The Only Rule: The Casual Rule 3

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The Only Rule: The Casual Rule 3 Page 23

by AC Netzel


  “Want to practice for the honeymoon?” I ask suggestively running my index finger down the front of his T-shirt.

  He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me to him. I can’t help but giggle.

  “Still can’t resist me?” he teases.

  “Not even a little bit.” I shake my head and sink my teeth down on my bottom lip.

  He laughs, a true lighthearted laugh. I know the Camille fog that loomed over us for so long has finally lifted.

  “You know, this will be the last time we have sex as single people,” I tell him.

  “Well then… let’s make it unforgettable.”

  ~o0o~

  And it was.

  Chapter 21

  I open my eyes and gasp, nearly jumping out of my skin. My heart just relocated directly to my throat. Through my blurred vision, I see my mother staring down at me.

  “It’s about time you woke up,” she complains.

  “Geez, Mom. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Rise and shine, baby girl. The big day is here. There’s much to do before the ceremony. Your sisters are already in the kitchen with Allie.”

  I place my hand over my mouth and let out a huge yawn. “What time is it?” I ask.

  “Nine o’clock. Up, up.” She pulls the pillow from under me, my head thumping onto the mattress. “The hairdresser will be here soon.”

  “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.” I sit up, placating her.

  “One minute,” she warns, wagging a finger in my direction.

  “Mom. Relax. I’m the bride. No one can do anything without me there.”

  “You don’t want to keep your groom waiting.”

  God forbid.

  “Worried he’s going to leave?” I tease.

  “Of course not,” she replies indignantly.

  She’s totally lying. Deep down she knows Ben’s not going anywhere, but she’s not willing to risk it.

  “The wedding isn’t until three o’clock. We have plenty of time,” I tell her.

  “Juju, please.”

  “Okay, okay. Have a cup of coffee. Or pop a valium. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Once she leaves, I plop back down, stare at my hanging wedding dress and smile. It feels like it took a lifetime, but our day has finally arrived. I have no idea what today has in store. Most of the details were kept from me.

  And I don’t care. All I want is to be his wife. To start our life. The what, where, when, or how make no difference whatsoever. The only thing that matters to me is who.

  My cell phone vibrates, I grab it off my nightstand and grin when I see Ben’s name appear.

  *Busy today?*

  *You’re not supposed to talk to me.*

  *I’m not supposed to see you.*

  I giggle and I text him back.

  *Tomato, tomato.*

  *That’s the same word.*

  *You know what I meant.*

  *The editor in you won’t let you misspell it, will it?*

  *Guilty.*

  *Tom-ah-to.*

  I laugh. He’s a bastard. I text him back.

  *Evil misspeller.*

  *Tell you what—to be safe, I’ll text with my eyes closed.*

  I tilt my head to the side as my smile widens.

  *My mother would have a coronary if she knew we were communicating.*

  *I won’t tell.*

  *You’re a bad influence.*

  *It’s one of my better qualities. What are you wearing?*

  *Dress. Long. White.*

  *What are you wearing now?*

  *Chastity belt.*

  *You think that’s going to stop me?*

  I chuckle.

  *Probably not. I’m sure you have some trick up your sleeve to unlock it.*

  *Houdini could have learned a thing or two from me.*

  For as much as I’m enjoying our morning tête-à-tête, I have to get going before my mother sics my sisters on me.

  *They’re waiting for me in my kitchen. I have to go.*

  *I just need a minute.*

  *We’re not sexting now.*

  I know he’s smiling.

  *Okay. Plan B.*

  *Plan B?*

  *Check your nightstand drawer.*

  *I said no sexting! I’m not taking BOB out on our wedding day. Anyway, he’s already packed up.*

  *Look inside.*

  Dropping the phone on my pillow, I stretch across the bed and open the small drawer in my nightstand where BOB the vibrator, breath spray, and condom packets once resided.

