At this rate, I was going to sob through the entire ceremony. I grabbed another tissue, passing one to Mya, as well. Her eyes were definitely filled with suspicious moisture.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, we can’t keep crying. Our makeup’s going to start clumping and we’ll look like raccoons walking down the aisle.”
Maggie nodded, turning away from the mirror. “Okay. No more crying. Let me look at you guys.”
Mya, Jo—Maggie’s friend from home—and I were her only bridesmaids. Thankfully she’d let me pick out the dresses, so we’d been spared heinous ruffles and poofs. My job in fashion PR gave me the opportunity to work with a lot of young designers, and I’d spent months finding the perfect person to design our gowns.
Maggie’s wedding colors were pink and gold, so the three of us wore floor-length sheaths in various colors of pale pink.
Jo’s was the darkest, then Mya’s, and finally my dress was the softest shade, somewhere between pink and blush. The dresses were similar in style, but all cut a bit differently to fit our builds. Mine was fitted down to my knees where it flowed out into a modified trumpet shape. It was definitely a little tighter than it had been when I was fitted for it, but you couldn’t really tell by looking at me. And the bouquet of pink roses I’d carry down the altar would hide my stomach.
“You look amazing.” Maggie’s eyes teared up. “I love you guys. Thank you so much for being here for this.”
I reached out and hugged her, trying not to get caught up in her veil. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Okay, seriously, let’s get this party started,” Jo interjected. “We have ten minutes to go before you have to walk down the aisle, and we can’t spend it getting mopey. It’s time for a toast.”
Mya nodded and moved away from the group to pour champagne into waiting crystal flutes.
We were standing in the church’s small changing room. They’d decided to get married in a little chapel near the Eiffel Tower with a small reception afterward at the Hotel Georges V. Maggie and Samir had moved to Paris after Maggie graduated LSE. Samir found a job working for an international organization and Maggie was working on her French and interviewing for jobs. They’d rented a nice flat in the Fifteenth district.
Samir’s parents were pissed about the marriage and hadn’t come to the wedding, but Maggie’s family was here. I hurt for him, but I knew that in their absence, Maggie had become his family now.
Jo lifted her champagne glass in the air. “To Maggie and Samir, and a lifetime of happiness.”
We all clinked glasses. I held mine to my lips, trying to look like I was drinking without actually having to. I set it down on the vanity, hoping no one noticed, keeping busy by gathering our bouquets. Maggie’s father would be here in a few minutes for their walk down the aisle.
The girls drained their glasses, and then Maggie’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Are you going to drink your champagne?”
I shrugged. “I had a sip,” I lied. “I figured I shouldn’t be tipsy walking down the aisle,” I joked. “Don’t want to trip in my heels.”
“Since when do you pass up expensive champagne?” Mya asked. “Samir sprung for the good stuff.” She shot me a strange look and a pause filled the air.
Maggie’s eyes widened, her gaze traveling down to my stomach, and her entire face transformed. “Fleur . . .”
It was barely anything, the faintest of bumps that I stared at in the mirror in amazement, but it was there.
I fought to keep the smile off my face.
“Am I going to be an aunt?” she shrieked.
We’d decided not to say anything until after the wedding—I didn’t want to take the attention away from Maggie and Samir—but the joy on Maggie’s face told me she was almost as excited as I was.
I nodded, unable to speak for the fear of the floodgates it would unleash.
“Ohmigod.”
Maggie and Mya threw their arms around me.
“You have to tell me everything. How far along are you? Does Max know?” Maggie bombarded me with questions, hugging me until we were both crying.
“Just three months. We wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell everyone. And I was nervous about the baby since I’d miscarried before. But my doctor says I’m doing really well and we’re past the first trimester.”
Mya smiled. “I bet Max is thrilled.”
“He is.”
Max had been amazing. I’d been nervous to tell him I was pregnant. We lived together in London in an amazing flat in Canary Wharf, but it wasn’t exactly kid friendly. We both worked long hours, Max especially, and even though he’d paid off his student loans and was saving up to buy a flat, he was the kind of guy who liked to have a plan in place. A baby hadn’t been on our agenda. He seemed to like kids, but I hadn’t been sure how he would handle the news that he would be at dad at twenty-five.
I’d been so nervous when I told him, but the second I had, the nerves completely disappeared.
I couldn’t have predicted how happy he’d be or how excited. It was like I’d given him the best gift ever. We spent so much time talking about the baby now—looking at flats in central London, talking about nannies and day care options since we both worked. It was crazy, and overwhelming, and every dream I’d ever had.
“Are you guys going to get married?” Maggie asked suddenly.
“Maybe, eventually?”
“If he asked you to marry him, though, you’d say yes, right? You do want to him marry him?”
“Of course I’d say yes. It’s just not something I’m thinking about right now.”
“Why?”
“It’s not that big of a deal to me. I love him. I will always love him. He feels the same way about me. We’re having a baby and starting a family, and I don’t know that we need a piece of paper. It won’t change anything between us.”
