Thousand Yard Bride

by Nora Flite

  When the big day rolled around, I felt like I was in the middle of some kind of drug-induced dream. I was sitting there with Lanie in a conference room that the Haven Oaks Club had turned into a bride’s dressing room.

  The stylists were busy working on my “dewdrop princess” look, a thing I didn't understand and couldn't have even tried on my own. But I did love the results.

  I'd decided to keep my hair down, mostly because I knew Hunter liked it. They'd managed to make it shiny and smooth, only a few pieces fighting the straightener and curling defiantly. The stylist pinned in a delicate tiara over a lace veil that covered the back of my hair. “Voila,” he said. “Perfection.”

  “Let me see,” Lanie gushed from behind me. She was sitting on the conference table drinking champagne, unaffected by the wedding pre-jitters.

  Standing, I moved around the stylists and did a careful spin for my sister. “Well, what do you think?” My attempt to sound calm failed utterly.

  “Oh my gosh, Jo. You look perfect.” Lanie was never one to cry, so when tears started rolling down her cheeks, I was surprised.

  “Lanie! Get it together!" I giggled, sounding insane. Maybe I was insane. What the hell was I doing getting married? "If you fall apart, I fall apart, and then the photographer’s going to have to spend a lot of time and effort Photoshopping our tears out of all the wedding pictures.”

  She shook her head violently. “Gorgeous. And I’m totally jealous of your tiara. Why can’t the maid of honor wear a tiara?”

  “Just be happy Victoria let you pick your dress!” I said, admiring my sister in her simple but chic silver A-line strapless gown. “You look great.”

  “Thanks, sis, but you’re the main event. You’re actually radiant."

  I hoped Hunter would think so, too. I said, “Alright, alright. Enough with the compliments. My head’ll get so big the tiara won’t fit.”

  “That’s all part of my evil plan, actually," she cackled.

  I looked in the mirror again and it suddenly hit me. I was marrying Hunter. It was real. Just because the marriage was an idea concocted by Hunter's father to protect his family and his son's reputation didn't make it any less real. I was going to be his wife. This was it.

  “Well, looks like our work here is done,” the stylist said. Then he and the makeup artist stepped out of the room.

  I turned to Lanie. “Am I doing the right thing?” I asked my sister.

  “You know what? I think you are. And if it flops . . . you get a divorce when people aren't watching too closely."

  “That’s kind of sad. Mom and Dad never got divorced.”

  Lanie gave me a hug. “Yeah. I know. They were great together. It’s not fair they aren’t here to see you today, sis. But then again, maybe they are.”

  I held my sister close, willing my eyes to stay dry for the sake of my makeup and so that Lanie and I didn't become inconsolable blubbering messes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m glad that you know the truth about all of this, and you’re still supporting me anyway. I couldn't do this without you.”

  “I just want you to be happy. That’s all that counts. Be happy.”

  “I am, Lanie. I can’t believe it, but I actually am,” I said as I touched my tiara, feeling the delicate veil underneath it.

  All of a sudden, her eyes got very narrow. "Oh. Wait. Are you actually in love with him? Is it not just about his super-cock and your career anymore?"

  Flushing, I stammered, "It was never about his—what, his super what?"

  "Super-cock," she said calmly, just as the wedding planner walked in.

  Gawking at us, she shook herself quickly, obviously pretending she hadn't heard us. “It’s time! And we added some last minute swans! Hunter’s mum’s idea!”

  It turned out that Victoria had stopped at nothing to make the area into a stunning venue. In addition to swans, there were about ten times as many flowers lining the rows of seats as necessary. Fairy lights were strung over the chairs, and there were candles everywhere.

  A walkway covered in flower petals led from the archway by the patio to the green grass where Hunter stood in his tailored-for-him silvery-gray suit. As soon as our eyes met, a wave of delight moved through me.

  I'd expected to walk down the aisle to the traditional “Here Comes the Bride,” but when I heard the string quartet start playing “My Heart Will Go On,” I knew that Hunter had put his own stamp on our wedding day. No one else knew about our secret love for Titanic.