  There’s a small baby blue velvet box with a card inside the otherwise empty drawer. I have no idea how he managed to get it here without me knowing.

  *A wedding gift?*

  *Read the card.*

  I open the card, smiling and tearing up simultaneously.

  For Julia,

  My first love.

  And my last.

  My world.

  Today I get my wish.

  I love you.

  Always.

  Ben

  Swoon.

  Seriously.

  Swoon.

  I pick up my phone and send a text.

  *I love you too.*

  *Open the box.*

  My pulse races as I carefully open the box. I look inside and frown. There are dozens of tiny batteries. What the…?

  *Watch batteries?*

  *Making sure your watch is always in working order. Don’t want my wife trying to pick up random men by asking for the time.*

  Grr…

  *I was NOT trying to pick you up.*

  *So you claim.*

  *OMG! You’re crazy.*

  *Crazy for you.*

  “Julia!” my mother shouts from the living room. I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. I better end this before I get a dissertation on bad luck and weddings.

  *I really have to go.*

  *Just one request before you do.*

  *What?*

  *Save the first dance for me.*

  I close my eyes and my insides flutter as I lay a hand over my heart.

  *Always.*

  ~o0o~

  Allie and my sisters are sitting on the couch having mimosas in plastic champagne flutes. My nieces Emma and Olivia are off to the side playing some game on a cell phone.

  “Here.” Allie grabs a flute and holds it out to me.

  “If I start drinking at nine in the morning, I’m going to be napping by noon,” I tell her.

  “Just one—to toast your wedding day.”

  “The last time you said ‘just one’, a bottle of tequila was annihilated.”

  “The last time—your mother wasn’t here. There’s no way Rose will allow us to get tipsy, let alone drunk.”

  “That’s correct, Allison,” my mother adds as she walks in from the kitchen, holding her mimosa filled flute.

  Rose Conti is the only person on the planet Allie fears. More than her own mother. Her maternal glare could make anyone assume the fetal position. I’ve seen her do it.

  It’s impressive.

  I take the mimosa from Allie and wait for the toast. I know she’s going to mortify me in front of my mother. She gets some sick kick out of it. I take a breath and brace myself as everyone raises their glasses.

  “To Julia and Ben. I have never met two people who truly belonged to each other until you met each other. Your love story is what fairy tales hope for. I’m so happy you found ‘the one’. And he is, Jules. The one. He really is.” She smiles, her eyes welling as she continues. “May your lives be filled with love and happiness forever.”

  We raise our glasses, clink them, and each takes a sip.

  “Oh, and may you have a lifetime of hot, sweaty, dirty sex,” she adds, raising a brow.

  “Amen, momma!” my sister Isabelle chimes in, high-fiving Allie.

  Sophie giggles while side-eyeing the younger girls to remind us to keep it clean for now on. My mother disapprovingly shakes her head, but I caught her secret smile.r />
  I glance around the room at these magnificent women. My heroes, my rocks… All teary-eyed over my happiness and the floodgates open.

  Allie stands and removes the flute from my hand. “No more booze for Julia until she eats. She’s already blubbering.”

  ~o0o~

  My regular hairdresser, Vicki, came to my apartment on a rare Saturday off, just to do my hair. Getting her was one of the few details I was able to pull off.

  Ben likes my long hair down, so she worked her magic with loose curls cascading down my back.

  I don’t care about contouring and camera-ready foundations. I don’t need extra long lashes. I want to look like me today. So despite the fact that my sisters thought I was crazy, I did my own makeup.

  I unhook my dress from the ceiling fan in my soon-to-be old bedroom. The second I tried on this dress at the bridal shop, I knew it was my dress. My mother swears it was made just for me. It’s a figure hugging long silk and lace gown with a strapless sweetheart neckline and hundreds of tiny crystals and pearls covering the silky white bodice.

  My dress is perfect.