A determined glint filled Maggie’s eyes. “You should get married.”
I grinned. Some of my stubbornness had definitely rubbed off on her. Although, to be fair, she probably needed it to handle Samir.
“We’ll see. Let’s just focus on getting you married right now.”
Max had talked to me about it when I’d told him I was pregnant, but I didn’t want him to marry me just because of the baby. Maybe it was a French thing, but I didn’t think we had to get married in order to be a family, and if we did, I wanted it to be because he wanted to marry me, not out of obligation. I knew what Max and I had; a ring wouldn’t change that. Neither would reciting vows in front of our friends.
He gave me those promises every single day.
We spent a few more minutes fussing over Maggie in the changing room, and then her father came in. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with her family, and I knew her relationship with her father was rocky, but it was obvious by the look of pride that came into his eyes at the sight of her, that he loved Maggie. And she was thrilled to have him there.
The bridesmaids moved to get into position to walk down the aisle.
Maggie’s little half brother was the ring bearer so he would go first, then Jo and Mya, then me. I waited in the back of church with Maggie and her father, hidden from view until the wedding planner signaled that it was time for me to get ready to walk.
I squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Love you.”
She beamed back at me. “Love you, too.”
I waited for my cue, and then I was walking down the aisle to the sound of the most gorgeous pipe organ I’d ever heard. The second I hit the ivory runner, I looked to the front of the church where Samir stood with his three groomsmen—Tarek, his childhood friend from Lebanon, Omar, and Max.
Despite their different personalities, and largely due to my stubborn insistence that they get along, Max and Samir were close now. They were definitely a strange pairing, and I knew sometimes Samir drove Max nuts, but they’d become family. I couldn’t have asked for more.
I walked down the aisle, my gaze on the two most important me
n in my life. Samir looked nervous, but the second our eyes met across the church, his face relaxed a bit, a lazy smile on his lips. As much as he’d pretended that it didn’t bother him that his parents hadn’t come, I knew it wasn’t the same.
She looks hot, I mouthed to him as I neared the altar, and I watched as he fought the urge to laugh, his head shaking, and then the rest of the tension slid out of him.
My job done, my gaze traveled to Max, who looked like the hottest thing I’d ever seen in his custom tux. He was laughing, the pride in his eyes making me fight back tears.
Love you, he mouthed to me, and then he looked down my body, and his gaze settled on my stomach, and I knew he wasn’t just talking to me.
I took my place at the altar next to Mya and Jo, waiting for the bride, and my gaze scanned the crowd. I caught sight of Michael sitting near the back, and he winked at me and flashed me the thumbs-up sign. George sat next to him.
I smiled at Maggie’s grandparents sitting in the front pew of the church. Maggie’s stepmom sat next to them with her son in her lap, looking adorable in his little tux.
Another wave of emotion hit me as I imagined us having a little boy who looked like Max. I honestly didn’t care if we had a boy or girl; I just wanted a healthy baby. But that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about the baby we’d made.
The music changed, and the guests rose in the pews. Everyone turned to catch a first glimpse of the bride.
I waited a beat, and instead of looking at the entrance of the church, I glanced across the altar and caught the look on my cousin’s face the first moment he saw his bride.
And then I started crying again.
###
It was a beautiful ceremony.
Maggie and Samir spent the whole time staring into each other’s eyes and laughing, and it was impossible to not feel like they were in their own private world.
Afterward, we all went to go take pictures near the Eiffel Tower before heading over to the reception. We did a bunch of group photos, and now we waited while the photographer took some shots of Maggie and Samir alone.
“How are you feeling?” Max whispered in my ear, pulling me away from everyone else. It was chilly outside, and we were all bundled up in coats in between photos.
I grinned. “Amazing.”
“Are you doing okay with the cold?”
I loved the protectiveness in his voice. He’d been so worried about me in the beginning of the pregnancy. I’d had a bit of nausea and been tired, but otherwise things had been good. He was there for the food cravings and basically wouldn’t let me carry anything heavier than my handbag. It was really sweet. He was going to be an amazing dad.
“Yes, Daddy,” I teased.
His arms wrapped around me, his hand settling over my stomach. He stroked the tiny almost-bump.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“The ceremony made you emotional.”
I groaned. “Hormones.” It was kind of embarrassing that I cried constantly now. I was losing major street cred over this.
He turned me around to face him, his hands rubbing back and forth over my arms as if to warm me. His gaze turned serious.
“Have you ever thought about what our wedding would be like?”
I froze in a way that had nothing to do with the cold outside.
“Our wedding?” I squeaked.
Max nodded, his gaze intent. He had that determined look in his eyes now, the one that had taken the financial world by storm.
I struggled for nonchalance, even though my heart was suddenly racing. Had I thought about marrying him?
Maybe. Every day. Always.