  I walked towards Hunter, and while he beamed at me, Reese—his best man—was grinning just as much. I wondered if it was because of me, or if he just thought Lanie looked fantastic. She said into my ear, "Rawr. Reese looks yummy."

  My smile got bigger—tighter—as I held in my giggle.

  The music faded, the crowd on the grass settling into their wooden chairs. I didn't know most of them, but the few that I did I was glad to have. Hunter smiled down at me, brushing my fingers and ignoring all pretense of behaving. "You look amazing," he said softly.

  Lanie took my flowers, tapping Hunter's hand and making a scolding face. Everyone saw, the rumble of chuckles polite and kind. Only Hunter's dad seemed put out by the display. Screw him, this was our wedding, no matter how it came to be.

  I looked into Hunter’s eyes while the priest led the ceremony. Most of what was said went over my head. Hunter made it too easy to get lost in his wicked smile, and when he took my hands in his, caressing the gaps between, it was electric—erotic, somehow.

  Then everyone was staring at me. Crap. It's my turn to speak. Clearing my throat, I said, "I didn't prepare any vows. I . . . uh, well, I don't know what to even say."

  "I do," Hunter chuckled, tugging me closer. My heart stumbled in my chest. "Jo, when I first met you . . ." I was terrified he was about to give away the game and reveal our hook up. "I was stunned. You weren't just beautiful, but you were smart enough to know I was bad news."

  He winked, I flushed, and the crowd laughed again.

  Hunter lowered his voice—I leaned in. "Even so, you fell for my charm. You gave me a chance. I'm so happy we're together. I couldn't imagine life any other way. To put it your

  way . . . I'm satisfied."

  I filled from top to bottom with dizzying joy. He kept me on my feet, and I managed to fumble through saying "I do" when the priest asked me if I would take Hunter to be my faithful husband.

  It was Hunter's turn. I felt the audience pause, a heavy moment where several probably expected him to back out and run fleeing from me, the ultra-round pregnant bride.

  “I do,” he said, the words sliding out with ease. It made my heart flutter, my stomach tensing as it felt a drumming resonating inside.

  Was that the baby kicking? I marveled.

  Taking his hand, I pushed it to my belly. Hunter lifted an eyebrow, asking what I was doing. Together, we felt the second little thud. His gasp was audible—cameras flashed as the photographers captured the moment Hunter felt his baby move.

  Lanie had been sniffling, but when she realized what was going on, she started to bawl. Reese pulled her close, comforting her as the crowd dabbed their eyes. Hunter looked down on me, and I swear, his amber pools were ready to spill over, too.

  It was such an intense moment, then it was over in a flash. The ceremony had only lasted half an hour.

  It took much longer to pose for the damn wedding photos.

  If swans, flowers, and candles were a little over the top, then the reception was off the charts. Three times as many people as were invited to the ceremony had tickets to the reception, which Victoria had turned into a formidable society event.

  Everyone who was anyone was in attendance. From sports stars present and past, to TV and movie celebrities, to politicians, to people who I didn't recognize but were probably important, my wedding reception was a who’s who of the richest people in the country.

  Fortunately, my number one job was to dance and look happy, and I couldn't wait to do that. As long as I kicked up
my heels and kept a grin on my face, the reporters I planted would take care of the rest.

  While we were being photographed by both the press I had invited and by Victoria’s professional photographer, Hunter and I weren’t able to speak freely. Instead we basically made googly eyes at each other and kissed a lot, which was not a terribly hard task given how great Hunter looked.

  Was it crazy to think that this could be a real happy ending?

  After the last camera clicked, Hunter and I made our way to the outside of the club's ballroom. Everyone was waiting on the other side of those huge double doors, which were closed in order to reveal us when the master of ceremonies, one of Hunter’s dad’s pals, announced our arrival.

  Hunter took my left hand, squeezing it gently. “This is it,” he said. One more kiss for good luck?” I looked around and saw that there were no photographers nearby. They were all waiting for our grand entrance. At this one unique moment, there wasn't anyone to watch us, to photograph us, to write a headline or even a Tweet about it.

  It was just about us.

