neatly printed out and folded in my purse upstairs.
“Oh no!” I gasped, turning to bolt back into the elevator.
Holli waved a square of paper in my face. “Looking for these?”
“I…” My voice stuck in my throat, and I threw my arms around her thin shoulders. “You’re the best friend in the world.”
“In the universe, bitch,” she corrected me. “Now, stand up. You’re not going down the aisle hunched over like an Igor.”
“Right, right.” I straightened and fanned my face, trying to dry my already prone-to-watering eyes.
The curtained entrance that had been parted for guests to enter and find their seats was narrower now. Shelby bent her headset mic closer to her mouth and said in a lowered voice, “Groom to walk the mother of the bride…” She paused then motioned to the two uniformed attendants standing by. They flanked the opening in the curtain. Mom went in, and they closed it up behind her.
I resisted my urge to peek at Neil. I wanted to know how he looked. I wanted to see him, so the ocean of nerves sloshing in my stomach would control themselves. I clenched my fists and unclenched them. Sweaty palms were a good sign, right?
“Sophie?” Holli asked, pressing my bouquet of burgundy-black calla lilies into my hands. Simple gold ribbon mummified the stems, with a long braid down the front. I stared at them until Holli gently shook me. “Sophie, breathe.”
I thought of my fear the night before. I thought of my trepidation the first time Neil had told me he loved me. And I remembered the day in the hospital, when his health had turned and his survival had seemed improbable, at best. I’d wanted to run, then. I’d wanted to run so many times.
The music fell quiet. Then, it started again. And my heart seized.
It wasn’t the song we’d decided on. This was undeniably Neil’s doing. Though the tempo was slightly picked up, and there were no lyrics, no mournful piano, I knew, and Neil knew, what it was. “Fljótavík,” by Sigur Rós. We will come out the other side of this, Sophie. And we’ll be stronger for it. He’d held me that night, after our abortion, after our break up, days after he’d revealed that he had cancer, and he’d translated the Icelandic lyrics for me as I’d lain in his arms. He’d stayed with me that night, and all the nights after. He’d made the choice to stay with me, even though we’d only been together for a few weeks. Even when I had betrayed him.
He could have run.
“Ready?” Shelby asked, but the curtains were already drawing open to form the gilded proscenium from which I’d emerge. As they did, I saw him. Down in front, beneath an elegant, gold-tinged white chandelier, was the only man I’d trusted with my heart. The man who would never, ever run.
His tuxedo was the truest black I’d ever seen. It was a custom Brioni he’d agonized over almost as much as I’d agonized over my dress. The perfectly tailored jacket and the peaked lapels emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. The man could somehow make a bow tie look perfect, even when I thought they looked doofy on everyone else.
But it was his face as he looked at me that melted away any last silly doubt in my mind. He took a breath that visibly raised his chest, even from so far back. His lips parted; his throat moved above his collar. He looked nervous. He looked incredible.
He looked like my future.
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I didn’t want to run from him. I wanted to run to him. The joy in me broke over the dam of reason and respectability, and I couldn’t stand to be so far from him. Damn the pictures, damn the propriety, and damn the wedding planner’s possible heart attack. I didn’t walk down that aisle.
I ran.
Ignoring Holli’s yelp of surprise and the brief tug at my train as it slipped from her grasp, I threw caution—and my fear of falling—to the wind. The speed of my steps increased until I was finally at his side. He intercepted me before I could crash into the officiant, thank god, and crushed me in his arms.
The murmurs of surprise, low chuckles, and a few cheers from our guests broke through my happy fog, and I blushed self-consciously.
“I don’t suppose we need to ask if you do,” the officiant quipped, and there was more laughter. I dipped my head, and Neil took my hand, winking at me over his pleased half-smile.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began. “We are gathered here today to bear witness to the marriage of Neil Charles Leif Elwood and Sophie Anne Scaife, two souls seeking union in the sight of God and the love of their families and friends.”
Neither of us were huge on the God thing, but we’d agreed that it would cause much less drama from my mother and grandmother if we included it.
“Neil,” the minister prompted. “Do you take Sophie to be your wedded wife, to cherish her love and her friendship for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” His eyes were already shining. I trusted his ironclad stoicism would help him rein it in. “I absolutely do.”
I did not have any stoicism, so my voice was uneven and shaky with emotion when it was my turn to say, “Oh, I do.”
A happy tear spilled down my cheek, and Neil reached for the black handkerchief square peeking above his pocket. He carefully dabbed the drop away, a smile of smug satisfaction tilting his mouth. He won the bet. I’d cried first.
“The bride and groom will now pledge their commitment and their love to each other through the vows that they have written. Sophie?”
