by Lexie Ray
I laughed. “I’m glad I’m helping you find your soul.”
Ash’s giggle was infectious. “I’d also like to bring a colleague in on this. He’s one of the foremost doctors in burns. Is that all right with you?”
“Of course,” I said. “That would be wonderful.”
“Michelle, it was such a pleasure,” Ash said, helping me stand as he did so himself. “Please speak to the receptionist out front, and we’ll schedule an appointment. Let’s do this! Let’s take your life back.”
I felt so excited that I actually hugged him before leaving. I trusted this man, and I looked forward to the procedure. Who knew? Maybe I could get it done before the wedding. I’d look like a different person in all the photos.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the cold, bracing air. This was really going to happen. This was me, taking my life back.
“Michelle?”
I turned and my eyes widened.
“Jonathan?” Chicago really could be like a small town sometimes, especially if you moved in certain circles.
He grinned as he approached me. “What are you doing out?” he asked.
“I could ask the same of you,” I said, suddenly realizing that I didn’t want to tell him about the surgery. He’d think I was weak, that I couldn’t deal with the scar anymore.
“I met a client for lunch not too far from here,” he said. “I decided to walk back to the office—the sun’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, taking his hand and trying to yank him discreetly away from the building I’d just exited.
I failed miserably. Jonathan craned his neck and peered at the sign, then stopped dead in his tracks.
“What did you say you were doing here?” he asked, keeping his tone calm and even.
“I didn’t say,” I said meekly.
“Uh-huh. Are you going to say now?”
“Do I have to?”
“Uh-huh.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Jane said she knew a really good plastic surgeon. I just went for a consultation about my—my scar.”
Jonathan hissed through his teeth. “Jane suggested that you fix your face?”
He was so angry that it scared me. “No,” I said. “I was upset, trying on wedding dresses. She assumed—correctly—that it was about my scar, and suggested Ash Martin. I liked him.”
“You liked him?” Jonathan repeated, incredulous.
“Um, he’s gay,” I said. “I liked how honest he was. He seems really positive about the surgery.”
“Baby, I don’t want you to have surgery,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want anybody cutting on you. You’re perfect the way you are. Haven’t I told you that? You’re beautiful, Michelle. This is who I fell in love with, the girl with this face. This is who I’ll always be in love with—the girl with this face.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. “I just want to be beautiful for you for the wedding,” I said, leaving out the realization I’d had with Ash about the scar’s connection to my parents.
“You already are beautiful,” Jonathan said, walking away from the doctor’s offices with me. Our reflections were mirrored in the glass of the building. “Do you believe me?”
“I believe that you think I’m beautiful,” I said. “But sometimes, I don’t believe that I’m beautiful when I look in a mirror.”
“Then you always need to imagine my voice in your ear,” Jonathan said, leaning close. “You’re beautiful, Michelle. You’re so beautiful.”
I laughed as we walked along, leaning against him.
“If it means that much to you, I won’t get the surgery,” I said. “I thought it would be a surprise wedding present.”
“The best wedding present of all is that you are going to be my wife,” he said. We passed by some shops, all with artfully designed front windows. One of them caught my eye.
“Wait,” I said, stopping in my tracks and yanking Jonathan back. “Wait, wait.”
“We’re not going back to the doctor’s office,” he said, his tone of voice stern.
“No, of course not,” I said. “Look. Just look at that.”
We stood in front of a boutique window, and there was my dress. It was my dress. I hadn’t been certain that this moment would ever come, but I realized what everyone had been talking about now.
“What are we looking at?” Jonathan asked, confused, as people passed around us.
“We’re looking at the dress I’m going to be wearing when I marry you,” I said. “Just look at it.”
It looked glorious, hanging perfectly from the mannequin. It was floor-length champagne-colored silk edged with lace that ended in a miniscule train that looked like it flowed all around where my feet would be. A satin bow cinched the waist in as the neckline plunged in a deep “V.” It was sleeveless, but the lacy overlay came up and over the shoulders.
“We’re going inside,” I said, dragging Jonathan along behind me.
“Isn’t it bad luck for me to see your dress beforehand?” he asked.
“We saw it together,” I said, looking around the boutique wildly. “It’s a sign, Jon. This is my dress, and I was supposed to see it with you.”
I was a little confused. The boutique catered to party dresses, not weddings. Perhaps that was why I’d been having such a hard time identifying with any of the other dresses I’d tried on. Maybe I’d been looking in the wrong places this whole time.
“I have to try that dress on,” I said when an attendant approached us, pointing at the mannequin. “Please. That’s going to be my wedding dress.”
I knew it was going to fit the moment I was in the dressing room with it. These things didn’t just happen. I didn’t just find Jonathan in the woods. We were brought together. We were meant to be, and this dress was another sure sign.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Jonathan’s wide grin matched my own.
“You’re going to be my wife,” he said, picking me up and twirling me around in my wedding gown.
“Hell, yes,” I said, kissing him deeply.
