by Maggie Way
“I can see that. I'm not completely clueless, but it's important. Please come.”
“It's okay,” I told my friend, who was just getting ready to release the wrath of a thousand warrior gods on the poor man. “Let's just go. I don't know what this is, but I’d just assume we get it over with.”
He led us to a suite on the fifth floor, opening the door and waving us through. I stopped short on the threshold. My stomach lodged in my throat, and I forgot to breathe.
The room had been turned into some kind of bridal wonderland. There were gorgeous carved wood vanities, each littered with makeup and hair dryers and beauty implements. Every kind of make up or toiletry you could imagine was there for the taking.
Three sterling silver champagne buckets were iced down and filled with green and gold bottles of the finest bubby I’d ever heard of. Crystal flutes tied with navy and red bows stood to one side, inviting us in.
But the piece de resistance stood along one wall. Three curvy dress forms were decked out in a bridal gown and two claret colored bridesmaid dresses.
Panic rose in me, a thousand bubbles, each filled with “if only” and “please” and “yes.” My confusion and joy and horror must have warred on my face as I glanced from my best friend to his, and back again.
“No, No-ho-ho. It, what…?”
Gil reached out and nudged me through the door. “This this is your wedding, Vivi, or what could have been.”
Marianna wrapped a warm arm around me and pulled me into the gorgeous, sweet smelling room. “Come inside, babe, I've got a story to tell you.”
Gil, well, he just disappeared.
Her soft voice began as she took me to a chaise lounge and pulled me down beside her. “He planned this for you, hon. I don't know exactly why. I suspect something went wrong on their last mission.”
“He didn’t say.”
She nodded. “What I know for sure is I got this call in the middle of the night. It was Con telling me he couldn't live another day without you. He and Gil had cooked up this scheme to throw you a surprise wedding — your wedding if I'm not mistaken. I don't know how much of this is what you planned, but when I saw what he did, the choices he made, everything from flowers to cake to the way the room was organized and your colors… well, he chose what I think you would have.”
I nodded. There was no denying it. This really was my wedding. If only I had a groom.
Con
I knocked on the door figuring I had about three minutes to get this right. Three minutes until my love walked away, and this time I knew it would be for good. One thing about my girl, her propensity to forgive was enormous, but her ability to forget — tiny.
“Marianna, can we have a minute?”
She kissed Vivi the on the cheek and walked by, giving me a warning nod before closing the door behind her.
Sad amber eyes blinked up into my somber ones. “You did all of this for me?”
“I did this for us, baby. I can’t live one more day without you as my wife. I'm not stupid. I know this weekend's been an epic disaster. Things have reared up and shown us, especially me, that we have more to learn. I’m here to tell you I'm willing to learn, to do whatever it takes, because you're the one that I want to spend every single remaining day of my life with. I've been known to be a hardhead, just ask anyone on my team.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her and a half-baked smile peeked out, before quickly drawing back.
“They’d actually tell you it's one of my stronger traits, but with you, with this, I can only apologize.”
Her face gave me nothing, but I plowed on.
“What you think is lack of trust… It isn't trust, baby. I trust you to care for me and our kids and our friends. I know from my gut that every bit of the joy and love and memories we’d make together would come from your strength and your generous heart. What I haven’t been able to do is let go of control. I don't know if it's because I'm a SEAL. Because that shit is drummed into us, to be smarter, stronger, and faster. We’re required to be harder, to be tricky and to think outside of the box.
“At the end of the day, all our training comes down to controlling the situation even when things seem insurmountable.
“My biggest failing in this, in us, is forgetting that you're not an op, not a terrorist, not a mission. You’re my love. You're my life. You're the reason for the sun to shine. I want to live every day of the rest my life with you. Baby, please help me figure out how to do that. Please give me another chance.”
Her hand covered her mouth now and she was gulping for breath, her whole body shaking as she sobbed, and my heart died. Just for a moment. Then the corners of her mouth were peeking out and curving up.
I was in.
I’d won, not that I cared about victory for victory’s sake, but I cared about Vivi, and I sure the hell cared about us.
While my heart HooYah’d, my brain knew she needed more, we needed it. “My last mission.”
Her smile slipped at my words.
“It was bad. Really bad. Like flag-draped coffin bad.”
“Oh, Con.” Delicate fingers reached up and she stroked them down my jaw.
“Out there, once we were evac’d and safe, I knew I couldn’t wait. Not even one more week could pass before I made you mine. In moments like that you realize what’s really important. What matters most, what you can’t live without.” I swallowed down the knot in my throat and continued.
“I needed you more than I needed water and sunshine and my next mission. I needed to marry you, not months from now, but right away. When word came about our unplanned leave, I had my chance. I just didn’t know how many obstacles we’d face before I could get you to the altar.”
We shared our feelings about love and family, commitment and marriage. She told me what she needed and expected, what she hoped for and feared, and I did the same.