But I’d already sprung a baby on him. We were young . . . what if this was too much responsibility?
I hesitated. “Kind of.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to get married?”
My mind raced. “No, I’m saying that I don’t want to put too much on you. We’ve talked about this.”
“Babe. We’re having a baby together.”
I blinked. “I don’t want you to marry me because we’re having a baby. We can have a baby together without getting married. You love me, and I love you. We love this baby. That’s enough for me. I’m not worried.”
Max smiled at me. “I want to marry you because you’re my world. Because I love you more than anything, and I will love you until the day I die. I want you to be my wife because you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. And while I’m so grateful that you’re giving me the greatest gift of my life with this baby, I promise you, I’d want to marry you even if you weren’t pregnant. I love you, Fleur.”
I was crying now, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the hormones and everything to do with the man standing—ohmigod—kneeling in front of me.
“What are you doing?”
Max grinned, pulling a black velvet box out of his pocket, and then the tears really started falling.
“Marry me, Fleur.”
I laughed through my tears at the fact that he didn’t ask. Apparently that was what three years together had done to him.
My answer came out in a rush of excitement and joy, somewhere near a shout.
“Yes.”
Max stood, pulling me into my arms and kissing me until I was breathless, until my happy tears mingled with the moisture of our mouths.
I pulled away first and stared down at my left hand, getting a good look at the ring he’d put there. It was an eternity band of emerald-cut diamonds. I probably shouldn’t have cared about the ring, but yeah, I kind of did. And it was gorgeous. It wasn’t a traditional style, which suited me perfectly. And it was big.
Max shot me a knowing look. “Did I do okay?”
I stared at it sparkling on my hand, dazzling me, then back at my future husband. “It’s better than anything I could have ever imagined.” I bit my lip. “So Maggie knows about the baby, but do you think maybe we should wait to tell them we’re engaged? I don’t want to take the attention away from their wedding.”
Max grinned. “Babe, who do you think helped me pick out the ring? She made me promise that I would propose where everyone could see. We came up with the compromise to do it here where it would still be private and away from the rest of the wedding celebration, but she and Samir could be a part of it. They’re your family. They love you. I figured you would want them here.”
I was so incredibly lucky. Tears spilled over my cheeks. “Maggie helped you pick out the ring?”
He laughed. “Actually, no. Let’s just say her taste is a little more modest than yours. She went with us, but Samir helped me pick out the ring.”
Surprise filled me. “You went with Samir?”
“I’m old-fashioned, I had to ask someone for your hand in marriage.”
God. More tears. He’d known exactly what to do, even when I hadn’t thought of it. And now I knew who would walk me down the aisle.
“And for the record, I bought the ring before you told me you were pregnant. I’ve been carrying it around for months, waiting for the right moment. The Eiffel Tower has been lucky for us. And it had to be in Paris. You first told me you loved me in Paris.”
And I felt that love burst through me right then. “Have I ever told you that you’re absolutely perfect for me?”
He smiled. “Tu es l’amour de ma vie.”
I froze as the French tumbled out of Max’s mouth. He turned red as the words came out, his accent slightly off, but his delivery full of all the love in the world.
You are the love of my life.
He’d given me the words in the language I’d teach our child, given me the words in the language etched in my heart.
He gave me the world.
Max leaned forward, and our lips connected, and I felt the same click I always did when we kissed. And then he broke contact and turned to face our friends, who were no longer taking photos but were standing there expectantly, watching us.
Clearly, he�
�d filled them in on his plan.
“She said yes,” he yelled, a huge grin on his face.
Cheers went up in the group, and then we were surrounded by Mya, Samir, Maggie, George, and Michael. The photographer snapped pictures as we hugged, and laughed, and cried, Maggie in her beautiful white wedding dress, Samir with a platinum wedding band on his ring finger, George, Mya, and Michael beaming at us. And in the middle, Max with one arm around me, the other on our future.
It was my favorite photo of all of us.
One that sat on a desk in Mya’s office in Lagos, in the living room of Samir and Maggie’s cozy flat in Paris, in Michael’s chic Tribeca loft, in George’s office in Surrey.
And when our daughter was old enough, I pulled the photo out and showed her the picture of her father and me surrounded by the people who’d changed my life. And when she pointed at the picture and asked who everyone was, I told her simply, “Ma famille.”
My family.
Thanks for reading French Kissed. I hope you enjoyed it!
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You’ve just read the third and final book in the International School series. The first two books in the series, I See London and London Falling, tell Maggie and Samir’s story and introduce the International School gang. A sample for I See London is provided on the next page.
Did you miss the book where it all began?
Read on for a sneak peek of I SEE LONDON, now available from Chanel Cleeton and Harlequin HQN wherever ebooks are sold.
I See London
I was going to die and I wasn’t even wearing my best underwear.
My Southern grandmother loved to tell me a girl should always look like a lady—even down to her “unmentionables,” as she liked to call them.
French Kissed Page 23