The holidays whirled by. Collier and Amelia went on a Mediterranean cruise, and Jane met some girlfriends in Cabo San Lucas. Jonathan and I enjoyed a big, quiet house all to ourselves, sitting by the fireplace in the den on the first floor, curled up by the Christmas tree.
“You know, we’re going to be married soon,” he said, tracing patterns on my back as I went over my class load on the iPad.
“I’ll be starting classwork before we tie the knot,” I murmured, absorbed in the syllabus for environmental science.
“Ah, spurned for education,” Jonathan said wistfully.
“That’s right,” I said, pulling the cover over the iPad and leaning over to kiss him. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No way,” he said. “I only wish we could’ve managed everything you’d wanted for our wedding.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I know it’s going to be beautiful.”
“Everything” had been having the wedding at the cottage. But with Amelia and Collier and Jane’s endless guest lists, as well as the business contacts Jonathan thought he should invite as a show of goodwill, there was no way the cottage could sustain everything. It was just too remote.
We were going with the next best thing—a large park just outside the city that would accommodate our hundreds of guests.
“Amelia’s actually been pretty good about arranging everything,” I said.
“Are you keeping her in line?” Jonathan asked, burying his face in my neck as he kissed me.
“I’m mostly letting her have her way,” I said. “Peace on earth and all of that.”
“Merry Christmas, baby,” Jonathan said, kissing me and kneading my breasts beneath my sweater.
“Stop,” I said, my eyes darting around. “Someone could see us.”
“No one’s here,” Jonathan said, continuing his blithe explorations of my body.
“I don’t mean your family,” I s
aid, batting his hands away. “I mean Lucy or Winston or someone.”
“I sent them all home,” he said. “It’s the holidays, after all.”
“Has that ever been done before?” I asked, laughing incredulously. It would seem like the Whartons would want even more luxury surrounding themselves this time of year.
“Apparently not,” he said, shrugging. “They said it was the best Christmas bonus they could’ve wished for. I said it was the best present they could give me—an empty house with the woman who’s going to be my wife.”
I gasped. “Does this mean—even the chef is gone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“To the kitchen!” I yelled, barreling off the couch.
We explored unabashed, two children set loose for a night. I fixed us a dinner—my first time cooking since I’d come to the city—and it was like a limb that had been long asleep coming back to life. It was therapeutic and delicious.
Then, as a Christmas gift to both of us, we began to see just how many places we could have sex in before we couldn’t bear another thrust.
He kissed my neck by the fireplace in the den, ravished me on the pool table in the game room, took off my sweater and left it on the dining room table as he massaged my back, and pulled my leggings off on the stairs, spanking me playfully as I scampered up to get away from him.
He brought me to the edge of orgasm in the elevator, riding up and down, then claimed me for his own over the surface of his desk. We finally came together on the bathroom floor, rolls of towels surrounding us, before heaving ourselves into the shower.
“Best damn Christmas I’ve ever had,” Jonathan groaned, both of us barely able to stand.
“You don’t know that,” I reminded him, my head balanced on his shoulder.
“No, I’m sure of it,” he said. “But next Christmas will be even better.”
“How’s that?” I asked. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to beat this record.”
“Next Christmas you’ll already be my wife,” he said, kissing me.
“Sooner than you think,” I said, smiling.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Everything was just perfect on the day of the wedding. Jane had told me not to worry about a thing, and so I was doing my best. As much as Amelia didn’t like me, she was a control freak about events. She had everything well in hand, from the band to the caterer to the guests.
Since it was her plan, Jonathan and I had kind of just let her have at it. I didn’t really care that neither of us knew the vast majority of the guests. I was going to get married to my true love.
After the first of the year, the months had flown by. I learned quickly that I couldn’t worry about anything—it stressed me out too badly. I simply focused on my classes and gave my input about the ceremony, reception, and food when asked.
At the wedding, Rowan had me styled and in my dress nearly thirty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start.
“I thought we’d have more of a problem,” she said. “You don’t understand, honey. I style a ton of bridezillas.”
I laughed. “You thought I was going to be a bridezilla? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I had to plan for that contingency,” Rowan said, kissing me on both my cheeks. “You look amazing. Simply amazing.”
“I hope you’d say that about your own work,” I teased, feeling overjoyed and not in the least bit nervous.
“So who’s giving you away?” Rowan asked. “Everything I used is waterproof, so boo-hoo away, honey. Is your dad a big crier?”
I’d never seen my father cry. My memories of him were of laughter. I wondered how he would have behaved if he had been alive to walk me down the aisle.
“Collier’s giving me away,” I said, my smile a couple of watts dimmer. “I don’t think he’ll cry.”
“No, he doesn’t seem like the type, does he?” Rowan mused. “You want me to bring Jane in?”
I could hear Jane laughing outside the tent with some of the friends she’d gotten to invite. I was just relieved that I had been able to stand up for myself and insist on only having a maid of honor and a best man—Jane and Brock. I didn’t want a big wedding party, and I’d even managed to dodge the bachelorette party.
