Star Promise (41 page)

Ignoring the ambience, Bridget was happy to see me. “Look at my dress, Daddy,” she ordered. “I’m still very clean.”

“Nice work, baby.” I wasn’t sure if Ryan and Bente needed a moment alone or a referee, but I was keen to escape the room. I picked up my very clean kid and headed down the hall. “We’ll leave you two to talk,” I offered.

I found Charli in the bedroom, but unlike me, she wasn’t trying to find a safe haven. She was plotting a way of dragging the day back from the brink of disaster.

I dropped Bridget on the bed, making no attempt to rebuke her when she started bouncing. My concentration was entirely on my wife, who was standing by the closet half wearing a dress I hadn’t seen in years.

“It’s not customary to wear a wedding dress to someone else’s wedding, Coccinelle,” I teased. “You might upstage the bride.” It wouldn’t have been hard at that point. The bride was looking a little worse for wear.

“Shut up and help me,” she replied laughing. “Please.”

I took my time, trying to figure out what she had planned. I came up with only one scenario, and if I was right, it was going to be on par with the Cossack trouser debacle.

“You want us to stand in for them, don’t you?”

Charli scraped her hair into a pile on top of her head, giving me access to the row of buttons down the back of her dress. “It’s all I could come up with,” she replied. “It’s too late to cancel. Your mum will be a wreck.” One by one I fastened the fiddly little buttons while she laid out her plan in its entirety. “Most of the guests are friends of your parents. They won’t even know that we’re ring-ins,” she pointed out. “And your mum is desperate to see one of her sons get married. It won’t kill us to give that to her.”

I turned her to face me. “You want to get married again?”

Her gorgeous smile hit my heart. “Yes I do,” she replied. “I just love marrying you.”

I was too thankful for that admission to protest. I’d vowed a long time ago to give her anything she wanted – even if it was a big church wedding in front of hundreds of people we didn’t know.

My hand slipped across the soft fabric of her dress as I pulled her in close. “I guess we’re getting married then.”

Ryan once travelled all the way across town to settle a restaurant tab that I couldn’t cover. It happened at a time when relations between the queen and I were at an all-time low, and even now I counted it as one of the most hopeless situations I’d ever been in. He swooped in and saved the day without hesitation – and I wanted to return the favour.

My wedding dress had been hanging in the closet for years, and until Adam fastened the last button I was nervous about getting into it. Pre-Bridget I was athletic and girlish, but I was softer now and somewhere along the line I’d achieved the impossible and grown some boobs.

I smoothed my hands across my stomach and studied my reflection. “Do you think it looks okay?” I asked.

Adam tugged at the bow on the back of my dress. “Is that a trick question?” he asked. “You’re beautiful.”

No life could be better than the one I’d found with him. We’d met at a time when I was utterly unlikable – even to myself. Adam was a boy I’d considered to be so far out of my league that believing that he loved me took effort.

Over time, the pedestal I’d placed him on moved to lower ground, allowing us to meet somewhere in the middle. Adam Décarie wasn’t a perfect man, and once he stopped pretending to be, I loved him a whole lot more.

I studied him through the mirror, making no secret of it. Adam stared straight back.

“I couldn’t have gotten through the last month without you,” I said finally.

“You don’t have to get through a single minute without me.”

And that was the beauty of finding my other half. No matter how turbulent our lives could be at times, we were constant and united.

The subject of returning to Australia had only been mentioned in passing, but I’d woken that morning with the unyielding urge to pull the pin and do it. A wedding seemed like the perfect grand finale to our New York life.

“Today will be special,” I whispered. “A new chapter.”

“Same book though, right?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “You signed on for the extended version.”

Somewhere along the line I learned to be adaptable, which probably explained why sitting in a limo on the way to my second wedding didn’t faze me. The company was stellar. Neither of my girls caught me staring, and if they had it wouldn’t have bothered them. They were used to it.

“Why are you breaking it, Mummy?” asked Bridget, trying to make a grab for Charli’s bouquet.

“I’m not breaking it.” Charli shifted it out of her reach while she looked it over. “I’m fixing it.” She plucked a red rose out of the mix and handed it to Bridget. “Do you like the red or white roses best?”

