by Sierra Rose
“A belt buckle?” I asked in quiet horror.
The caustic smile stayed fixed in place. “Like I said.” He rolled his shirt back down and looked out at the hills with a soft sigh. “He was strict.”
I couldn’t think of what to say to this. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so enraged over something that had happened so long in the past. That it was possible to feel so much hatred toward a dead man I’d never met. I know Marcus had forgiven him, and that I should too. But right now, the wounds were too fresh. The emotions warred out in my mind, fighting for supremacy before I finally turned to Marcus and slipped my arm around his waist. He looked up at me with in surprise, and my face softened with a tender smile.
“You are nothing, nothing like your father,” I said.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “You can’t know that. What if I snap? What if I start to—”
“I know you,” I said firmly, staring him right in the eyes. “You’re a good man, Marcus. Selfless. Kind. Exactly the kind of man I want to marry. Exactly the kind of man I want raising my child.”
His mouth opened, but for one of the first times, he could think of nothing to say. Instead, he finally just put his arm back around me and leaned us back against the bench. We stared up at the stars until the sky began to lighten in a soft, morning rose.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said quietly. I smiled into his chest and nestled even closer against his side. Together, we watched the brilliant sunrise.
Chapter 19
A jeweled belt cinched my waist. It was too big. The belt disappeared, and a new, smaller belt replaced it. Tatiana, the long-suffering woman handcrafting my dress shook her head in amazement. “For sake of Pete, woman, I thought you were supposed to be pregnant!”
For the tenth time that day, I shook my head with a smile and thanked my lucky stars that I had selected a designer straight from the heart of Moscow. While wedding dress fittings weren’t really my thing, her thick accent and complete bewilderment when it came to common colloquialisms was making for an incredibly entertaining morning.
“For sake of Pete, I told you,” I teased her back, “in America, we don’t start to show until nine months. Nyet!”
She poked me on purpose with a pin. “Very funny. I suppose like everyone else in your country, you speak just the one language? And for record, ‘nyet’ doesn’t mean nine in Russian.”
“…it sounds like it should.”
“I know.” She patted down the fabric distractedly. “I know.”
“How’s everything going in here?” Amanda bounced into the room with a delighted smile on her face. Instead of remaining by my side—a loyal, disinterested friend—she’d completely turned and hopped on my mom’s bandwagon. Suddenly, this wedding was the most exciting thing in the world to her.
“It goes,” Tatiana murmured, keeping her dilated eyes fixed on a misbehaving hemline. “It might go a lot faster if I was allowed to sew your friend’s mouth shut—just until the big day, of course.”
Amanda nodded seriously. “A lot of people have had that idea. Bex tends to evade them.”
“What have you been up to?” I asked, deflecting the potentially dangerous conversation.
“Just got fitted next door for my dress for the rehearsal party.” She held up a picture on her phone with a bubbling smile. “Look!”
In the sudden rush to get to the altar, we’d decided to save time by combining our engagement party with my bridal shower with our rehearsal dinner. Of course, Billings wanted to keep all three parties separate to capitalize on as much public revelry as possible, but on this point, both Marcus and I had put our foot down. We understood that to a certain extent, this wedding was going to be a social event—the size of the guest list reflected that—but we weren’t going to put on a spectacle just for the sake of it. The wedding was in four days; there would be just one party in between. And while the party was piggybacking onto what would traditionally be the rehearsal dinner, we’d also been able to ensure that the rehearsal itself would be just friends and family—the wedding party. The huge soiree would commence afterward.
And on that note…I still had some preparations to take care of myself.
“Actually.” I stepped off the fitting platform with a small frown. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Amanda’s face fell as she followed me out to the Champagne room, and she clutched her phone tightly against her chest. When I turned around to speak, she was ready for me.
“Okay, you hate it. Bex, I know it’s white—but it’s just the rehearsal dinner. I’m allowed to wear white just to the rehearsal dinner!”
It took me a minute to understand she thought this was about the dress she’d just shown me. “Oh…Mandi, no—”
“And I wasn’t planning on white to begin with, but did you see the thing?!” She stuck the picture in my face again. “How the hell is Barry going to be able to resist me in that ridiculous neckline? More like a naval line when you think about it.”
I fought back a smile. “Mandi, take a breath.”
“What!” Her face flushed in distress. “Do you never want me to have sex again?! Is that what this is about? Fine—forget the dress. I’ll just wear the fluffy purple one.”
“Will you be my maid of honor?” I asked.
She stopped mid-sentence and slowly lowered down off her toes. For a second, her eyes went wide and she just stared at me.
I bit my lip, nervous that she was angry with me for putting it off so long. It certainly hadn’t been my intention. Like I said—weddings were not my thing. And between trying to get “the wedding of the century” planned with four separate coordinators, Billings, and my mother, a few obvious things had somehow slipped through the cracks. I’d just assumed that Amanda would be standing up there with me. But when I woke up this morning, I realized I’d never officially asked her.
