Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  The salon had arranged for a showing, with models wearing the gowns that had been selected for her. She’d already been given a keepsake pen and a printed program, so she could checkmark the styles that appealed to her.

  She sat in a wingback chair, with Meagan and Carol by her side, and watched the models emerge.

  Every dress was exquisite in its own way, but there was one that drew Lizzie into its long, flowing silk-and-lace allure. The creation offered a magical silhouette, embellished with crystal jewels and iridescent gold beads. A richly appliquéd bodice and chapel train with a French bustle lent the gown a sensual appeal.

  Even Meagan and Carol gasped when they saw it.

  Lizzie imagined it with a peacock-palette bouquet and her hair tumbling in thick red waves.

  “Look how romantic that is,” Carol said.

  Yes, Lizzie thought. It was like something out of a wedding night fantasy. She even envisioned Max sweeping her into his arms and carrying her straight to his bed.

  His bed?

  She shivered from the forbidden thought. She wasn’t supposed to be dwelling on her desire for Max. But she couldn’t seem to control the ache it caused.

  She drank more champagne, trying to cool off. But it didn’t do any good. Daydreaming about the man she was going to marry swirled through her blood, heating her from the inside out.

  “Are you going to mark that dress?” Meagan asked her.

  Lizzie snapped to attention. “Yes.” She was eager to try it on, hoping it looked as enchanting on her as it did on the model.

  She marked other gowns, as well. But her mind kept drifting back to the fantasy one.

  Finally, after the show ended, she was escorted to a luxurious fitting room. Meagan and Carol came with her.

  The fantasy gown was incredible. With the beautiful way the gold beads reflected the light, she looked like a princess.

  Or a fire-tinged goddess, she surmised, like the painting of Lady Ari. But that was the point. The reason Max wanted her gown to be marked with gold.

  “You look absolutely radiant,” Meagan said. “Like a bride should.”

  A bride who was desperate for her groom. Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut, making her reflection disappear. But when she opened her eyes, the hungry woman in the glittering gown was still there.

  Suddenly, she was afraid of how easily she’d found a dress, of how it seemed to be made just for her. “This is how it was when Max chose my ring for me.”

  Too right, she thought. Too perfect.

  Meagan and Carol smiled, assuming she meant it in a good way. But there was nothing good about how badly she wanted to be with Max.

  * * *

  Two weeks before the wedding, Max awakened in a cold sweat. He sat up in bed and dragged a hand through his hair.

  The closer he got to saying, “I do,” the more restless he became. Hunger. Desire. Lust. He had it bad, so damned bad. Getting naked with Lizzie was all he thought about, dreamed about, fantasized about.

  He blew out the breath in his lungs. He knew what she looked like in a bikini, with her tantalizing cleavage and pierced navel. But he’d never seen her completely bare.

  Were her nipples a soft shade of pink? Did they arouse easily? Would she sigh and moan if he rolled his tongue across them? He wondered all sorts of erotic things about her. Was she smooth between her legs or did she have a strip of fiery red hair? And what would she do if he kissed her there?

  Right there, all warm and soft and wet.

  He longed to kiss her everywhere, to hold her unbearably close, to feel the silkiness of her skin next to his.

  He’d wanted her for years, and now that they were getting married, the wanting had taken on a new meaning.

  The romance of making love with his wife.

  Cripes, he thought. Since when did he care about romance? Max was out of his element, with the effect the impending marriage was having on him. But it would be over soon enough. After they adopted Tokoni, they would get happily divorced and everything would go back to normal.

  But in the meantime...

  He squinted at the light peeking through the blinds. It was the crack of dawn and he needed to get up and get moving. Lizzie was coming by later this morning to see the garden. The work was finished, the gazebo built and ready.

  Was it any wonder he was stressed? A day hadn’t passed where there wasn’t something related to the wedding. Sure, the planner was doing a bang-up job of getting everything done. But it was still consuming Max’s life.

  And so was his yearning for Lizzie.

  He climbed out of bed and put his running clothes on, anxious to hightail it out of his house.

  And that was exactly what he did. He ran through the canyons, taking in the crisp morning air. He worked up an even bigger sweat than the one that had drenched him during the night.

  By the time he was done, he was ready for a long, water-pummeling, soap-sudsy shower. Of course, once he was naked, he thought about Lizzie again. But at least he didn’t touch himself. That would have made the wanting so much worse.

  After he got dressed and ate breakfast, he went out to the garden to wait for Lizzie. He’d already opened the security gate so she could let herself onto the property.

  She arrived with her hair falling over her shoulders and a breezy blouse flowing over a pair of slim-fitting jeans. He wanted to ravish her right then and there.

  “Look at this place,” she said as she approached him. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “Like it? I love it. It’s like the Garden of Eden.”

  The last thing he wanted to think about was a biblical paradise, where temptation ran amok. If Lizzie presented him with an apple, he would devour every luscious bite.

  “Max?”

  He blinked at her. “What?”

  “Are we going to walk through it so I can see everything up close?”