Holli was at my side in an instant to hand me the folded paper with the printed version of my vows, and my hands shook as I straightened the page. I took a deep breath. Though I’d imagined gazing into his eyes and communicating every word from the depths of my soul to his, there was no fucking way I would keep it together if I so much as glanced up at him.
“Neil Charles Leif Elwood,” I began, trying to remain dignified and not giggle as I read. “I love you, even if you have far too many names. Eight years ago, you saved me. Even if I had never seen you again, you would have been the most important man in my life. Through twists and unexpected turns, you came back to me, and you brought me a love that I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams.” And there was the crack in my voice, right on time. I swallowed and tried to struggle through. “You brought me forever.”
I’d debated that line while writing it. I didn’t have forever with Neil. Our age difference made that prospect improbable. But no one was guaranteed a happy ending. No one was assured of forever, so forever had to be whatever we ended
up with.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I went on. “I’ve never met anyone so calm and unconventionally romantic.” I put my hand on my chest, over the necklace, so he would know what I meant. “Someone who can deal with whatever life may bring. When things have been at their hardest, you have given me the strength to keep going. When things have been at their best, they’ve been amazing.
“We’ve already proven our ‘for better or for worse’. But you don’t need to prove your love with words, anyway. You do it every day. You’re the best part of my life, and I will face whatever comes next, not at your side, but as a piece of a whole that will never be split apart. I promise to you that I will be yours, heart, body, mind and soul, for the rest of our lives.”
When I looked up, Neil’s eyes shone, and his lips were rolled tightly between his teeth. “Damn it,” he cursed, wiping his tears away with a handkerchief.
He pulled his own vows from the inside pocket of his jacket as I handed mine back to Holli.
“Elskan mín, Sophie Anne Scaife,” he began, and, with his half-smile, he clearly ad-libbed, “who has too few names.” He went on, “You have been my heart since the day I met you. Though we spent six years apart, there was not a day that I didn’t think of you. On my hardest days, you’re the reason I get out of bed. When I am at my worst, you are the best of me.
“There are some who say that passion fades and love becomes a comfortable thing. An old sweater, or a favorite chair. But, until the day I die, our life together will be an adventure, a journey that will never reach a destination. You are mine, as I am yours, and we will always be. Wherever I am, you will be with me, even when we are apart. I will keep and protect you in heart and body, and care take our union and family with all of my devotion. And I will kill all of the spiders.”
A burble of laughter popped from my throat, and I sniffled. There was no sense in fighting it, I already owed him ten large.
With a sweet, serious smile, he finished, “You have made an indelible mark upon my soul, and my heart is yours, for a time longer than forever.”
Listening to his heartfelt words, I had never felt more loved. And that was an unbelievable feat, considering how loved and cared for he made me feel every day.
Rudy came forward and produced the rings, Neil’s a smooth, platinum band set with a small black sapphire, mine platinum with a polished, pale aquamarine. His birthstone on mine, my birthstone on his. Emma had suggested that romantic touch.
Neil took my hand in his. We noticed each other’s tremble at the same time. When I met his gaze, we both giggled like idiots.
“With this ring, I thee wed and, with it, bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands,” he murmured as he slid the ring onto my finger.
At my turn, I got the wrong finger. Neil waggled the correct one, and I quickly adjusted my course. “With this ring, I thee wed…” I repeated the words he’d said.
The officiant opened his hands. “Neil and Sophie have pledged their love, commitment, and friendship in our presence today. It is my great honor to pronounce them husband and wife.”
My breath caught at those words.
To Neil, the minister said, “You may kiss the bride.”
Neil hooked his arm around my waist, and our mouths met as he bent me back, to the cheers and applause of our guests. The string quartet struck up a bouncy, joyous version of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,” but all I heard was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Delicious shivers raced up and down my arms as our kiss went on for, admittedly, longer than it strictly needed to, and when we parted, Neil blushed from collar to hairline. We hurried back up the aisle with our hands joined, and I could tell he felt as giddy as I did.
Shelby was waiting to intercept us; while we were relieved to be through it all, her job was only half over. “Let’s go, let’s go,” she ordered us, sweeping us along to the room where we would hide in until the guests moved to the Grand Ballroom for cocktails.
The moment we were alone, Neil leaned back on the door. His huge smile was infectious. “We’re married.”
“We are!” I launched myself into his arms, and he caught me gladly, picking me up to spin me in a dizzying circle.
See, Sophie? All that worrying for nothing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The photographer was very good, and super efficient, with her assistant corralling family members and keeping them on deck while another group was having a photo taken. By the time we were done with the pictures, though, my face was numb, and the corners of my mouth wobbled from trying to hold a smile for so long.