When a full minute passed, and she still hadn’t said anything, I tried again. “Are you okay? Look, don’t be mad, all right? I thought it was so obvious that I didn’t even think to make it official. But this morning, after I chased away that Ukrainian lady trying measure Marcus’s inseam, I realized that—”
“Yeeeeeeep!”
I blinked. It wasn’t a human sound. To be honest, I didn’t understand how it physically came from my friend.
“Maybe I should get you some more Champagne.” I turned to find a waiter—or at the least, a witness—but her hands shot out and stopped me.
“You’re asking me to be your maid of honor?”
She over-stressed the words in a really gooey way, and I rolled my eyes. “Amanda, of course you’d be my maid of honor. Who else would it possibly be?”
“Ah!” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Wait—no! Ask me again!”
I shook my head with a smile. “Will you be my—”
“Wait—hold my purse.” She thrust it into my hands and straightened out her hair like she was getting ready for an Olympic dive or something. “Okay…I’m ready.”
“…are you serious?”
“You’re right.” She looked panicked. “you shouldn’t be holding anything either!”
Before I could stop her, she snatched back her purse and my phone as well, and threw them both carelessly on the floor. The women passing out little flutes of bubbly cast each other knowing looks and I got the feeling this sort of thing happened more often than the rest of the world knew.
“Okay,” she said again with an anticipatory smile, “…go!”
I held back my laughter and took both her hands in my own. “Amanda Maureen Gates, will you, be my—”
“No—this isn’t fair!” Barry swept suddenly into the room, stopping the impromptu ceremony in its tracks. “You can kick me out of my bed, build a house for just the two of you in the middle of the city, and constantly—both—swear your undying love. But you are not proposing to my girlfriend just because you’re swept away by a wedding dress. There need to be some boundaries
, people!”
Amanda and I shared a quick look and started giggling—uncontrollably giggling. Much to the disdain of the overly-dignified helpers toting the cocktails. When we finally quieted down, I finished my sentence.
“…maid of honor?”
Barry collapsed into a chair with his hand over his heart. “Oh, thank goodness.”
We laughed again as Amanda threw her arms around my neck. “Of course I’ll be your maid of honor! To be honest…I kind of thought I already was.”
“I did too!” I exclaimed. “We just never made it official.” My eyes flickered over to the wilted professor. “Barry? You doing okay over there?”
“Marcus warned me,” he murmured, “warned me that one of you didn’t come without the other—kind of a packaged deal. But when I heard what you were saying the other night about the three of us banding together to help raise the baby… I feared the worst.”
I laughed again, but Amanda shot him a chiding frown. “Eavesdropping, Barry?”
“You know what they say about eavesdroppers, don’t you?” I added.
She folded her arms. “They go to hell.”
“No one says that,” a thick Russian voice interrupted us, “not in any country. Now Rebecca, unless you want to wear a slip with a belt up the aisle, I suggest you get your skinny ass back in my fitting room at once!”
I looked down in surprise to see that I was still wearing a thin negligée along with an overly embossed Swarovski crystal belt. My eyes flickered up self-consciously to Barry, but he just shook his head with a good-natured smile.
“Yesterday, Amanda took me with her shopping for Spanx. Nothing shocks me anymore.”
I stifled a giggle and followed my handler back to the fitting room, Amanda trailing happily behind. A dozen more women had assembled, each carrying an armful of fabric. As I took my place on the stand, each one began presenting their selection to Tatiana who responded with either a curt nod or a sharp shake of the head. The women who received shakes were never seen again.
“So who am I walking up the aisle with?” Amanda asked curiously, sipping on what had to be her third glass of Champagne.
“Take it easy on those,” I instructed sternly. “You two are helping me paint the nursery later today—I need you sharp.”
“Please,” she scoffed, “you should be apologizing. You’ve forced me to drink for the both of us.”
I chuckled and lifted my arms as two more women I didn’t know attacked with measuring tape. “You’re walking up with Max; he’s the best man.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” She threw a grin over her shoulder at Barry. “Sorry, honey, I guess if you want to walk down the aisle with me, you’re going to have to do it officially. No freebies.”
Barry smiled to himself. “I’ll keep that in mind. Besides,” he said a bit louder, “I’m already walking down the aisle…I’m escorting Becca’s terrifying mother.”
We started laughing again until we were suddenly interrupted by a shriek of Russian coming from the next room. Tatiana disappeared, and the next moment, her voice joined the fray.
“I’m scared to tell her if I don’t like something,” I muttered.
“You just tell her,” Barry said. “She works for you.”
“Are you kidding?” Amanda whispered back. “Like anyone would be brave enough to take her on?” There was a crash, and she jumped. “I’m thinking…hand-to-hand combat.”
But it turned out someone was brave enough. A moment later, Marcus stuck his head through the curtains, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Rebecca? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I automatically covered what little I was wearing of the gown, and I heard Tatiana slap the back of his head as a warning.
“I’m not looking!” he insisted. “Please, Bex. Just for a second.”
I cast Amanda a worried look before wrapping myself in my coat and tripping down to meet him by the curtain. “Okay, you can open your eyes,” I said in a private undertone. “Now what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
He nodded quickly—a little too quickly—and pulled me out to the same Champagne room I’d just been in with Amanda a moment before.