  “Yes, of course.” The design was lush and dense, surrounded by stately palms and giant birds of paradise. Vertical layers of plants and flowers created a junglelike appearance within a bold, brightly colored interior.

  They wandered the variegated pathways, then stopped to admire the fountain, listening to the rainlike sound it made.

  Next, they headed for the gazebo and stood inside the custom-built structure. It wasn’t decorated for the wedding yet, but when the time came, it would be adorned with flowers and sheer linen drapes.

  “This is where it’s going to happen,” she said.

  Yeah, he thought. Where he would marry the woman he longed to bed. But at least he would get to kiss her.

  “So, how are things going on your end?” he asked, trying to shake the anticipated kiss from his mind. “Do all the women in the bridal party have their dresses and whatnot?”

  “Yes, they do. I decided on mismatched dresses, with each of them choosing what looked best on them. I wanted them to express their individuality instead of putting everyone in the same style. My only stipulation was that they remained within the color theme.”

  “Are you pleased with the dress you got for yourself?” With as much time as they’d spent talking about it, he was eager to see her in it.

  “Truthfully, it makes me feel a little strange.”

  He angled his head. “Strange?”

  She winced. “Just sort of wedding nightish, with how soft and pretty it is.”

  Damn, he thought. Damn. “I guess it’s too late to trade it in for an ugly one, huh?”

  She smiled, laughed a little. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

  He doubted that it would make a difference. He slid his gaze over her and asked, “Did you have to get special lingerie to go with it?” He didn’t have a clue what brides wore under their gowns.


  She flushed in the sunlight, her fair skin going far too pink. “We’re doing it again, Max.”

  He frowned. “Doing what?”

  “Saying things to each other we shouldn’t say.” She fussed with the buttons on her blouse, as if they might accidentally come undone. “We need to change the subject.”

  His brain went blank. “To what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He hurriedly thought of something. He gestured to a small section of the garden. “See that area over there?”

  She glanced in the direction of where he pointed. “Yes.”

  “Those are the plants that were added for the language of flowers you told me about. I asked the landscaper to research it and he worked up a collection of flowers that pertain to joy and parenthood and welcoming a new son.”

  “Oh.” She made a soft sound. “That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. We’ll have to tell Tokoni about it when he comes here.”

  “He’s going to love this garden.” She gasped. “Oh, my goodness, look. It’s a ladybug.” She showed him where the little creature was crawling on a railing of the gazebo. “Do you want to see if it’ll come to you?”

  “Sure.” He went over to the ladybug and held his hand close to it. Sure enough, it crawled onto his finger.

  She watched the exchange. “I wondered if they bring a specific type of luck or if it’s general goodwill.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll look it up after it flies away.”

  Just then the ladybug winged its way toward Lizzie and landed on the back of her hand.

  She smiled and glanced down at it. “This has to be a good omen, right?”

  Finally the beetle took off, disappearing into the garden. Curious, Max got on his phone to research the luck they’d just been given.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “There’s lots of information. They mean different things in different cultures. But get this—in one of the old myths, if a ladybug lands on a woman’s hand, it means she is going to be married soon.”

  “Oh, wow. Imagine that? Does it say anything about a ladybug landing on a man’s hand?”

  He scanned the material. “There is something here about...” Oh, shit, he thought, as he read the contents. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  She scrunched up her face. “It’s not something about the wedding night, is it?”

  “No.” He frowned at his phone. “It’s about love. It says, ‘The direction in which a ladybug flies away from a man’s hand is where his true love will be.’”

  He glanced up, and they gazed at each other with disturbed expressions. The ladybug hadn’t just flown in Lizzie’s direction. It had gone right to her, making her his supposed true love.

  But Max refused to believe a message like that, especially when there were other ways to analyze it.

  “I’ll bet the ladybug is part of our lie,” he said. “That it’s aware of the reason we’ve been pretending to be in love and is playing along with us.”

  A strand of hair blew across her cheek. She batted it away without saying anything. She still seemed a little dazed.

  He prodded her for a response. “Don’t you think my theory sounds logical, Lizzie?”

  “Yes.” She walked out of the gazebo, her hair still blowing. “That has to be it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Definitely,” he said as they left the garden. They both knew that neither of them had the capacity to fall in love for real.

  Nine

  On the day of the wedding, Lizzie clutched her father’s arm. Within a matter of minutes, she would be walking down the garden-path aisle, heading toward her groom.

  Max Marquez. Her best friend. The man with whom she would be adopting a child.

  She glanced over at her dad. Surprisingly, his strong and silent presence helped keep her limbs from shaking. But the storm that raged through her mind was a whole other matter.

  Ever since the ladybug incident, she’d been struggling with the dangling, tangling heartstrings of love. Max’s explanation that the ladybug’s message was part of their lie should have satisfied her. But instead she’d begun worrying about love, fearful that it could happen to her.

