Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story (36 page)

“We could get married now.” He spoke softly, his voice filled with a yearning I hadn’t realized he felt.

Given how quickly he’d asked me to marry him, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the quiet declaration but I was. And yet … I didn’t completely reject the idea out of hand either. Thinking it over some more, I found I rather quite liked it. A long engagement was the exact opposite of what I wanted.

“You know I want nothing more than to marry you,” I said, running my hand absently over his chiseled washboard abs. “When we get back to L.A., I’ll look in to everything and we do something as soon as possible. Maybe we’ll skip the whole big wedding and just have a small ceremony and then a reception at home. I could probably pull something together for the end of the summer, once everything dies down and all the vendors have time in their schedules.” I hadn’t been one of those little girls who planned on having a fairytale wedding so it didn’t really matter to me what we did. The only thing I cared about was becoming Mrs. Scott.

I scooted out from his embrace to face him. I wanted to be able to see his face when he spoke so I could gauge his reaction. Not that I hadn’t learned he was a master at locking his emotions down so I couldn’t read him if he didn’t want me to. “Filming should be wrapped by then so we’ll only need to work around publicity and maybe some re-shoots. The schedule should work.”

When his face betrayed no feeling one way or the other, I worried that maybe I’d shot far wide of the mark. What if instead of a quiet, relaxed wedding he wanted something big and traditional back in Ohio so that all of his extended family could join us? When we’d first gotten engaged, I told myself if that was what he wanted, I would work with his mom to make it happen.

“I don’t want to wait that long,” he whispered, his words pulling me out of my head.

“Okaaaaaay,” I responded, mentally shifting our schedules around to find a time that accommodated his desire for something sooner that still worked with his schedule. Since I no longer had a job – unless I decided to take the one with Shanna – my schedule was obvious the more flexible one, but I didn’t see a way to make something earlier work unless we went down to the Justice of the Peace and I really wasn’t thrilled with that idea. And with Cameron about to become incredibly busy for a prolonged period of time, I didn’t think Broderick would be willing to give him a break to run off and get married. Especially given all the grief Cameron’s personal life had already cost him.

“Sarah?”

The uncertainty in of his name on my lips had me forgetting all of the schedules and tactics and strategies I’d been sorting through in my mind. “Yes?”

“Don’t laugh, but I think I want to marry you here. As soon as we can.”

“Here?” My question came out as a squeak, but as I considered it, in many ways getting married in Eagle Harbour made sense.

“If my sisters taught me anything, it’s that you’ve probably had your perfect wedding planned since you were six years old, but maybe you could consider this idea too? I’d give anything to make you happy, but the last few days the idea sort of stuck in my head and I haven’t been able to shake it.”

I laughed. “Cameron Scott, it’s like you don’t even know me! Do I look like the type of woman who planned her wedding when she was six years old?”

He peered at me through half-lidded eyes. “Well, you are a woman.”

I smacked his arm. “Besides, if I had planned my wedding when I was six years old, I’d be marrying Zach Morris and dancing my first dance to New Kids on the Block. To be honest, I like the idea of marrying you here in Eagle Harbour much, much better.” I launched myself into his embrace and planted a series of quick, joyful kisses all over his face. He wrapped his arms around my middle, held me tight, and returned my kisses with equal parts glee and heat.

“I was thinking New Year’s Eve sounded good …”

Oh wow, that was fast. When he’d said “as soon as we can” I still hadn’t understood his meaning. I’d thought with us being in Vancouver for filming we’d fly over for a quick sunset beach wedding and then fly back when filming resumed but it occurred to me now this wasn’t some half-baked plan and when he’d said the idea had stuck with him he hadn’t been exaggerating. He’d obviously thought it through and had done some calculations of his own in regards to our respective schedules. As he continued laying it out for me, showing me with his words how utterly perfect – and absolutely romantic – it could be, I was in perfect agreement.

“We could do it here, literally. Alex checked and if we want we can rent the house for the rest of the winter from Thad. We could have the ceremony on the beach out front. It might be freezing and wet, but it might not.” He shrugged because as we’d learned, there was no use planning around an Eagle Harbour winter. Since we’d been here we’d experienced freezing sleet, torrential rain, and warm, clear days. “If the weather turns nasty we can say our vows inside in front of the fire. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Some of our friends have already said they’ll come up.”

“Wait, what?” I bolted upright and stared at him, my jaw slack.