“I just wanted to say…I’m going to miss the nursery setup today.”
My heart sank, but I kept a straight face. “Okay…why?”
“Takahari called. After my announcement to the press the other morning…he called an emergency meeting.”
Anyone else might have believed his casual demeanor, but I knew better. I reached for his hand in horror and squeezed it tightly in my own. “Honey…shit, I’m so sorry.”
He flashed me a tight, but genuine smile. “I don’t care either way. I have my family.” His eyes softened for a moment as he kissed first me, then my stomach. “That’s all that matters.”
I melted a little but shook my head. “But if the merger—”
“If it tanks, it tanks. Either way, we’ll know by this evening.” He checked his buzzing phone with a frown. “That’s Billings. I gotta go. But have fun today. Sorry I’m going to miss it.”
I held onto his hands as he tried to leave. “Marcus, I…”
“Hey,” he swooped in for another kiss, “I have what matters.”
Before he could say another word, he flashed me a wink and vanished outside, leaving me to stew in the endless repercussions of what might happen today.
Chapter 20
As tense as the day might have been, it was jam-packed so full, it didn’t leave much time for stewing. After finishing up with the dress fitting, Amanda and I met with the hair stylists, picked up our dresses for the party, finalized the seating arrangement, and settled on a cake. All that was before we stopped into a Home Depot to browse through paint colors for the nursery. In the end, we settled on a mild, sunshiny yellow. Good for a girl, or a boy.
“I can’t believe you want to be surprised,” Amanda said yet again. We had set up in a huge room next to my old guestroom and were spreading out the painting supplies. A flimsy looking ladder was propped up against a window, and she and I were slowly rolling out a drop cloth. “If it was me, I’d want to know immediately. You couldn’t tell me fast enough.”
“Well, I didn’t say I wanted to be surprised,” I said with a sly grin. “Marcus’s grandmother wants to be, and so do my parents.”
She cocked a brow. “Wait. Do you know what you’re having?”
Barry strode into the room with an armful of rollers and brushes. He dropped them in the middle of the cloth with a huge sigh. “I can’t believe with all of your resources, you don’t want to hire a decorator for the nursery.”
I popped a lid off one of the paint cans and swirled my brush inside. “Nope,” I said firmly, “this is my first act of motherhood. Other than the conception, that is. I’m decorating this room and no one’s going to stop me.”
Amanda and Barry cocked their heads and looked at me speculatively.
“And…it’s a perfect excuse to escape this endless wedding mania,” Barry said.
They burst out laughing. “There it is.” Amanda chuckled.
Barry set down his toolbox. “So, are you going to continue to act? Or just be one of those rich housewives, like on television?”
“I’m not giving up my career,” I said. “We’ve talked about it. Marcus wants me to keep pursuing my dreams once the baby is born. I didn’t decide to act so I could be rich and famous or become a household name. I did it because I was good at it. And I enjoy the theater arts. I wanted to do something that made me happy. And acting is something I really love and enjoy. I’m thinking about specializing in theater.”
“You’d be perfect.”
“Thank you, Barry.”
“Bex is very gifted. She was born with the creative gift to entertain. I know she’ll be a huge success,” Amanda said.
“Right back at ya, girl.”
She smiled.
We spend the next five or six hours happily transforming Marcus’s sterile guestroom into a b
right and undeniably adorable nursery. I’d picked out a woodland creatures sort of theme, and the three of us decorated and accessorized to our hearts’ content. Barry was in the middle of the floor trying to piece together a crib when there was a commotion from downstairs. We paused long enough to hear a booming laugh, and the next second, Max pushed open the door.
“You’re here!” I ran over and jumped into a huge hug, forgetting the fact that I was covered in smudges of canary yellow.
He glanced down at his clothes sadly and shook his head. “You know, I don’t care if you do get married and become a mom all in one year—you’re always going to be an insufferable little dork to me.”
I laughed and led him by the hand into the middle of the room. “Max, you remember Barry?”
“Of course.” He smiled and shook his hand. “So…woodland creatures, huh?” He nodded to Amanda. “I got your text.” Without another word, he stripped off his shoes and jacket and approached the far wall like a matador walking out into the arena. “Stand back,” he murmured, surveying his target. Then he held out his hand. “I’m going to need paint, six brushes of varying size…and whiskey.”
* * *
“Oh my gosh, Max…it’s beautiful!”
It what seemed like an impossibly short amount of time, Max had covered an entire wall of the bedroom in a breathtaking forest mural. Waterfalls, magical creatures, swirling vibrant colors…it was a wonderland. Max was an amazing painter. It was so special that my baby’s Uncle Max had designed this amazing room.
“That’s right where the crib’s going to go,” I whispered, my eyes welling up with tears.
Max caught me in a one-armed hug. “Don’t go getting all weepy and hormonal on me. It was the least I could do for my little niece…or nephew.” He gave me a twinkling, inquisitive look. “You know already, don’t you?”