“I guess the idea of a surprise wedding wasn’t my best.”
She shook her head and reached to lace her fingers though mine. “Your idea was great, it was the implementation that suffered.”
“You think?” Irony clanked against my skull as I thought of the missions I’d planned, the strategies, the tactics, the success. Most had been flawless. Except for one, this one — wedding the woman I love.
We talked some more, real talk, the kind that cracks open your soul and pours out all that you have, all that you are.
It was a conversation like no other. One long past due, and earlier than expected. More tears were shed, hers and, I’m not too proud to admit, a few of mine too.
The outpouring of words and love, it cleaned us of sorrow and regrets and pain. In those hours we healed and we grew together, as one.
The paper and the ceremony diminished to formality because on the balcony of that bridal suite we pledged our commitment for today and every day, for the rest of our lives.
As I held her in my arms and kissed her tenderly, it was with all the passion I had.
She made an odd sound, one that vibrated right into my mouth, and I pulled back.
“You okay?” My worry and the lead weight in my gut were replaced by pure joy when I realized she was laughing. Not at me, and not at us, but because a Second Line was weaving down the street in front of our hotel.
The brass band marched by leading a group from church to the cemetery. They blasted out impromptu jazz, which poured up to us from below. Family and friends laughed and celebrated the passing of their loved one as black lace parasols popped up from the crowd. The band marched and the crowd danced by.
That moment, arguably the most important one in our whole lives, and we had our own frickin’ parade.
I threw my head back and hollered, “Oh, hell YES!”
I held her in my arms as we watched and laughed and shared the magical moment. A Second Line was intended to celebrate the life of someone rare and special. Someone who had loved well, someone who’d been loved, someone who’d passed away. It wasn’t about sadness or sorrow. Parades l
ike these were a joyful send-off, a way to set the soul free.
It was life affirming joy, and in that moment I could think of no more fitting a moment for us to share.
And then I saw it.
“Holy shit!” My breath flash froze, then burned though my lungs.
Vivi’s head jerked back and her wide eyes waited for more.
I shook my head trying to zoom my vision. Could it be?
“Unbelievable.” Laughter ripped from my chest as I pulled her in for a tight hug, before I shifted away and zeroed in on my target.
It was two thirds of the way down the block, but it was unmistakable. A tall, skinny black man was dancing some kind of cathartic dance, and atop his head gleamed the most beautiful sight. Call it an omen or blessing from her grandmother above, I didn't know which.
“Give me a sec.”
Vivi nodded, watching for whatever came next. She stood by me, generous and trusting, and willing to wait for me.
I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.
I was over that iron railing in a flash, shimmying down two stories of metal flowers and fleur de lis until I was able to drop the final ten feet to the ground, already running in a full out sprint.
“Be careful,” she called after me. “Oh, God, don’t kill yourself.”
Halfway up the block I caught him, and then the fight began in earnest. Not a real fight. I knew she wouldn't appreciate violence, but that stubborn queen didn’t want to give up her veil.
I did the only thing I could think of – I bribed him. After a load of fast talking and some willful redirection of the entire parade, I got them looped back around and led them to the double glass doors of Spiriteaux, where I would be buying everyone at least a few rounds in return for my love’s one true desire – her magical family heirloom, the one she’d sworn she’d never marry without.
She met me at the elevator, full of laughter and tears. I actually wobbled when she threw herself into my arms and wound her legs around my waist. I did drop the damn veil, but I'd never drop her. I held her tight as I knew I would every chance I had for the rest of our lives.
Vivi
Most women don’t make love against the door of their bridal dressing room. I’m sure of it. But Con and I, we did things our way. And in that moment, after the weekend we’d had, I deserved him. We deserved each other.
It was sloppy and quick and desperate, but oh, so good. We were back. Together. Stronger. Ready to take on our future, whatever it brought.
I’d pulled on my wedding gown and sat at the dressing table tugging a brush through the messy strands of my hair.
“You’re making it worse,” I leaned away as he smoothed his hands down the back where I’d already brushed.
“You’re beautiful.”
My gut twisted at the conviction in his statement.
“We have less than an hour before the guests arrive. Sex-blushed cheeks, tear-stained makeup, and knotted up hair aren’t acceptable,” I said, frowning at my image in the mirror of the antique vanity. But when I glanced up and caught sight of him behind me, I tumbled into the abyss once again at the pure love showering down from his gaze.
Minutes from now he’d be mine, and I, his.
Forever.
Whatever battles lie ahead, whatever fear, or frustration, we’d face it together.
“I love you, you know. Sometimes so much it overwhelms me.” My voice cracked, but the foundation of truth in it held firm.
He bent and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Me too.” He nuzzled his face into my hair, pushing it aside to gently kiss my neck.