“Um … so, don’t get mad, but I kind of called Mike on Monday and told him what I was thinking. You know, ran it past him to see if I was being crazy.” He laughed, a low sexy rumble. “He reminded me that when it comes to you I tend to go a bit crazy and lose my head. He also said to tell you to go easy on me because I’m only making up for lost time and can’t seem to help myself. But yeah, he said of course he’d come and he was sure he could wrangle a few others. Since then, the texts have been coming in all week. If we get married on New Year’s Eve, we’ll have at least ten friends from back home.”

“When did you … how?”

“You tend to take long showers Sarah,” he responded, as if that explained everything. “Like I said, once I got the idea in my head it kind of got stuck there so I started investigating if it was even possible. I didn’t want to deprive you of a real wedding since so much of our relationship has been under that fucking stupid shroud of secrecy, but I want to marry you. Right away. So I made some calls.” He shrugged, and I took the gesture to mean he’d done what he felt had to be done.

I let the situation settle in my mind, looked at it from every vantage point. We’d effectively gone public less than two weeks ago and for basically the better part of this week he’d been capitalizing on that by planning our wedding.

“Out of curiosity, when were you thinking of telling me all this?”

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Remember that time I proposed to you quite suddenly but it turned out I already had my grandmother’s ring?”

I did remember and the memory of him walking in to my house with that ring never failed to take my breath away. While the proposal had been spontaneous and romantic and wonderful, what he wanted to do now was something entirely different. Wasn’t it? “Don’t try to distract me.”

“I know what I want and it’s you. All this other stuff is just the icing on the cake. If I had to give it all up tomorrow, that’d be okay because I’d still have you.”

“I know. And it’s not that I don’t fully appreciate just how much you love me. It’s just a bit much to take in all at once. You have a habit of blindsiding me. I need some time to catch up with the things you’ve already figured out.”

“I know,” he replied on a resigned sigh. “I’d planned to broach the subject once we got to Vancouver and I had a better idea of what our schedules were going to be like and whether or not I could actually pull it off. We already know Broderick plans to shut down from Christmas to the third of January since Shanna put her foot down on that one.”

“Oh yeah she did.” Three years ago Broderick had disappeared from Christmas dinner with her family to go through edits with the sound mixer on his last movie. “I was working for her back then and once
Breaking Point
premiered she told him she’d reached
her
breaking point and if he ever skipped out on Christmas dinner again he’d be speaking with her lawyer.”

“I think he’s slightly afraid of her.”

“He should be. She’s a force of nature,” I said fondly. “So, who else knows?” I asked, switching our conversation back to the more important topic. He’d already worked out so many details without me having any clue what he’d been up to that I wondered just how many people he’d pulled in to the scheme.

He laughed again, and I knew I was in for a few more shocks. “Everyone here, of course. I had to ask Alex if we could rent the house for longer and then I had to find out if there was anything special we needed to do to get married in Canada. Stewart assured me all we need is a marriage license, which can be purchased at the district office. It takes like twenty minutes and it stays good for three months. And then when I was surfing with Hal the morning you met Drea for breakfast, I asked him about supplying the beer and then Drea texted me later that afternoon to tell me if I managed to pull this off, she’d take care of catering. At this point, practically all we need to do is show up.”

I let it all sink in. He’d basically planned our entire wedding and I’d had no clue whatsoever. The thought crossed my mind that I should be mad at him, and yet I couldn’t muster any anger.

“I want to marry you; you want to marry me. There’s nothing stopping us.”

When he put it like that, how could I argue.? “I know, but … doesn’t it seem a bit sudden?”

“Are you kidding me? Considering how quickly I knew I wanted to marry you, you should be thanking me for not whisking you off to city hall the second you said yes. I love you Sarah and I want to start our life together. Is that so wrong?”

While seemingly rash, he’d thought this mad caper through from every angle. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that for the rest of my life I should expect wonderful, spontaneous, out of this world surprises from him. Cameron wasn’t a foolish man, prone to flights of fancy or irresponsible actions. Sure, he could be impulsive, but he knew his own mind. He was a man who committed to everything he did, and that included making me his bride.

When our time in Eagle Harbour came to an end, we still hadn’t come to a consensus about what I was going to tell Shanna about her job offer. Cameron wanted me to turn it down but I hadn’t made up my mind quite yet – not only how I felt about the work itself, but also my unresolved feelings about Cameron’s request not to work anymore at all. He wouldn’t force me to decline, and while I had no doubt he’d support me if I said yes, he’d made his position clear and wasn’t likely to budge.