  Not wanting anyone else to see the racy, white lace corset I’m wearing under my gown, I dress myself. I’m saving it for Ben’s eyes only. Allie convinced me to buy it. She said it was the perfect combination of virgin and vixen. She was right. Between this provocative little number and the matching G-string, I’m guaranteed to be his favorite wedding gift to unwrap.

  “Are you dressed?” my mom asks as she opens the door.

  “Does it matter? You’re already in here.” I tell her, turning around.

  She places her hands on her cheeks. “Oh, Julia. You’re radiant. So beautiful.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Turn around and lift up your hair,” she says. “I’ll button up the back of your dress and put the necklace on you.”

  I gather my hair to the side and hold it up while my mother buttons my dress then secures the clasp to my something old, new, borrowed, and blue diamond and sapphire cross necklace.

  “Okay. You can let go. I’ll grab your veil.”

  I walk over to the full length mirror in my bedroom and stare at myself. It’s like I’m living in a dream with someone else’s reflection staring back at me. But it’s me. This is all really happening.

  My mother stands behind me, peeking over my shoulder and smiles warmly. She takes the small diamond comb my veil is attached to and secures it in my hair, just like she promised on the day of my first communion.

  Placing her hands on my arms, she peeks over my shoulder again at stares at our reflections.

  “Oh, Juju. You’re gorgeous,” her voice cracks, her eyes tearing up. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For giving me this. For waiting for me.”

  “Aww, Mom. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

  “Oh, baby girl.” She grabs a tissue and dabs her eyes.

  “Mom, please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.”

  “I’m not crying. I’m misting.”

  There’s a light tap on the door. “Is everyone decent in there?”

  “Yeah, Dad. You can come in.”

  The door opens and he enters. I turn around and smile at him in his black tuxedo. He stops in his tracks and sucks in a breath.

  “How do I look?” I ask warily.

  He places his hand over his mouth then exhales a shaky breath. His eyes well as he composes himself.

  “Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he says, wiping away a tear I pretend I didn’t see.

  My dad is usually unflappable. Seeing him choke back emotion like this is humbling. He walks over to me and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek.

  My mother grabs another tissue from my dresser and hands it to me. “Don’t ruin your makeup.”

  “Thanks.” I grab the tissue and dab my eyes before I end up looking like a raccoon bride.

  “It’s time, Juju,” he says, looking down at his watch.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  ~o0o~

  Two white stretch limousines are waiting in front of the apartment building. My bridesmaids, now dressed in identical navy blue V-neck lace dresses, load into one limo along with my mother in the last Mother-of-the-Bride gown she’ll ever wear. My niece Olivia is dressed in a navy blue lace junior bridesmaid dress and Emma’s in an adorable white, no longer stained, flower girl dress.

  My dad and I slide in the other car. I sit back and beam at the bouquet in my hand.

  Daisies with white silk ribbons tying the stems together. Dainty, understated, exquisite. Exactly what I wanted. I don’t know how Ben managed to rein in Stuart’s floral extravagance, but I’m thrilled he did.

  My father reaches his hand over and squeezes mine.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. Do you know where we’re going?”

  He nods, amused by my fishing for information. “Yup.”

  “City Hall?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” he answers, with humor in his tone. “Maybe not. Ben’s a good man. Jumped through a lot of hoops to put this together.”

  “He is.”

  “I used to say the right man would swim across an entire ocean just to sit next to you at dinner.”

  “And you think Ben would?”

  “I’m willing to bet once he met you, he went straight to a sporting goods store and bought himself a snorkel.”

  “I’m glad you like him.” I take a quick peek out the window. We’re heading uptown. Cross off City Hall. That’s downtown.

  “He’s almost good enough for my daughter,” he says with a wink.

  I smile. “Almost?”

  “Nobody will ever be good enough for you,” the side of his mouth quirks up, “but he’s close. Besides, we have something pretty significant in common.”

  “Yeah, baseball this, baseball that.” Once Ben and my father get in a room, all conversation steers directly to team stats and trades.

  “No, not baseball.”

  “Then what?”

