by Ava Miles
“I, Brian McConnell, take you, Jill Hale, to be my wife, my best friend, and my partner from this day forward. In the presence of God and our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to support you in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally…”
She let out a shaky breath, and he had to release the air trapped in his lungs.
“To support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”
Her hands squeezed his, and he leaned forward spontaneously until he could whisper in her ear, “And I promise not to be a jerk from here on out and to be the best daddy to the baby we’ve made.”
“Oh, Bri,” she whispered back. “And I promise to be the best mommy too and not to be such a drama queen sometimes.”
Now that made him laugh. “Only sometimes?”
She twisted his thumb a second, her shoulders shaking. “Life isn’t fun if it’s devoid of all drama.”
“If you say so, Red,” he said. The minister cleared his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder that they were veering off point.
When it came time for them to exchange rings, he slid the simple wedding band on her finger. He was in the process of opening his own restaurant, so he hadn’t been able to afford anything grand. It embarrassed him, particularly since he wanted to present her with the world on a silver platter. She’d dismissed his apologies with her usual flair, saying she wasn’t all about the flash. But he’d promised himself he would buy her something nicer once his restaurant became super successful, something he knew would happen.
Then he glanced up from her hand and noticed she was wearing the necklace he’d given her when they were eighteen, right after one of the worst fights of their life. It was the very fight that had shut her away from him for so many years. She looked so dazzling in her yellow gown that he’d somehow missed that tiny detail.
“You wore the necklace?” he whispered.
“Of course,” she whispered back like he’d asked the dumbest question possible.
“I love you, Jill,” he whispered, and the minister cleared his throat again.
When the minister finally declared them husband and wife and said it was time to kiss the bride, Brian was more than ready to do just that. Jill leaned into him, and he cuddled her close, aware of their baby growing bigger and bigger in her belly, even though it was probably the size of a pea right now.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she met him with fervor. The kiss must have lasted a bit longer than it was supposed to because soon the stupid minister was clearing his throat again. They were both laughing when they finally pulled away.
“Hello, wife,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello, husband,” she said, beaming right back at him. “Now let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
And with those words, they strode down the aisle hand in hand to the song Jill had insisted upon: “Happy Together” by The Turtles.
As they came to the last row, Jill let out a whoop. “We finally did it.”
Yes, he thought, they finally had.
He caught sight of Pete standing in the back pew. Their eyes locked, and his old friend inclined his chin in greeting. Brian returned the gesture, his heart squeezing. Then Jill was pulling him out of the church, laughing with abandon, and he had no choice but to follow.
Not that he would have resisted.
He’d follow her pretty much anywhere she wanted to go.
***
Surveying the reception, Jill was happy to see that their limited budget was far from obvious. Simple chalkboard signs with romantic sayings had been placed all around the church reception hall, creating the kind of fun, sappy mood they’d wanted. Okay, that she had wanted. Brian had gone along with it. One of the sayings caught her eye, and she actually teared up. Today I married my best friend. Yeah, she sure had.
The beer barrow was inspired—she didn’t care what anyone said. How fun was it to line a standard wheelbarrow with a bunch of microbrews? Not that she’d be drinking today. She wistfully eyed the espresso bar they’d set up for guests, manned by Margie Lancaster, her long-time friend and the new manager of Don’t Soy With Me. She’d designed two special drinks for the reception: a wicked raspberry mocha with whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings and a salted caramel latte that would make most people beg for more. Except for Grandpa Hale, who would inevitably make some crack about serving frou-frou coffee drinks at her own wedding.
Brian came up behind her and put his hand around her waist. “Sorry I disappeared. I was trying to find Pete.”
She’d seen their friend and felt…rather hollow. “I’m glad he came for you.”
He kissed her cheek. “He came for both of us. And that was a nice peace offering if you ask me.”
Her feelings toward Pete were more complicated now that Jemma was gone, so she only hummed in her throat. “Are you happy with the food? I know you popped into the kitchen to check on things.”
“I couldn’t help myself, but you’ll be happy to know I made sure to tug on an apron.”
She fingered the lapel of his jacket. “Be a shame to have this ruined with an oil stain.”
His brow rose. “Like you haven’t thought about helping Margie at our espresso bar.”
She had, but Margie would have pushed her off anyway. “She has everything under control.”
“Um-hum,” he said agreeably. “Let’s go take these pictures so we can start the party.”
The pictures were mostly annoying. Trying to get a picture where everyone was smiling was next to impossible, but Uncle Arthur kept cracking jokes, so it turned out to be more fun than expected.
When they finally re-entered the reception area, their guests were milling around the coffee station and makeshift bar. A huge cheer went up, and Jill felt herself flush at the attention. She was probably breaking out into spots, but hopefully her photographer would be able to Photoshop them out. They wove through the crowd, accepting hugs and kisses and congratulations. By the time Brian finally led her to the head table, she was starving.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning down to kiss her neck, and she shook her head as he walked off toward the kitchen.