As we’d packed up our things, I’d texted Shanna and asked for more time to think it through. I’d also casually added that we’d locked down the date and location for our wedding and told her that she and Broderick were invited. She’d graciously said I could take all the time I needed on the job front and politely declined the wedding invitation, citing a family ski trip they couldn’t cancel. I’d known about the trip so I’d known she’d decline the invite, but I had wanted Broderick to know that Cameron and I had reached a place where we could consider the last few months stoically and not hold a grudge. While I probably wouldn’t ever look at Broderick the same way I had before, I had at least forgiven him.

As the twin engine Piper Navajo Chieftain made its descent toward the south terminal at Vancouver International Airport, Cameron reached across the aisle to hold my hand. “Did I tell you yet today that I love you?” he mouthed over the roar of the engines.

“About ten times now,” I mouthed back.

He nodded. “Good, only 90 more to go.”

When the wheels hit the runway, the brakes engaged and soon we were taxiing toward the terminal, our idyllic vacation in Eagle Harbour living on in our memories. Gone, but certainly not forgotten. But soon we’d return to the place that had become so special to us to make new memories.

For now I had other things to think about and not a lot of time to do so because we were getting married in three weeks and I didn’t have a dress to wear.

With Cameron expected on set the following day and there no professional reason for me to stay in Vancouver, last night we’d discussed how to manage the next couple of weeks. While I didn’t love the idea, we’d decided it made the best sense for me to fly back down to L.A. for a marathon shopping session and then drive back up the coast with Duke just before Christmas. 

Much to my surprise, my mother had insisted on flying in for a couple of days to join Carly and me in the dress hunt. I wasn’t sure what made her happier – the fact that her aging daughter was finally getting married or that she was gaining a celebrity as a son-in-law – but as long as she didn’t harass me about my weight or try to force me into buying a dress I hated, I begrudgingly welcomed her presence.

I’d been firm in laying down some ground rules for her visit beforehand though. While she might
try
to adhere to them, there was only so much good behavior one could expect from a woman like Jane Travers so I braced myself for some truly cringe-worthy moments over the coming days. I also worried more than a little bit that she would call the paparazzi to tell them where Cameron Scott’s super secret fiancé was going dress shopping. If I stepped out of the dressing room to a bevy of flash bulbs there would be zero doubt exactly who was to blame.

But just in case she got out of hand, I’d bribed Carly in to running interference by making her my maid of honor. When I’d called to ask, she’d squealed and told me how romantic my relationship with Cameron was in spite of, what she called, “that stupid thing with Jillian.” And then, once I’d filled her in on Cameron’s scheming to get me down the aisle as soon as possible, she’d sighed longingly and told me how she hoped to someday find someone who loved her as much as Cameron loved me.

“He’s always looked at you with stars in his eyes, you know?” she’d asked and I wondered – not for the first time and probably not for the last either – how I’d never seen it.

During our conversation, Carly had also confessed that when Mike told her what Cameron was planning, he’d asked if she wanted to fly up with him. Cameron and I had thought for awhile now that something was brewing between those two, but both kept their cards close to their chest where the other was concerned. Now, however, when I asked if she was interested in Mike, she’d hemmed and hawed but in the end had admitted he had a certain boyish charm that she found compelling. I didn’t know that I agreed with her assessment, but if she was interested in hooking up with him, I’d be happy to help it along any way I could. When I asked if she thought their trip up to Eagle Harbour could be the beginning of something, I could practically hear the blush creeping up her neck when she responded that we’d just have to wait and see what happened.

When I relayed all of this to Cameron later that night – making him promise on penalty of death not to tell Mike what Carly had shared with me in confidence – he’d hooted with laughter and told me Mike had specifically asked after her and had ditched his New Year’s Eve date in favor of going stag to our wedding.

Well then.

***

By the end of my first day of dress shopping I knew two things: (1) high-end bridal gown designers hated plus size women, and (2) I didn’t know if I’d survive my mom’s visit.

At each of the three stores we’d visited so far, she’d taken the bridal consultant aside and asked them to bring me a couple of big, puffy tulle ball gowns to try on in addition to whatever ones I requested. The exact type of dress I’d told each and every one of them I had no intention of putting on, much less purchasing. I’d also discovered, much to my chagrin, that most dresses above a sample size twelve were of the strapless, bedazzled variety, weighed down by the acres and acres of tulle that my mother preferred for my wedding gown. One of them, I was pretty sure, was an exact replica of Cinderella’s ball gown.

“But Sarah, you’ll look like a princess!” she’d whined when, for the fourth time, I’d shaken my head and told the sales associate, resolutely, to take the offending frock out of my sight.

