“You should have woken me up.” He turned her so they were moving away from the crowd of bodies on the dance floor. “But it gave me time to do some thinking. I don’t think you believe me when I say I’ve changed.”
“Have you?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“I think so. I’m trying. Or have my attempts to date you gone unnoticed?”
A smile peeked out of her eyes before she blinked it away. “Is that what you were doing?”
“Trying to.” They danced for a moment. He smiled when her hands started to relax. They weren’t in playing-with-the-hair territory yet, but it was a start. “I’m not perfect. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my relationships.” She swayed against him but didn’t say anything. “But I’m working on it.”
“With your parents.”
“With everyone. You were right when you told me that I had to forgive my parents if I wanted our relationship to improve. And I did.”
Her face softened. He wanted to kiss the smile on her lips but refrained. He wasn’t finished yet.
“So I’m asking you to forgive me, to give me another chance.”
“Beck...” The smile was gone now.
He wasn’t giving up. “I need you. Whatever it takes.” These last months of living without her had been torture. “It killed me to see you out with other guys.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because her arms dropped. “You told me that’s what you wanted.”
“I was trying not to scare you. I thought if I blurted out everything, I’d chase you away.”
“Oh, I think you did a pretty good job anyway.”
“No.” He threaded their hands together when she tried to step back. “Hear me out.”
“There’s nothing to say, Beck.”
“There is.” He heard the rasp of desperation in his voice. “I’m going to screw up. I’m screwing up right now. But you have to tell me when I do and I’ll fix it. I need you.”
“No, Beck.” Her mouth turned down sadly. “I’m a convenience to you. I don’t know why you’re doing this. You got what you wanted and you’re leaving town tomorrow. Can’t you just let me go?”
“No,” he said simply. “I can’t. And I’m not leaving town tomorrow.”
“Then the day after or next week.” She struggled to pull free. He held on. “The point is, you’re leaving.”
“I’m not. I bought a place here. I’m staying.”
She blinked. “But what about your company?”
“We’re expanding.” He rubbed a thumb across the back of her hand. “My dad has this idea about building in Naramata, but even if that doesn’t happen I’m staying. I can’t leave you.” Couldn’t lose her.
Her eyes turned down at the corners. He hated that it was his fault, that he’d put the sadness there and lost her trust.
He lifted a hand to her face, stroked her soft cheek. “I don’t know if I can ever make it all up to you, but I’ve got a lifetime to try.” He heard her breath hitch, felt the little sob as it ran through her, and he tightened his hold on her. “Please, let me try.”
“And what happens when you change your mind? Or when things get too hard?”
“They won’t. I won’t.” He’d spent a lot of time the last couple months thinking about this, knowing if he wasn’t entirely committed, he had to back off because he loved her. But that was just it. He loved her.
“How can you be so sure?”
He took a breath. “Because I’m in love with you.”
She stilled, her eyes wide. He hoped that wasn’t horror. Oh, Christ. If that was horror...
“You’re what?” She tried to step away from him, but their hands were still linked.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeated. It was scary saying it out loud, but scarier to think of it trapped in his chest and never coming out at all. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.”
Her mouth moved but no sound came out. He hoped that was a good thing.
It was time. He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a small blue box.
* * *
POPPY COULDN’T MOVE, couldn’t speak. She could barely feel or think. What was he doing? Scratch that. She knew exactly what he was doing.
She just couldn’t believe it. Her insides were about to bounce out of her skin. She blinked as Beck let go of her and lowered himself to one knee. “Poppy Sullivan, will you marry me?”
He flipped the box open, displaying the most perfect ring Poppy had ever seen. She reached out to touch it reverently. It was her ring. The one she’d picked out for herself that Wynn always teased her about. And it was twinkling back at her.
She looked at Beck, who still knelt before her, a hopeful, nervous expression on his face.
But he didn’t want a family or a picket fence or a permanent relationship. Hadn’t he made that clear with every word and action? Hadn’t she spent the entire day reminding herself of just that?
Except, if she really thought about the past couple months it was her who’d denied the connection between them. Granted, she’d been perfectly within her rights to do so. She’d only been trying to protect herself. But Beck hadn’t given up, simply kept hammering away at every wall she erected.
She blinked at him again.
“Come on, Red.” His smile wavered. “Say yes.”
It was the nickname that did it. That awful, horrible nickname that he refused to stop using. She knew then he was serious. No man attempting to win a woman over with sweet whispers and thoughtful gestures would ever be so crass as to call her Red when her hair was so clearly not red.
She started to cry. Ugly, choking tears. She loved him. Always had. She’d just stopped believing he might ever love her back. But he’d changed. She saw now that the only person she’d been punishing all those long, lonely nights for the past three months was herself. Maybe it had taken Beck longer than she’d given him to figure out what he wanted, but he’d figured it out. And she had, too.
“Yes,” she managed to say, her hand shaking so hard she was amazed Beck managed to slip the ring on her finger. “Yes.”