Eventually I kicked him out and pulled myself together. Marianna showed up, and eventually Lexi did too. Thank goodness it wasn’t until much later that I heard about how Boomer practically had to kick in the door of a supply closet to extract her — she and the sax player from our wedding band.
I’d been shocked when Gabe showed up at my dressing room door with a crooked smile and looking good enough to sway any woman. Any but me.
“When he asked me to escort you, I wondered if he was pushing my buttons, but no,” he’d said. “Turns out he just wanted you to be happy, to be safe and supported as any bride should be.” His wry grin told me Gabe was shooting straight. “Gotta give him points for this.”
Tears threatened and I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth. No crying. Not now. Not when every possible happiness was waiting.
Our wedding was perfect. Nothing I’d expected, but everything I’d always wanted. Con took my breath away and gave me the world.
The wedding room was dressed in clouds of gossamer, draped down between the columns and banded across the ornate tin-tiled ceiling. Every mahogany seat wore a large tapestry bow in the same claret color of Marianna and Lexi’s gowns. Rose petals covered the aisle that stretched from the main entrance to just in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Sunshine beamed in as if in blessing of our day. The day Con and I vowed our love.
He stood proudly in dress uniform waiting for me, more impressive, more confident, and more beautiful than ever before.
Gabe squeezed my hand, then led me to the one place I’d always longed to be. In the arms of a man strong enough to keep me safe, steady enough to stand by my side, and sexy enough to thrill me every day we shared, and even those when we were apart.
He led me to Con.
Later, as the wine flowed and the jazz see-sawed through the party Con had arranged, I stood in the circle of my husband’s arms and wondered how I’d gotten so lucky. Was it chance that brought Con and I together on that beach in Texas, or something else?
Everyone should be so lucky. When I threw my bridal bouquet and it bounced like a volleyball away from the swell of single women and into Gabe’s arms, I couldn’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky soon too.
About the Author
After years spent disguised as a nerd girl techie superhero, Iona Findley, author of the popular Hero's Heart series, decided to let her wicked creative side loose.
She now writes fast-paced and heartwarming contemporary romance: the kind that leave you hopeful and happy, the kind that are a little steamy and a lot adventurous, the kind about characters you want to cheer for as they make their own path to love.
Iona loves to explore new places, and she draws upon her experience as a serial traveler for the settings in her books. When she can’t fit in an international trip, you might find her in New Orleans, soaking up the eclectic historical atmosphere of the French Quarter and writing her newest series, The Toussaints and it's spin-off, The Brides of The Belle.
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Email: [email protected]
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Meryton Matchmakers Book 1
Lottie Pursues Bill
by Kristi Rose
Chapter One
Lottie stepped from the house and eased the door closed with a quiet click. The dewy air was cool but would soon enough be too warm for her to enjoy the walk to her café. The sun, still tucked behind the ending night, brought with it the hint of a summer heavy with oppressive heat. Last year they’d had two brownouts. What would this summer bring?
With stun gun in hand, she slung her bag over her shoulder and began her peaceful stroll to work. The stun gun was because Bill forced her to carry it just in case. She didn’t like to think about what just in case meant. Besides, what could happen in the small farming town of Meryton? Would she get spooked by a cow? Possibly. Instead of considering the scarier possibilities, she liked to think about the day’s menu and new cupcake creation. Her taste of late had run towards sp
icy and feisty.
Oh, that rhymed. She should use that as the theme of the day.
“Morning, Lotts,” Bill said stepping out from the pasture and onto the walkway beside her.
“Jesus Christ,” she yelled and fumbled with the stun gun. It flew from her fingertips and landed somewhere in the grass. “You scared me to death, Bill. What do you think you’re doing walking up on someone in the dark?”
“I announced myself. You know that stun gun has a flashlight. You should use it. I almost couldn’t find you.”
“That’s the point. I’m not trying to give my location away. Just enjoy the walk to work. Sorry about the—er—using His name in vain.” It’s not like he hadn’t met her on the early walks before. It’s that she usually saw him before she heard him. Today, he had caught her completely unaware.
Bill flicked on a flashlight, the one she’d given him for Christmas that he carried on his keychain, and started searching the grass. “Some people think it’s bad—and nothing more—to say the Lord’s name in vain. I like to think that in a time when you were scared—or at the very least startled—you weren’t saying His name in vain but calling upon Him for help. That means a lot coming from an agnostic such as yourself. There’s hope for you yet.”
Lottie saw the little power-zapper in the grass and snatched it up. She flicked the switch and made it spark. “I prefer pagan,” she teased.
Bill held up his hands. “Pagan then.” He chuckled. “Temptress, even. With those wickedly sinful cupcakes. But you will not tempt me. No, ma’am.”
“Says the man who has a juvie record.” She clicked off the charge, turned on the flashlight and shone it in his face.
“Hey.” He blocked his eyes. “Those records are sealed, and you were sworn to secrecy. You pinky-promised.”