“Which would be fine, mother, if I was a 25-year-old virgin.” My patience with her scheming and undermining me had reached the end of its rope. “Look,” I’d said, zipping my brown leather riding boots over a pair skinny jeans that had been much tighter a couple of months ago, “if you can’t respect my wishes I’m going to have to ask you to go home.” I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for her answer.

“Fine, be that way,” she’d huffed, stalking out of the dressing room ahead of me, the heel of her spiky black Manolo Blahniks clacking with each punctuated step she took.

I’d looked at Carly and rolled my eyes. “You’d think I was being difficult or something, not wanting to look like a giant, white skein of cotton candy on my wedding day.”

Carly shrugged and, like the perfect shopping wingwoman I knew she’d be, told me the only person I had to please was myself. When I’d hugged her goodbye a few hours later, weary to the bone over the day’s misadventures, I’d clung to her like a lifeline amidst the storm known as my mother.

Two days later we were back at it again but this time my mom – making sure I knew just how dejected she felt through loud huffs and dramatic sighs – thankfully otherwise kept her opinions to herself. As much as she was able to, that is. She didn’t try bribing any consultants to bring me any princess style dress but she did roll her eyes whenever I walked out of a dressing room in a lace or chiffon dress that wasn’t bedazzled to within an inch of its life. It wasn’t that I particularly loved any of the dresses I’d tried on so far, but I had at least hoped I wouldn’t have to endure her passive aggressive hostility when I showed them off.

Finally, an hour before they closed for the night, we arrived at a boutique I’d been told actually carried elegant, simple gowns for those of us who had some meat on their bones. By then, however, I wasn’t feeling all that bridal. I was sweaty and somewhat gross from getting in and out of dresses that weighed as much as Duke while locked in overheated dressing rooms, shop owners having turned up their heaters to max temps in order to combat what Angelenos thought was a frigid sixty-two degrees. I was disheartened, disinterested, and ready to give up when Carly returned with a sales associate carrying yet another dress for me to try on.

“I know this is a long shot,” Carly said as the petite blonde unzipped the white garment bag and pulled the dress out. “But I think it could look amazing on you. It’s not like any of the others and while it’s a bit fussier than you said you wanted, there’s just something about it.”

I was about to protest, tell her I didn’t want anything too busy and explain, once again, that I knew
exactly
what type of dress I wanted and this lace frock wasn’t it when I stopped short. As she held it aloft for my inspection I admitted that on at least one front she was right – it
wasn’t
like any of the other dresses I’d gotten in to and out of the past couple of days. Whereas they’d been all wrong, this one – a Battenberg lace sheath with a square neckline topped with beaded soutache sleeves that dripped with dangling, delicate pearls, lending the gown a uniquely vintage feel – had potential. The back had a keyhole opening, adding a touch of drama that made the dress both prim and sexy at the same time. The short, sweep train was the absolute right length for an informal wedding and, best of all, I wouldn’t need to worry about a stupid bustle.

In a word, it was stunning.

I grabbed it greedily out of the associate’s hands and practically dove into the private dressing room where I threw it on haphazardly. Despite it not being zipped and buttoned properly I knew immediately. This dress was the one. Looking at my reflection, I saw myself as I’d be when I said my vows. When I became Cameron’s wife.

I quietly stepped out of the little room and into the larger octagon that contained a platform in the dead center where brides could show off their gowns. I glanced at Carly and her face split into a giant, ear-to-ear grin. My mother hadn’t even glanced up. Instead, she continued looking down at her fingernails as a file swung back and forth across her already perfect manicure.

“Jane,” Carly intoned, not wanting to break the spell. “I think you’re going to want to see this one.”

My mother didn’t raise her eyes from her hands. “Why? It’s just going to be another basic white gown with no shape or sparkle. Why she insists on those plain dresses is beyond me.” Her dismissive language and derisive tone made something inside of me snap.

“Mother, if you can’t at least be civil to me, you need to leave. Now.” I didn’t bother to disguise my anger. There was being nice to your mother because she had given birth to you and was the only one you’d ever have and then there was indulging her drama as she did her level best to tear you down, but right then I was done with both.

“Now Sarah,” she chided, finally looking up from her nails to take in the sight of me standing in front of her in the dress I’d already fallen in love with.

“Oh my!” she stammered, bringing her hand up to cover a gasp of surprise. “Oh,” she breathed out before going completely silent, her hand dropping back down to her side. And then her eyes filled with glassy tears and she walked over to me and enveloped me in a light hug, careful not to crush the dress, before she stepped away.

“It’s … you’re …” She stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. “You’re beautiful Sarah. Cameron is a lucky man.”

“I know mom, but thank you for saying so.” I hugged her back.