She didn’t even hear the muted clapping that started, led by Beck’s parents, and quickly traveled the entire room. She was too busy staring at her fiancé. How had she ever thought she’d get over him?
Not that she was going to tell him. She had some pride.
“You scared me,” he murmured as he scooped her up into a hard embrace. She shivered in the steel grip of his arms. Poppy didn’t think she’d ever been held so tightly. “Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t call me Red,” she told him, still sniffling. “My hair is auburn.”
His laugh rumbled through her. “Whatever you say, love. I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you promise to be mine forever.”
She sniffled again. “Forever is a pretty long time.” She held her hand out, admiring the ring. “How did you know? Did Wynn tell you?”
“I just knew.”
“So Wynn told you,” she confirmed, reading between the lines.
“He suggested the store,” Beck admitted. “But I picked it out.”
As if he could be any more perfect. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers play with the soft curls at the edge of his collar.
He sighed and pulled her closer. “You know, you still haven’t told me you love me.”
“I agreed to marry you,” she pointed out, hiding her smile. He already knew. He wouldn’t tease her if he wasn’t certain.
He inclined his head at the truth of that statement. “Still, a guy likes to hear that his fiancée thinks he’s a good catch.”
“You’re a good catch.”
He laughed as the song came to an end and bent his head to whisper in her ear
. Her skin pebbled in anticipation. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“I hope so.” There were many inventive ways she’d be happy to pay him back over and over. She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs along his jawline. Hers. He was all hers. Forever. “I love you, Beck.”
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, when they were lying in her bed together, legs tangled, hearts pounding from the payment he’d just extorted from her, Poppy lifted her head from his chest and studied him. “What would you have done if I’d said no?”
He opened one eye to look at her. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t. But,” he continued before she asked how he’d been so certain, “I still had your keys, which, by the way, you are not getting back.”
“Oh, I’m not?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“No.” He closed his eye and settled more fully into the pillows. “They’re mine now. Just like you are.”
She probably shouldn’t be getting all warm and melty at his conceited statement. She wasn’t a possession and she was in charge of who had keys to her apartment. She told him so, but he only laughed.
“I’m still not giving them back.” His arms tightened around her. “And I’m not giving you up either. Deal with it.”
She started to say something but couldn’t think of anything witty, so she laid her head on his chest. Listening to the thump of his heart and letting his warmth soak into her was much better anyway.
“So when do you think we should get married?”
“Tomorrow.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Very funny.”
“I’m not kidding. Although maybe tomorrow is a bit soon. How about next week? You, me, a tropical beach somewhere.”
“Beck, be serious.” She played with the ends of his hair. “What about the summer? August is always beautiful.”
“I am not waiting until August.” He captured her hand, brought it to his lips. “Next week,” he murmured.
“No,” she murmured back. “August.”
“You say no now.” He let go of her hand and pulled her down for a long kiss. “But I think I can convince you.”
She kissed him back. “I’m willing to let you try.”
EPILOGUE
THE WEDDING TOOK place six months later.
Poppy had done her best to push for a summer ceremony when the weather would be hot and all the flowers and trees in bloom, but Beck had negated her concerns by reminding her that in the tropics the weather was warm and flowers bloomed year-round. They’d settled for the end of April at his parents’ house in Naramata, and unlike some compromises, in this instance everyone was happy. Beck didn’t have to wait too long and Poppy got her white Gatsby party.
“Oh, Poppy.”
Poppy turned to find her mother, hand covering her mouth, tears in her eyes. “Don’t start,” she warned, dabbing a tissue beneath her lashes just in case. “It took me forever to get my makeup right and if you get me going, my face will be ruined.”
And she refused to walk down the aisle looking like a raccoon. Not even one wearing the most amazing wedding dress ever.
Her mother simply sniffed and came to stand behind her in front of the mirror. “You look beautiful.”
Poppy smiled. She felt beautiful. Her square-necked dress had spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice covered in lace, and it belled out at midthigh to spill to the floor in tiers of chiffon. Her hair was pulled into an elegant bun and her only jewelry was a pair of drop chandelier earrings. Missy would be proud.
“Are you nervous?” her mom asked.
Poppy pressed a hand to her stomach, careful not to wrinkle the delicate fabric. “Just about being tripped when I walk down the aisle.”
“I did not trip Cami,” her mother said.
“You stepped on the hem of her dress.” While Poppy and the other wedding guests stood by wide-eyed.
“She walked in front of me.”
“She was the bride.”
“Never mind.” Her mother smoothed the sides of Poppy’s hair. “I promise not to trip you.”
“Who’s tripping?” Cami asked, entering the room with both her daughters. Holly immediately sprinted forward, screeching about her shoes and demanding to see Auntie Pop-pop’s, while Lily watched from beneath a furrowed brow, an elastic bow wrapped around her wispy-haired head.
“Mom,” Poppy said. “She says tripping the bride is a family tradition.”
“I did not say that and I didn’t trip—”
“The fact that I didn’t fall doesn’t mean you didn’t trip me,” Cami informed her, jiggling the baby.
