Drop Dead Gorgeous (41 page)

Twenty-one days out:

@ I looked out the window of Roberta's wonderful Victorian, watching Wyatt standing in front of the arbor below, in her marvelous flower garden. "He should be sitting down," I said anxiously. "He's been standing too long."

"Here," said Mom, pulling me around and handing my earrings to me. "Put these in."

I turned back to the window as I slipped the posts through the holes in my ear lobes and secured them. "He looks pale."

"He's marrying you,"
Siana
murmured. "Of course he's pale."

Roberta and
Jenni
both started laughing. I gave
Siana
an indignant look and she burst out laughing, too. For the past three weeks, all I'd heard was jokes about how I'd kick someone when she was down, how bloodthirsty I
was,
things like that. Even Wyatt had gotten in on it, saying that he'd never felt safer in his life than he did with me guarding him. Dad had told me once, in apparent
seriousness, that
the NFL had heard about my talents and called wanting to know if I'd try out as a place kicker. Only Mom hadn't made any jokes, but I thought that was probably because she'd have kicked anyone who shot Dad and she knew it.

Wyatt had spent three days in the hospital. I think they should have kept him longer, but insurance companies dictate how long a patient can be hospitalized, and at the end of three days, he went home. The surgeon who had patched him up had told me Wyatt was healing faster than people usually did, but you know, when someone has a hole punched in his chest you just sort of expect him to be hospitalized for, say, at least
four
days. Three was ridiculous. Three was almost
criminal
.

He could barely creep around under his own steam when I took him home. He had to do breathing exercises, huffing and puffing into this pipe thing that measured his lung capacity. He was in a lot of pain, and I knew it because he didn't even argue about taking his pain medication.

A week after he'd been shot, he started refusing the pain medication except at night, so he could sleep. After ten days, he refused it even then. The fourteenth day, he started doing physical conditioning. Exactly three weeks to the day after he was shot, we were getting married.

We didn't make the wedding deadline. We missed it by two days, but it was his fault for getting shot so he had to forfeit.

Megan had been in the hospital longer than Wyatt. Who cared? She hadn't been able to make bail yet, so she'd gone from the hospital to jail, and there she sat. As far as I was concerned, she could rot there. I didn't care about her unhappiness or her ruined life or her personality disorder, or whatever else her attorney might say when the trial started. She had
shot Wyatt
, and I still had very satisfying dreams of tearing her limb from limb and throwing the pieces to a pack of hyenas.

But today, none of that mattered. It was a gorgeous October day, the temperature was perfect, hovering right around seventy, and we were getting married. Our wedding cake, awaiting us in Roberta's dining room, was a work of art. The food… well, the food wasn't what we'd planned, because the caterer did fall through, but all the men seemed relieved. Evidently the testosterone crowd liked chicken fingers better than it did delicately seasoned spinach wraps. The flowers were breathtaking; Roberta had outdone herself with them.

And my gown… ah, my gown.
It was just what I'd envisioned. The heavy silk flowed around me like water, but didn't cling. The creamy white held just a touch of champagne richness in the color, so you couldn't decide if the color was off-white or the palest gold. Without it being vulgar in any way, I thought it was just about the sexiest gown I'd ever seen. I just didn't know if Wyatt was in any shape to properly appreciate it. We hadn't made love since he'd been shot, to his great annoyance, because I didn't want to put too much strain on his healing body and maybe cause a setback. He was more than annoyed. He was downright pissed off about it.

I hoped this gown shot him straight into lust-induced insanity. And I hoped he didn't collapse under the strain.

My beautiful shoes hurt only a little bit. So long as I kept my broken toe immobilized, I could walk mostly pain free. I was determined not to limp, though. The bandage was clear, and the shoe straps happened to fall almost exactly on the edges so unless you got down on your knees and stared at my foot you wouldn't even see the bandage.

The guest list was a tad bigger than I'd intended. Just about every off-duty cop—and his or her spouse or significant other—was in the garden below. So were Sally and Jazz, holding hands, and their kids and spouses, except for Luke who had refused to bring a girlfriend to a wedding just on general principle. Wyatt's sister, Lisa, her husband, and their two children were there. Great
Bods
was closed for the day, because all of my employees were there.
Siana
and
Jenni
had both elected not to bring dates because they said they'd be too busy to fool with them. There wasn't a bride's side and a groom's
side,
there was just a great gathering of friends who could sit wherever they wanted.

"The music's started," said Mom. She was looking out the window, too. "And Wyatt just checked his watch for the second time."

Before he blew his impatience gasket, we all trooped down to the foyer, with
Siana
and
Jenni
behind me helping me hold up the short train on the gown so I wouldn't trip on it and fall down the stairs. My latest batch of bruises and scrapes had just healed; we didn't want to start another bunch.