  He smiles again, patting his hand on mine.

  “You, my beautiful daughter. You.”

  Tilting my head, I smile. “I love you, Daddy.” I blink back my tears, desperately trying to avoid a makeup meltdown.

  “Love you too, Juju bean,” he says quietly.

  I turn my head and stare out the window. If our eyes meet, I’m going to break down. And I’ve been holding it together pretty well so far.

  I drum my fingers on my lap as my anxious energy builds. The anticipation of today has caught up with me and I’m a bundle of excited, panicky nerves.

  “Nervous?” he asks.

  “Yeah, a little,” I admit.

  “Do you remember your first day of kindergarten?”

  “Oh God, I was terrified.”

  “Killed me to see my little girl so anxious. I thought your mom and I would have to sit next to you at your desk the entire day to get you to stay.”

  “Remember how you calmed me down?”

  He nods. “I gave you a paperclip to carry with you to remind you that I was always with you and you weren’t alone.” He digs into his tuxedo pocket. “I brought this… just in case.” He opens his hand and a small silver paper clip is resting in his palm. “Here.”

  I smile and turn my bouquet upside down, taking the paper clip and attaching it to one of the white silk ribbons.

  “Now you won’t be nervous. I’ll be right there with you,” he says softly.

  Sometimes words aren’t needed to know how much my father loves me. This small silver paperclip tells me everything.

  “Thank you.”

  He takes my hand, squeezes it, never releasing it. We sit in comfortable silence, lost in our thoughts until the limo stops.

  “Central Park?” I ask.

  Of course. The place where we began.

  “Your next chariot awaits.” He points out the window.

  I peek out and watch my bridesmaids laughing as they shuffle out
of their limo. The driver hands out small daisy bouquets from the trunk of the car to each bridesmaid and a small white basket of petals to Emma.

  There’s a line of pedicabs waiting. The pedicab drivers are dressed casually in jeans, T-shirts, and bowties. Marcello is there too, directing the bridal party into a line and snapping pictures with Peter working as his ‘super short-notice’ assistant.

  I love my friends.

  My father slides out of our car, opens my door, and greets me on my side of the limo. He extends a hand out and I place mine in his.

  “Are you sure about this? We could always turn the car around and go to Atlantic City instead.”

  I chuckle, nodding my head. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure.”

  He laughs, pulling me out of the car. “Okay, let’s get you hitched.”

  ~o0o~

  Marcello must have snapped a thousand pictures already— with my mom, my dad and every combination of bridesmaid possible.

  “Don’t you have enough pictures?” Allie complains.

  “No.” He smirks, side-eying me with a fake scowl. “This is Julia’s punishment for stealing my free-pass boyfriend.”

  Peter rolls his eyes. There’s not a jealous bone in his body. There doesn’t need to be. Marcello is all talk. He’d never use a free-pass because that would give Peter the right to use his. And Marcello’s entire skeleton is composed of jealousy.

  Marcello snaps one final picture. “We’re done.” I know that last shot was a spite photo and I laugh.

  We file into the pedicabs and bicycle to our next destination.

  My dad holds my hand the entire route as I rub the paper clip with my thumb to soothe my nerves. I smile when the pedicab stops at Bethesda Terrace.

  Perfect.

  Raising my hand up, he presses a sweet kiss on my knuckles.

  “Showtime,” he says.

  The driver helps us out of the pedicab and my wedding party beams at me.

  Allie walks over and hugs me. “Go marry the shit out of that man,” she exclaims.

  I laugh. “I plan to.”

  My mother plows through my sisters, heading straight for me, and adjusts my veil. “You have to look perfect for your groom.”

  A blonde, middle-aged woman in a dark navy pant suit greets us, waving her clipboard in the air. “Welcome bridal party! I’m Tara. I’ll be directing you from here on,” she says in a pleasant but professional manner as she approaches me. “Julia, you’re going to take your groom’s breath away when he sees you.”

 

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