Poppy held her foot out so Holly could see her very tall, very sparkly silver heels. “Pretty,” Holly oohed.
“And high,” Poppy said with a nod to her mother. “So no tripping even if I do walk in front of you.”
Her mother took the baby from Cami and cooed at her. “You don’t listen to them, Lily. Your grandma would never trip anyone.” She shot Poppy and Cami a quick glance. “Even if they deserved it.”
Cami laughed and produced a bottle of champagne from her diaper bag. Poppy texted Wynn to come join them for a drink, and the sun, which had been peeking out from the clouds all morning, broke through.
Poppy smiled. Her guests would not be doused by rain or buffeted by wind, which wasn’t always a guarantee in April.
The ceremony would take place in the side yard with the lush forest as their backdrop. Ball lanterns hung from the nearest trees and rows of golden chairs were laid out for seating. Ropes of pearl necklaces lay draped across the chair backs, as did feather boas in pristine white.
As much as she loved how the side yard was decorated, Poppy didn’t think it compared to the back. Not that she was trying to brag, but she’d outdone herself there.
Instead of traditional round tables set up on the expansive patio and still-winterized and covered pool, Poppy had mixed dining seating with loungers. The comfy chairs and long L-shaped couches were a peach shade so delicate it appeared white at first glance and matched the seats of the dining chairs, while the tablecloths were a darker hue and threaded with a diamond pattern in gold. The centerpieces were squat glass vases, so guests could converse easily during the meal, and filled with peach roses, white sweet peas, green buds and ivory feathers.
Spiral chandeliers hung from the patio’s awning and lent a glittery ambience. Heat lamps both standing and rolling ensured no one would be too cold. A jazz band was set up in the corner by the bar, where guests could order anything and everything, including a popular summer beverage made from an English liqueur and lemonade, bourbon poured from vintage, square-topped bottles and, of course, champagne from a tower.
It wouldn’t be a real Gatsby party without one.
Beck had even surprised her by renting period cars. She’d been shocked when the gray convertible had rolled up to her parents’ home to take them over to the compound. Her dad had called it a Silver Ghost with something close to awe in his tone. Poppy figured it was a guy thing. She didn’t get it, but the car’s beauty was undeniable.
Cami and Wynn texted that one had been sent for them, too, and more sat parked out front to complete the entire scene. As if she didn’t already love Beck enough.
“Put the wrap on,” Wynn said, sipping his champagne and pointing to the faux-fur shrug Poppy was still internally debating. She loved the wrap but feared it would hide the lace detailing of the gown’s bodice. “And the headpiece. We need to see the whole effect.”
Poppy took one more mouthful of bubbly, set the glass down and faced the mirror to affix the headpiece made up of netting and feathers and pale blue crystals. The jewels sparkled against her bright hair. She admired herself for a moment then slipped into the shrug and rose, doing a slow rotation for her audience.
Wynn steppe
d back with a critical eye before nodding. “You gorgeous thing. You look like a czarina.”
Cami cleared her throat. “I know everyone wants to look like a princess on their wedding day, but czarina might be taking the styling too far.”
“Your dress had a train,” Poppy pointed out.
“Yes, which is why Mom tripped me.”
“I didn’t.” Her mother defended herself, still rocking the baby. “You didn’t hit the ground.”
“Moot point.”
“You know what would have been perfect? Not that I don’t love your headpiece,” Wynn mused. “A matching fur hat. Like the ones the Russian army wears.” A brief pause. “Too much?”
They all stared at him.
“Okay, fine. Too much.”
* * *
“HOW ARE YOU FEELING?” Beck’s mother popped into the room he’d commandeered to get ready.
Beck finished straightening his bow tie before glancing at her. He still thought he and Poppy should have taken off for a warm beach somewhere and returned as Mr. and Mrs., but she’d been unwilling to negotiate on the subject. “I’m fine. Ready.”
Victoria brushed the shoulders of his jacket. “Your hair’s a little long.”
He shrugged. “No one’s going to be looking at my hair, Mom.”
Their relationship still wasn’t perfect. Beck had a tendency to pull back when she got too invested in his life, and Victoria still had what Beck liked to refer to as a “problem with oversharing,” but the majority of their old hurts were mended.
“True.” She fiddled with his hair anyway. “They’ll be watching Poppy. She’s gorgeous.” And Victoria would know as she’d just returned from checking in on her “almost-daughter-in-law.”
Beck smiled. “She always is.” And in a few short minutes, she’d be his forever. He fingered the wedding bands in his front pocket.
They’d decided against having attendants, opting for a smaller celebration with only their closest friends and family. Although Beck hadn’t wanted to put anyone else through the chore of trying to organize a bachelor party, nothing had been able to stop Jamie from kidnapping him from the office one Friday afternoon to fly to Vegas for a weekend with his closest buddies. Everyone had a great time and only minimal tequila was consumed. Even with Wynn in attendance.
Not Another Wedding Page 27