“You know, I think I’d like to be alone until the ceremony,” I said. I didn’t think I could face Jane and her cackling. I was sure she’d insist on her friends joining us for the festivities in the bridal tent, anyways.
“Sure thing, honey,” Rowan said, smiling at me a little too knowingly. “I’m sure she’ll let you know when it’s time.”
When I was alone, I took a good, long look at myself. Jonathan had talked me out of plastic surgery, but Rowan had done her magic with the airbrush. I looked very close to flawless and very much a bride. The dress really was the one—and had been well worth the wait.
What was missing, of course, was my family. If only my parents could’ve been here to see their daughter grow up. My eyes shimmered with tears, and single fat droplet rolled down my cheek. I grimaced as I lunged for a tissue, soaking it up before it could splash on my dress. True to her word, Rowan’s makeup stuck to me like glue. There would be no smearing today.
I really wanted to be with Jonathan right now. I knew the groom’s tent was adjacent to the bride’s tent. I knew that if I asked for him, I’d get fussed at. I didn’t understand what the big deal was about seeing the bride in her dress before the ceremony. He was going to be my family. I wanted him.
I sneaked a peek out the side door of the tent. There were only service workers on this side, running flower arrangements and gauzy bows to the seating area. Farther away was the kitchen tent. Already, yummy smells were wafting their way to me on the cool breeze. I could see the side entrance to the groom’s tent from where I was. Would anyone try to stop me?
Padding along in my comfy flats—thank God I had been able to stick up for them against Jane’s pick of mile-high strappy stilettos—I arrived at the side door and poked my head inside.
“Look, divorce isn’t that big of a deal anymore,” Brock was saying. “If it doesn’t work out, I’m just saying that you have plenty of options.”
“You’re so fucking morbid, man,” Jonathan said. “I’m not worried that it’s not going to work out. This is the real deal. I’ve just got nerves, is all. Now, shut the fuck up and pour me a drink.”
I ducked away as Brock walked to another side of the tent, then poked my head back in.
“Hey,” I stage whispered.
Jonathan looked up immediately and brightened up considerably. He gave a quick glance in Brock’s direction before hurrying over to the door.
“Where you going, man?” Brock asked.
“Fuck off for a while,” Jonathan said over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”
Then, he was out of the tent, and we were safe on the service side of the wedding. We got a few sidelong glances, but no one told us anything.
“What are you doing here, baby?” Jonathan asked, looking at me up and down, his eyes wide. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You don’t look half bad yourself,” I said, smiling at his bowtie. He looked so good in a tuxedo. “I just wanted to see you.”
“They say it’s bad luck,” Jonathan teased, kissing me lightly.
“I wanted to be with you,” I said. “You’re all that matters to me. Bad luck can go right to hell.”
“Language, my future Mrs. Wharton,” he chided, kissing me again.
“So, thinking about a divorce already?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.
“Ugh, you heard that?” Jonathan asked. “Fucking Brock. Thank you for saving me from him.”
“He’s a charmer, that one,” I laughed.
Jonathan held me in his arms and kissed me again. “I think he’s mostly harmless,” he said. “You look beautiful in that dress. But can I confess something?”
“Anything.”
“I can’t wait to get it off of you once this is all over.”
“My husband, the romantic,” I mocked, rolling my eyes at him.
There were some faint strains of music coming from the kitchen tent, and we danced a little bit to them, pressing our torsos together, our hearts beating as one.
“I know what we should do,” Jonathan murmured, kissing my hair.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“We should run away,” he said, twirling me around slowly.
“Run away from our own wedding?” I asked, laughing. “You have my attention.”
“We’ll kidnap a priest or a judge or someone,” Jonathan continued, taking me in his arms again and rocking me slowly in time to the music drifting across the field.
“Go on.”
“And we’ll take them to the cottage,” he finished. “Get them to marry us there. Skip all of this bullshit. You’re in my arms and my heart, Michelle. The rest of this is just a formality. Just a little legal muscle to make it all kosher.”
“I’ve felt like that from the beginning,” I said, “when you first asked me to marry you there at the cottage. You never even had to give me this ring. You’ve had all of me from the very start, Jon.”
This, I told myself as we held each other close. This was why I was doing everything, jumping through all these hoops to try to please Amelia and do all the things regular brides were supposed to do. I just wanted to be with Jonathan. If making his family happy was part of that, then that was what I was going to do. He was the perfect man. I could never imagine loving anyone nearly as much as I loved him.
“You scandalous bitches!” Jane screeched from the bridal tent. “Just wait until I tell Mom!”
Jonathan and I parted, though it was difficult.
“You better not tell Mom!” Jonathan warned, shaking his fist at his sister. “I’ll tell her you were drunk before the ceremony!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Jane said, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
“Just like you wouldn’t dare to tell her that her precious wedding superstitions have been stepped on,” Jonathan said. “Behave yourself.”
“Likewise,” Jane said, tipping an imaginary hat at him.