  Standing on tiptoe, I ran my mouth along his. Our skin clung together, a bolt of lightning passing between our bodies. Hunter groaned, his hands mauling my ass through my dress. "I can't wait to tear this off of you," he whispered.

  Hiking it high, he ignored my gasp, searching for the gap between my thighs. My lashes were heavy from all the mascara, it was too easy to rest them on my cheeks and let him feel for my pussy.

  Then the ballroom doors swung open, the orchestra music playing, all eyes on us. We heard the cheers of the crowd, the warning not enough to save us from those who'd been watching closely. Jumping back, I shoved my dress down and turned a lovely shade of tomato.

  Camera bulbs flashed, the room full of people clapping. Some of the Hawks even yelled, “Eighty-three! Eighty-three!” as though Hunter had just scored a touchdown. He looked pretty pleased, not caring we'd been caught in such an obscene pose.

  The M.C. played up the moment, laughing into the mic as he said, “Look at these crazy kids. They couldn’t even wait for me to announce them. That’s true love if I ever saw it. Shall we try this again? Here we go, welcome to the ballroom, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter Daniels Junior! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the newlyweds!”

  The room went wilder than before. I didn’t think that fancy rich people hooted and hollered, but I was wrong. We could have been at a Hawks game the way the room was reacting to us.

  After the cheering tapered off, it was time for our first dance as a couple. My heart pounded as the music started playing. It was a softer rock ballad than most wedding songs—a little rough, a little smooth, and entirely like Hunter Daniels.

  I let myself fall into him. As we swayed together, I realized it was the first time we'd danced together since the Standard. That time, we'd ground together like sweaty animals. This was sweeter . . . but somehow more intimate.

  When the band played the next song, the M.C. invited everyone to join in on the dance floor.” It filled up, and after one more slow song, the music picked up the beat.

  Though I was laughing and cheering, my feet started aching. “Do you mind if I sit the next one out?” I asked Hunter. "I think the baby-weight is making my poor feet lose their endurance."

  Lanie walked over, her hair already falling out of the up-do. "If you're stepping out, I'll cut in. How about it, Mister Joanne Cooke?” she asked.

  Bowing dramatically, Hunter took her hand. "If you can keep up."

  I took my seat at the head table and watched my sister and Hunter as they bounced together. It was a fast song, and they were both laughing and dancing—Lanie was clearly enjoying the antics of my gigantic football player husband, since she was a much better dancer.

  Lanie caught my eye, and we smiled at each other. Leaning back, I took a slow breath, allowing the stress of the wedding to fade away.

  “Congrats, bride," a voice said near me.

  My back became an iron rod. "Poppy?" I asked, twisting around.

  She was stunning in a tight gold gown. She had a half-empty champagne flute in one hand and a crystal clutch in the shape of a butterfly in the other. Dropping next to me, she leaned in close; her breath reeked of alcohol. “So, tell me, how long did it take you to get knocked up with Hunter’s kid? Day one? That’s your secret, right?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked as my eyes darted around, checking for any lurking media people. I didn't like where this was going.

  “Oh you know,” Poppy continued, saccharine. “You got pregnant just so you could bag Hunter. He’d never be marrying someone like you otherwise. What did you do, poke a hole in the condom? Conveniently forget to take your birth control?”

  I couldn't believe she had the nerve to accuse me of something like that, much less at my own wedding. "Back off."

  "You still haven't asked him about the Bahamas, have you?"

  Not wanting to give into Poppy’s insanity, I shoved my chair back and rose to my sore feet. I wanted to reach Hunter, but before I could, his father intercepted me.

  “No frowning at your own wedding, Joanne,” he scolded. “That part comes later.” He seemed he was set on making me feel worse. I wasn't going to let him.

  “It’s just nerves,” I said as brightly as possible, forcing a smile back on my face.

  Like a snake, his arm constricted on my middle. He had us on the dance floor, whirling me without giving me a moment to stop him. In my ear, his hot breath burned. “It looks like you played your part well."

  I wanted nothing more than to break free, but everyone was looking at us, probably thinking that we were having a sweet bonding moment. “Thank you.” I kept my cool as we kept dancing. “And thank you for the lovely day, Mr. Daniels. Doesn’t Hunter look so happy?”