Our little girl pulled her best pouty face and deliberated. “The white ones.”

Charli handed her another red rose. “Me too.”

“What’s the matter with it?” I asked curiously.

My gorgeous bride lifted her head. “Red and white flowers should never be put in the same bouquet. It’s extremely bad luck,” she explained. “I did warn Fiona.”

I tutted in mock outrage. “The nerve of the woman.”

Her smile was stunning. “Are you doubting the legend, Boy Wonder?”

“Never.” I held my hand to my heart. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Some believe that red and white roses represent blood and bandages during wartime. They don’t go together.” She twisted the bouquet, looking it over. “Maybe blood and bandages played a part in the wedding plans coming unstuck.”

“Maybe you should’ve told Ryan that story.”

She shook her head. “He’s not superstitious.”

“I’m superlicious!” squealed Bridget.

Charlotte handed her another red rose. “You are,” she agreed laughing..

“Why do we have to marry Daddy today?”

Charli locked her warm brown eyes on mine. “Because we love him.”

Bridget dropped the flowers on her lap and sank down in her seat, stretching her legs as far as she could in a bid to reach me. Her little booted feet rested on my knees. “We really love you, Daddy.”

I grabbed her feet. “How lucky am I?”

“Very lucky,” she replied. “So much lucky.”

The ride to the church didn’t take as long as we’d anticipated. I don’t pretend to know much about wedding etiquette, but something told me that turning up half an hour before the ceremony wasn’t the done thing.

“We could wait in the car for a while,” I suggested.

“I’m on to you, Adam.” Charli grinned. “We’re going to have to face your parents some time.”

“I’ll hold your hand, Dad,” Bridget offered.

If Bridget thought I needed support, I must’ve really looked nervous.

“You have to, baby,” I replied, forcing a smile. “You’re my best girl.” For the first time that afternoon, I was feeling inconvenienced. Pulling Ryan out of the line of fire meant putting ourselves there instead. I had trouble dealing with my mother at the best of times, and this was not going to be one of them. Dealing with my father was worse. We hadn’t spoken to him in days, and I was enjoying the respite.

The break in drama was effectively over the second we got out of the car. Bridget chose that moment to make a life-altering decision. “I really don’t like boots,” she announced.

The shocked look on Charli’s face was warranted. It was a move neither of us had seen coming. Trying to convince Bridget to keep them on was pointless – she’d already kicked them off.

I leaned down and picked them up. “What are you going to wear when you walk down the aisle?” I asked.

“Just toes and feet.”

I handed her the boots and scooped her up. “Right then. Toes and feet it is.”

“Can I tell you something?” asked Charli in a tiny voice.

“Of course,” I replied. “As long as it’s true.”

“I don’t like my shoes either.” She lifted the hem of her dress and looked at her feet. “I want to take them off.”

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “It’s your day,” I reasoned. “I’m pretty sure you can do whatever you want.”

Charli shifted her bouquet to her other hand and pulled off her heels. Bridget found the move hysterical, giggling so hard that keeping a grip on her took work. I hitched her higher on my hip. “Are we good to go now, ladies?”

“Can I tell you something else?” Charli asked.

“Anything.”

She rested her hand on Bridget’s back and whispered in my ear. “I want to go home to the beach.”

I’d been waiting to hear those words for months. I wasn’t sure what had brought it on, but I wasn’t going to question it. Downplaying my joy was impossible but I tried, masking my smile with a kiss. “I love you so very much,” I whispered, resting my forehead against hers.

“Daddy, Mamie’s coming,” announced Bridget, tugging on my jacket.

I straightened up to see my mother barrelling along the sidewalk. “No, no, no!” she cried. “Where’s your brother?”

I glanced at Charli before replying. “There’s been a change of plans, Ma.”

She stood in front us, looking Charli up and down. There was no need to explain. The wedding dress clued her in quickly. “You’re getting married?” she asked shakily.

“We’re the understudies.” Charlotte passed her bouquet to me and grabbed Mom’s hands.

I’d been trying to pre-empt the queen’s reaction for hours. I expected wailing. What I didn’t expect was the unladylike swearing that accompanied it.