  Anxious, Lizzie looked down at her bouquet. At the moment, she was wearing blue, green and purple diamond earrings that complemented the colors of the flowers. Max had given the earrings to her as a wedding gift. They’d been specially made for this occasion.

  She’d given him a jewelry gift, too: antique gold cuff links to wear with his tuxedo. Of course, once the ceremony was underway, she would be placing the band she’d chosen for him on his finger.

  As for her rings, her engagement ruby and diamond pavé band had been soldered together to create one shimmering piece, and that was what Max would be marrying her with today.

  She shifted her gaze to the elegantly decorated gazebo, where he waited for her. Soon, so very soon, she would be his legally wedded wife. She’d never believed herself capable of love, and now she was fretting over it. But given how long she’d known Max and as close as they’d always been, weren’t those types of feelings possible?

  As the opening notes of “Here Comes the Bride” began to play, signaling her entrance, she lifted her chin, determined to stay strong.

  Her father glanced over and said, “It’s time.”

  She nodded. Everyone, including Max, turned to watch her come down the aisle. But she doubted that he was worried about love. He seemed fixated on how she looked, his appreciative gaze sweeping the long, silky, white-and-gold length of her.

  She shouldn’t have told him that her dress made her feel “wedding nightish.” But she couldn’t take those words back. She couldn’t take any of this back. She was marrying Max and afraid that she might fall hopelessly in love with him.

  Would she know the moment it occurred? Would it pierce her like a warrior’s arrow? Or would it be a gradual wound, a slow bleeding with an eventual loss of consciousness?

  Lizzie held her breath, praying that her heart remained intact. Because nothing would tear her apart more than loving a man she was destined to divorce.

  As her dad turned her over to Max, she wished that she’d worn a veil to cover her face. She felt terribly exposed, with the passion-steeped way Max was looking at her.

  She gazed longingly at him, too, mesmerized by his tall, dark beauty. He wore his hair in its usual style, as thick and shiny and straight as it naturally was. His designer tuxedo featured satin details and notched lapels, and his boutonniere was attached on the left side, above his heart, where it was supposed to be.

  He recited his vows first, as instructed to do. As he promised to love and honor her for all eternity, a soft rattle sounded in his voice. She recited hers just as quietly, just as shakily. Only her vows were rife with fear.

  They exchanged rings, and when the time came for him to kiss her, Lizzie refrained from running her tongue across her lips. But that didn’t ease the romantic restlessness that baited her soul. She was wearing red lipstick, as hot and fiery as the rubies in their rings.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she said. She was more than ready.

  He leaned forward and put his hands in her hair. His lips touched hers, and her eyes fluttered closed. This was the kiss she’d been thinking about, fantasizing about, waiting for. He pulled her closer, and the elements flowed through her.

  The sun. The wind. The bloom of flowers.

  Was she becoming part of her surroundings? Or did she feel this way because she was becoming part of him?

  Lizzie couldn’t think clearly, not while she was in the dreamy midst of wanting him. He didn’t use his tongue and neither did she, but it still felt beautifully forbidden.

&nb
sp; It ended far too soon, with him separating himself from her. She opened her eyes. His were open now, too.

  Her mind went hazy. Was her lipstick smeared? Max didn’t have any on him, so it must be okay. It was supposed to be the long-lasting, non-smudge kind. For infinite kisses, she thought.

  The ceremony came to a close, with the man officiating it introducing them as husband and wife.

  “We did it,” Max said to her, his voice seductively quiet.

  “Yes, we did,” she murmured back. They were married now, first kiss and all.

  As they descended the aisle, they were celebrated with cheers and the fragrant tossing of dried lavender. It dusted them like confetti, purple buds sprinkling the air. The wedding planner had recommended it, providing little mesh bags to their guests. Lizzie hadn’t thought to check on what lavender meant in the language of flowers until last night, discovering that, among other things, it was said to soothe passions of the heart.

  But as Max held her hand, his fingers threaded through hers, she wasn’t the least bit soothed.

  His touch only heightened her fears about falling in love.

  * * *

  The chandeliers in the ballroom had been altered, the original crystals replaced to reflect the colors of the wedding. Also enriching the décor were fancy linens, glittering candles and big, bold flower arrangements trimmed in peacock feathers.

  The cake was outstanding, too. Max could see it from where he sat, displayed on a dessert cart, the four-tiered creation a frothily iced masterpiece. But for now he and Lizzie and their guests dined on their meals, prepared by a renowned chef and served on shiny gold plates.

  Their table consisted of the wedding party. The best men and maid of honor had already made their toasts, and the flower girls and their mothers looked exceptional in their feminine finery. Baby Nita’s nanny was part of the group, ready to whisk her off to a makeshift nursery that had been provided, in case the wee one needed a nap. A playroom for the older kids was also available, with child-care attendants standing by.

  Lizzie’s father fit naturally into the high-society gathering. He didn’t seem as detached as he normally was, and for that Max was grateful. He wanted Lizzie to feel protected by her one and only parent, especially today. Watching her come down the aisle with her dad had left Max with a lump in his throat.