Not that I didn’t have anything to smile about. My heart could have punched its way out of my chest for all the adrenaline flooding through me. It intensified every time I met Neil’s gaze. He looked at me like I was the only woman in the room. Or the world, for that matter. He looked at me like I was the only other person alive, and as though he could be okay with that.
Well, with the exception of a few people. Our photo with Emma and Michael was a difficult one to get, because Neil wouldn’t take his attention off Olivia. She’d gotten much cuter now that her face wasn’t all squashed in and red. She even smiled now, and she beamed up at her grandfather, delighting him, even though everyone said she just had gas.
When the pictures were finally done, my eyes were strained from the camera’s flash, and my cheeks ached. There wasn’t much I could do about the latter. I was going to end up smiling all day long, whether my face could take it or not.
“All right, the bride needs to change, and then, we’ll get the couple to their reception,” Shelby called over the sound of hotel staff already collecting up chairs.
“I think that means I have to go.” I caught Neil’s hand and squeezed. “See you at the reception, Mr. Scaife?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mrs. Elwood.” He kissed my forehead then released me with a little push. “Off you go. Wardrobe change the first.”
Shelby snuck me deftly to the suite. This wasn’t her first Plaza rodeo.
“Wait, I need my mom,” I protested, looking over my shoulder. There was no sign of her. “She’s going to help me get out of this.”
“Don’t panic, I’ll find her. And I’ll send the stylist to touch up your hair.”
I self-consciously patted a curl. “It’s not flat, is it? It wasn’t flat for the pictures?”
“It was beautiful for the pictures,” she reassured me. “We’re just going to do some preventative maintenance.” She tucked me away in the upstairs bedroom with Pia’s dress form and held up one finger as she backed from the room, saying into her headset, “We need Pia Malik. Has anyone seen her?”
“Just send my mom,” I called, and Shelby halted. She nodded to me, hit the button on her headset and said, “And the mother of the bride.” Then, she scurried off.
This must be what it’s like for Holli when she’s doing a runway show.
The door opened behind me, and I sighed in relief. I knew she wouldn’t just run off to the reception, if she thought she could be helpful. “Mom, could you get me out of this—” I began. Then, I glanced at the mirror.
Neil came through the door, his eyes meeting mine as he smirked at me in the reflection. A stab of nervous heat flared in my stomach as he walked slowly toward me. “You know, of all the predictions I’d made about your dress, I would never have thought you’d wear black.”
My stomach fell a little. “You didn’t like it.”
“I loved it.” He settled his hands on my waist and held my gaze in the mirror. He might as well have zapped me with electricity; just the touch of his hands through my dress sent zings down my spine. “The only problem was how much I wanted to tear it off of you.”
“I’m glad you restrained yourself.” At least in front of our guests. I wouldn’t have cared at all if he ripped the gown off me now.
Still looking into my eyes in our reflection, he lowered his mouth to the curve where my neck met my shoulder.
>
My knees wobbled. Breathlessly, I reminded him. “My mom is coming to help me with my dress.”
“I think I am capable of undressing my own wife,” he murmured against my neck. “And it would be my pleasure.”
The knock at the door was furious and insistent, as though someone had been knocking for hours. The sound of my mom loudly clearing her throat preceded, “Neil, get decent and get out of there. Sophie has to change.”
“Go,” I said, unhappy to break my optimistic bubble. I would have liked nothing more than a quick fuck or a long cuddle, but both would have to wait.
“Come in,” he called, looking down at me with a disappointed scowl. “I was just leaving.”
I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him, just as my mother and Marie shoved their way in. Marie held a curling iron over her head like a trophy won in grisly combat. Oh god, she’s killed the stylist.
“Right, let’s get all of this off,” Mom said, grabbing the back of my dress and deftly popping the tiny, silk-covered buttons. Neil left in a backward stroll. Our eye contact lingered. When he turned, I caught the flash of his half-smile before he closed the door behind him.
Mom tugged the bodice of the dress down. “You two have a whole honeymoon to fool around.”
“But we’ve also got a whole reception to wait through,” I reminded her.
She gave me a stern look in the mirror, and I just grinned back at her.
It was my day, I could pick at her a little.
* * * *
I’d changed into a figure-hugging column of pearlescent gold silk and black Chantilly lace that would be so much easier to move in and met Neil at the closed doors of the Grand Ballroom.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a bride?” he teased, slipping an arm around my waist. He spread his hand as if each finger reached out to touch as much of me as possible and appropriate. “You certainly don’t look virginal and blushing.”
I stepped into his embrace and smoothed my hands down the lapels of his jacket. “You realize that’s your fault, right? I was pure as the driven snow before I met you. Now, you look at me like I’m your dinner.”
The Ex Page 28