  “He’s happy to stay on the Hawks, Joanne,” he said matter-of-factly. I felt my heart deflate. "Don't go getting naive, Joanne. This spectacle is about Hunter's future. Nothing more."

  He was right. This wedding wasn’t about me and Hunter, it was about Hunter’s career and the P.R. mess that this baby would have caused.

  As much as I didn't want to, Mr. Daniels Senior and I continued dancing. I watched Poppy out of the corner of my eye as she made her way towards us. I wondered if she was planning to ‘expose’ my evil baby plot to Mr. Daniels Senior. If so, she’d have quite a rude awakening when he didn’t act shocked or upset.

  Lanie tapped Hunter’s dad on the shoulder and flashed a big smile. “I just danced with your son, and now I must dance with the father of the groom. I'm a such a big fan of yours! That arm is something else,” Lanie gushed, lying through her teeth. “You don’t mind if I steal him away, do you, bride?” Lanie asked.

  “He’s all yours,” I said sweetly.

  Stepping away, I scanned the busy room. I needed to find Poppy. I was tired of letting her push me around, and if she was going to try and expose me and Hunter as fakers, I needed to cut that off before it got far.

  Then I saw her.

  Poppy was struggling with Hunter, trying to get her arms around him. It was clear he was fighting with her, working to get free while not hurting the drunk woman in the process.

  Inhaling sharply, I approached them. Poppy spotted me, squealing out, “There you are, Jo! I was just telling Hunter here how terrible it would be for him if everyone found out the truth about you two.” She tightened her arms around his neck. “Nothing says classy press like an emergency wedding, but I’m sure you already know th—”

  “Poppy,” Hunter said. “You’re out of line. This is Jo’s day. If you can’t be respectful—”

  “Bullshit. This should be my day, Hunter,” Poppy interrupted, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. I couldn't tell if she had been practicing her fake crying or if she was actually upset. "Tell her about the Bahamas. Go on!"

  A dagger began to slice through my arteries. "I don't care about that," I said.

  Her wicked smile went bigger. "I'll tell you, then you will."r />
  "Poppy, stop this. Your lies aren't going to wreck how I feel for her."

  "It isn't a lie!"

  "It is!" he growled. "You can't handle the fact that it was you who messed us up, can you? You thought I cheated on you—"

  "Because you did!" she cried out.

  Hunter glowered at her. "No. You misunderstood. You called me and heard what you wanted to hear. You never trusted me, that was why you always snooped in my stuff, too." She'd gone quiet, a silent bomb ready to blow up.

  I knew Hunter had taken a trip to the Bahamas for some sponsor, I'd dug that up, but had that really been what had spiraled Poppy out of control and made her cheat on him? She thought she was retaliating?

  She must have thought she'd get even . . . and then they'd get back together. My blood ran cold—I felt terribly sad for her, even if she was out to ruin my life.

  Poppy was giving me a dirty sneer. I was waiting for the song to end, so Hunter could get her off the dance floor, out of the spotlight. The last thing we needed was for someone to see us manhandling Poppy—it might give her claim about the accidental pregnancy credit.

  The song just kept going, though, and Poppy wouldn't peel herself off of Hunter. “Just admit it, Hunter. Admit that this marriage is a sham and I’ll go away. I just need to hear the truth.”

  Hunter looked around to see if anyone had overheard her. “The truth is, Poppy, I need to dance with my new bride." He pushed at her less gently, breaking free. Her stunned expression was worth all of her drunken trouble.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, kissing me. Poppy spoke loudly, stomping her foot like a spoiled kid. “The world will find out about you. One way or another!” She stormed off, throwing her clutch down as she went. It sat on the floor like a glittering piece of roadkill.

  When the song ended, he leaned away, sighing. "I'm sorry. I don't know how she even got in here."

  “It was my idea to invite her,” I admitted, feeling like an idiot. “I thought it would look good if she was here. Like you two had moved past everything. In fact, I’d hoped she would move past everything, maybe get some closure. Guess I was wrong. Don’t worry, I can handle it.”