Their custom mugs made her smile. Hers said Mrs. Dancing Queen and his said Mr. Dream Chef.
She turned to Meredith, who was already seated by her. “He just can’t help himself.”
Her sister laughed. “He’s in love. Savor it.”
Moments later, Brian brought out a plate of food for her and set it in front of her in grand style. In the corner of her plate, he’d written My Wife in the red pepper sauce he’d chosen for the beef entrée. She rested her head on his shoulder when he sat down beside her.
“You’re going to spoil me,” she said softly.
He rested his hand on her thigh under the table. “It’s a long night, and I’ve only just begun.”
Her insides heated. “Then I’d better make sure I have enough fuel.”
A server brought Brian his plate. “Dig in, Red. Everyone else is being served.”
The beef tenderloin Brian had been able to negotiate for a wonderful price tickled her nose. The haricot verts were bright green and dotted with slivered almonds. And of course, he’d chosen to pair them with a potato gratin with gruyere cheese.
“This smells like heaven.” She attacked her meal and didn’t look back. After all, she was eating for two now.
When it came time for the toasts, Meredith proved she was the best sister on the planet by standing up and saying, “Everyone wants to marry their best friend. Jill and Brian were closer than any two people I knew growing up. I’m so happy they’ve decided to share their lives together. And Brian—even though you have always been part of the Hale family—I want to give you an official welcome anyway. To Jill and Brian.”
The guests raised their champagne. She raised her sparkling water. And so t
he toasts continued until it was time to dance.
Jill had insisted that she be the one to select and communicate with the DJ, and Brian had been suspicious of her motives all week. She’d talked him into “You’re My Best Friend” by Queen for their first dance since he wouldn’t have to do much more than sway. He was still resisting her efforts to turn him into a Mr. Dancing King.
He took her in his arms and stared into her eyes, and she simply felt her heart fall at his feet.
“I love you,” she said, caressing the brown hair at the back of his neck.
“I love you,” he said back, a soft light in his eyes. “Both of you.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and happily swayed. When the dance ended, the DJ immediately launched into “Dancing Queen” by ABBA.
“Dammit, Jill,” he muttered. “You promised no tricks.”
Pressing away, she let her body start to move. “I couldn’t resist. I am Mrs. Dancing Queen after all. Come on. You know how to move to this.”
His groan was audible, but he started to dance nonetheless. Sure his movements were a bit awkward, and she found it endearing how his ears turned red as everyone joined them. But once they were surrounded by their family and friends, Brian settled down and got into his groove.
“You do know I’m praying our kid gets my dance moves,” she told him as they wove to a Michael Bublé favorite.
“Trust me. I am too… We’re so lucky, Jill.”
She kissed him on the mouth and had to stop herself from taking the kiss further. “We are.”
The dancing continued. At one point, they cut the coffee-and-cream wedding cake, and Jill didn’t even mind when he spread a little of the cake across her lips. The espresso mousse and coffee-infused cake were a ridiculous combination.
When it came time to throw the bouquet, all the single women clustered in the center of the dance floor. She turned her back to the crowd and heaved the bouquet back with all her might. When she turned around, she saw Peggy shoving the bouquet at her cousin, Natalie, who was laughing uproariously with her sisters, Caroline and Moira.
“Guess she didn’t want the bouquet,” Mac said to Brian, giving Jill a wink.
She blew her new boss a kiss. Working with him at her new job was going to be so much fun.
They danced some more. Sometimes, she mingled with her cousins. Once, she managed to talk Uncle Arthur into dancing with her to an old Dean Martin classic.
By the end of the night, her feet hurt from dancing and her face hurt from smiling, but she was happier than she could ever remember being. When Brian slid his hands around her waist, she could feel something different in his touch.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked her.
She looked up into his slumberous eyes. “Yep. Think we can get out of here?”
“If we have any trouble, I have an escape route planned through the kitchen.”
Now that made her laugh, mostly because he looked completely serious.
They said goodbye to her family and made their way out of the hall. They’d agreed they didn’t want to do a send-off or anything.
They drove to Aspen as the mountains slept in darkness. Their parents’ friends had offered them the use of their cabin so they could have a proper honeymoon. With Brian starting up his restaurant, her starting her new job, and them buying a house, they’d agreed to do something less expensive for now. All that mattered was that they were together.
When they pulled into the circular driveway of the cabin, Brian came around to her door. She was barely out of the car before he swept her off her feet and pretended she was too heavy to carry.
“You do know the baby is like the size of a gum ball,” she said in a playful huff.
“Must be all that cake you ate,” he responded with a twinkle in his eyes.
She tapped him on the back of the head for that, but somehow they managed to get inside the rustic cabin and find the light switches.
The entryway was covered in yellow rose petals, which extended up the hardwood stairs. Her heart squeezed.
“You did this?” she asked.
“I slipped away at daybreak,” he told her, taking her hand and caressing her wedding ring. “I wanted tonight to be special for you.”
She met his eyes. “It is special. You’re here.”
“Then let me light the candles and help you out of your dress,” he said in a husky tone.