Then they kissed me, the four of them—my mom, my almost-mother-in-law, and my sisters—and walked out into the garden to take their seats. No one was escorting me down the aisle. No one was giving me away. Dad had already done his duty once, and that was enough for any man. I was going to Wyatt under my own steam, walking alone. And he was waiting for me, alone.

The music swelled, turned joyful, and I walked out. The gown flowed around me, showing the shape of my leg here, the curve of my hip there, for a fleeting instant before all was hidden again. The bodice clung to my breasts like the chocolate coating to an M&M. I did
not
limp.
Not at all.
Truth to tell, I completely forgot about my broken toe, because Wyatt had turned to watch me walking toward him and his green eyes blazed with fire and light.

After the ceremony, when we were standing holding
hands.Mom
came up to hug and kiss both of us. Wyatt caught her right hand and carried it to his lips. "If it's true that in thirty years a bride will be just like her mother… I can't wait."

He's a smart man, my husband, maybe too smart.

With that one sentence, he put my mother firmly in his corner for the rest of her life. I wanted her in mine.

Thirty-four days out

"I can't believe you did this!" Wyatt barked into my ear.

"Can't believe I did what?" I asked innocently. He was at work, and so was I. Married life had been rocking along just great, thank you, except for a few little details.

"It's
notarized
!"

I waited, but he didn't add anything.
"And?"
I finally prompted.

"And only legal documents are supposed to be notarized! This is a
list
!"

"But you weren't paying any attention to it." When his list of transgressions had been lying ignored on the table for over a week, just what was I supposed to do?

Have it notarized and sent to him registered mail, that's what.

Blair's
Krispy
Kreme
Doughnut Bread Pudding

There's, like, a hundred different versions of this recipe.

1 only
make
it for special occasions or when I want to suck up to somebody, because it's so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. And I don't put raisins in my bread pudding; raisins are a Yankee thing. I think they look like bugs.

To begin with, use a 13 x 9-inch glass pan. The glass is so the pudding won't stick. If you want to use a disposable aluminum pan, then I guess it doesn't matter if the pudding sticks.

Anyway, preheat the oven to 350. That's Fahrenheit. I don't do Kelvin or Celsius because they're just weird.

Here's what you need:

2 dozen
Krispy
Kreme
glazed doughnuts, torn into little chunks. Actually, I like the crullers better than the glazed doughnuts, because the texture seems more bread-pudding-like, but go with your favorite. Put the chunks in a large bowl.

3 eggs, beaten.
You may like yours merely subdued, but I want mine beaten. Don't add them to the doughnuts yet.

1 can
sweetened
condensed milk. Add to eggs. Beat together.

Vanilla flavoring to taste.
Add to milk and egg mixture.

Use 1 teaspoon if you don't like a strong vanilla taste, add more if you do. The whole point of this is to make the bread pudding the way you like it.
¹
/
₂
stick
melted butter.

Cinnamon to taste.
It takes way more cinnamon than you probably expect, but start out with a little and keep adding until it tastes right.

Pour all this into the bowl of doughnut chunks, and stir. It'll be too dry, because now you have to make a choice. You can either put in a can of fruit cocktail, with the juice, which gives the pudding enough moisture—and in a weird way the fruit cocktail cuts down on the sweetness—or, if the idea of fruit cocktail in a bread pudding gives you the heebie-jeebies, just start adding milk, a little at a time, and stirring it in, until the texture seems right to you, not so juicy that it's soup but moist enough that it's kind of like a lumpy cake batter.

Now you have another choice to make: chopped pecans, or no chopped pecans. I love it with the pecans. If you decide to use them, add 1 cup to the mixture and stir well.

You can also add a little nutmeg, about 1 teaspoon, if you like. I usually don't.

Pour into pan and bake for 30 minutes. Check with a toothpick to see if it's done. If it isn't, let it cook for another five minutes and check it again. Ovens are weird;
what's
350 on mine might be 342 on someone else's. And I don't get the altitude thing at all.

Take it out and let it cool. Add a glaze if you like,
then
dig in. If you don't want to fool with a glaze but the pudding looks naked with nothing on top, then buy some cans of ready-made frosting and put on it. Talk about sugar overload. Whoa, Mama. If you want to make a glaze, here are two recipes:

Simple Sugar Glaze

2 cups confectioners' sugar

3 to 4 tablespoons milk or water

Mix together, and beat until it becomes smooth and
pourable
. Drizzle over the bread pudding. If this isn't enough, make more.

Buttermilk Glaze

1/4 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup sugar