“What’s wrong with you boys?” she growled. “Why can’t you just be normal? I raised imbeciles!”

Charli gallantly braved the outburst by holding her hands tighter. “Everything is fine,” she assured her. “There will be a wedding today. We hope you’ll be a part of it.”

Mom snatched her hands free. “Of course I will.” She smoothed the sides of her pale blue dress. “I’ve waited long enough for this, don’t you think?”

“You look lovely, Mamie.” Bridget’s comment came at just the right time.

Mom softened in an instant. “Thank you, darling,” she beamed, reaching to pinch her cheeks. “You do too. Where are your boots?”

Bridget twisted in my arms, lifting her foot. “I took them off. I really hate boots.”

Dumbstruck, Mom glanced at me, then Charli.

“We’re moving on to a new phase, Mamie,” beamed Charlotte.

That might’ve been an opportune time to mention that we were flying the coop again, but neither of us did.

Mom began fussing with Charli’s hair. “You look beautiful, darling,” she praised. “But you always do.”

Charlotte tugged at her dress, probably making sure her feet were hidden. Mom would’ve rescinded the compliment if she’d known she’d ditched her shoes.

“Is Ryan alright?” asked Mom, turning to me.

Jumping to the conclusion that my brother had been jilted at the altar was a reasonable leap. The real story was far less believable.

“He’s fine,” I assured her. “Bente got a little overwhelmed. They opted for a civil service.”

She nodded, resigned. “I just want them to be happy,” she said solemnly.

“I’m happy, Mamie,” interjected Bridget cheerily. “I’m getting married to my Daddy today.”

“Yes, my darling,” she replied, perking up in an instant. “You are.”

“I’m the best girl.”

Mom took a moment to think things through. Over the years she’d become adaptable too. A four-year-old best girl wasn’t too hard to come to terms with. “I think you and I should head inside,” she suggested, opening her arms. Bridget leaned forward, falling into them. After fussing with her hair, Mom lowered Bridget to her feet and straightened her dress. “Quick, darling.” She took her hand. “It’s too cold out here for little girls.”

Neither of us said a word as we watched them disappear through the front doors of the church, heading into the great unknown. I had no idea what sort of production we were about to take part in, but I knew it was huge.

Guests started filing through the doors, and the only person I recognised was Mrs Brown. She gave us a wave and we both waved back.

I leaned toward Charli. “Do you want to make a run for it?”

“No,” she replied firmly. “We can do this.”

I slipped my arm around her waist. “You really do look beautiful in that dress.”

“Despite the bare feet?”

“I like you barefoot.” I dipped my head, chasing her lips. “Although I’d prefer you barefoot and pregnant – in our little cottage on the beach.”

She smiled slyly. “You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?”

“I know when it’s time to change course, Charlotte.” I breathed the words into her hair. “It’s been a tough few months for us. We deserve better times.”

“Regrets?”

I tilted my head, half shrugging. “No, just an overwhelming desire to get back to normal. Our normal isn’t in New York.”

We hadn’t seen Jean-Luc in days, and there would be no escaping him today. Adam’s hackles went up the instant he spotted him. I wasn’t quite so tense.

“My children and their stupid schemes,” he announced, throwing his arms wide as he walked toward us. I was actually glad that was his opening remark. It meant the queen had clued him in and we didn’t have to explain.

“This is a happy day, Dad,” Adam grumbled. “Don’t make a scene.”

“I have no intention of doing any such thing.” Jean-Luc stopped in front of us and folded his arms. “Am I still giving the bride away?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’m not walking that big aisle by myself.”

Adam wasn’t thrilled to be handing me over. Hearing him lay down the law wasn’t unexpected. It was a given. “If you so much as insult a hair on her head –”

“You should go inside, Adam,” Jean-Luc interrupted. “Bridget was dismantling the flower arrangements on the altar when I left.”

I didn’t doubt for a second it was true. “Adam, go,” I urged, shooing him away with my bouquet. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

He nodded stiffly, looking torn. “Don’t be too long.”

I wondered what he thought was going to happen.

Jean-Luc waited until Adam began walking away, and called him back. His constant need to get the last word in infuriated me, but I held my tongue and waited for him to speak. So did Adam.