“Throw in a foot massage, and I’m there.”
He laughed. “You’ve got it.”
She must have nodded off during the foot massage because she awoke to find yellow ribbons of sunlight shining in her eyes. Brian was passed out next to her, snoring softly.
She rubbed her eyes. God, how pathetic. She’d fallen asleep on her own wedding night. Well, she’d heard it happened more often than not.
As the sun rose on the first day of her life as Brian McConnell’s wife, she experienced the joy of waking up her new husband.
And he, in turn, showed her they would have many more lovely days of passion and fun and companionship.
He was, after all, her best friend and her husband now.
Peggy & Mac
Peggy McBride had never liked weddings. All the attention and the fuss was like getting a tooth pulled in her opinion. Her first wedding had been a simple errand to the courthouse with her intended, another no-nonsense police officer like her. Sure she’d worn a dress, but that had been about as much tradition as she’d allowed.
Her second wedding—and she still couldn’t believe she was saying that—was going to be at The Grand Mountain Hotel, owned by her fiancée, Mac Maven, a hotel mogul and a World Series of Poker champion. Mac was as smooth and charming as she was prickly. He dressed in tailored suits while she favored her green cotton deputy sheriff uniform. He liked bourbon while she usually chose beer.
On paper, they didn’t seem to fit, but he was the love of her life. Go figure.
He’d known her well enough not to suggest a big wedding. She’d jokingly suggested getting hitched in Vegas, to which he’d only raised one of his elegant dark brows. No, Mac was going to have a stylish wedding, surrounded by their small group of friends and family in Dare Valley.
Right now, she was pretty happy about the surrounded by friends and family part, if only because the presence of the Hale sisters was serving as a welcome distraction. She was trembling with nerves in her one-inch-heel wedding shoes, which actually had glitter on them. Glitter. How had she let Jill Hale talk her into that?
“Jill,” she told her friend, who was sitting in a white suede chair in the penthouse Mac had reserved for her use as a dressing room. “I’m still not sure these shoes are me. Why can’t I wear my plain old flats again?” Surely, it wasn’t too late to make a switch.
Jill set her glass of champagne down and exchanged a look with her sister, Meredith, who was also Peggy’s sister-in-law, preparing to tag-team her. She knew their strategy.
“Peggy,” Jill said in an aggrieved tone. “The ceremony will be starting soon. It’s too late to make a shoe change.”
“Besides,” Meredith added from her seat next to Jill on the couch, “the shoes add a little sparkle to your wedding ensemble since your dress is so classic.”
Classic. Another word for bo-ring. She knew how they felt about her choice.
Since she barely ever wore dresses, wedding dress shopping had been one of the most painful experiences of her life—even worse than going lingerie shopping with the Hale sisters in Denver one time. They’d had her try on ten wedding dresses in three different styles until she’d put a stop to that nonsense and selected the simplest of the lot.
She’d chosen a high-neck, sleeveless number that fell in a straight line to the floor. The fabric cinched in under her breasts, but there wasn’t an empire waist, thank God. The last thing she wanted to look like was a character in a Jane Austen novel. She’d refused to wear any adornments in her short page-boy styled hair. While shopping, she’d seen crowns that had ho
rrified her and flower wreaths she’d feared would attract birds.
She hoped it could compete with Mac’s selection of the most fabulously sexy tuxedo on the planet. She was quoting Jill here. The pattern on his jacket looked like chainmail, which made Peggy think of battle-scarred knights with broad-tipped swords. It was a perfectly tailored single-button jacket with a black satin notch lapel, according to Mac. Although unconventional in color and pattern, his tux exuded a classic style with its bow tie and pocket square, both in a color that reminded her of champagne, which matched the pattern on the jacket. The white shirt made everything pop, to her eye. It couldn’t be classier. It couldn’t be more him.
He’d joked that it would be bad luck for her to see his wedding day apparel before the ceremony. She hadn’t been amused, so he’d finally caved. When she offered to show him what she planned to wear, he’d playfully gasped and clutched his heart like she’d committed the biggest wedding faux pas on the planet. Like she cared about stuff like that.
“You hate my dress,” she said with a scowl.
“No,” Jill immediately said, rushing off the couch. “It’s simple and beautiful.”
Yeah, that worked for her, although she wasn’t sure about the beautiful part. She wasn’t expecting anyone to say she was a beautiful bride. Even if they did, it would embarrass the hell out of her. She just didn’t go for beauty.
“Ah…Mac has something he wanted us to give you,” Meredith said, reaching into her purse.
When she pulled out an elegantly wrapped maroon package tied with a cream ribbon, Peggy experienced a brief moment of panic.
“Was I supposed to get him something too? Why didn’t anyone tell me that?”
Weren’t people supposed to give them gifts? Of course she thought that was weird too. Why did two people deserve a whole bunch of presents for getting sappy and falling in love?
“No, it’s not mandatory,” Meredith said, biting her lip to stop from grinning. “He just thought you might want to wear this.”
