Permanent Bliss (6 page)

There’s an awkward silence over the phone filled with guilt and foreboding. “Uh, yeah. You sure you want me to do that?”

“If you want Nikki at the wedding as your plus one, you have to tell Mac. I’m not causing a shit storm a week before my wedding with my future wife who is well overdue for a freakout.”

“But they’re so entertaining,” he comments offhandedly.

“Taylor,” I growl. “You need to call her and make sure she’s okay with it. ’Cause if you don’t, and she gets pissed off when you turn up to the wedding with
my
ex-girlfriend, you’ll be answering to me. Nothing, and I mean
nothing
will ruin what should be the best day of Mac’s life. She deserves this. She’s earned this. If she’s not happy, I’m not happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, man. I’ll call her once I get off shift. A few hours tops.”

“You better. You remember you’ve gotta go pick up our suits this week, right?”

“Yep. All organized. Rings, Suit, beer. We’ll be sweet for Saturday. You nervous? Cold feet?”

“Nope. They’re tropical. But fix this with Mac if you want there to
be
a wedding.”

“Fuck, man. You’re starting to sound like a chick.”

“Whatever. See you Friday at the dinner, if you’re still alive that is.” I end the call, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

If anything, at least my day is about to get interesting.

Mac

Two glasses of wine, and half an hour standing like a plastic mannequin being poked and prodded by the dressmaker as I have my final dress fitting, and you’d think I’d be agitated. But I’m not. I’m on cloud fucking nine.

With the moms and Kate, we’ve had the trial run for our hair, a boozy lunch, and now our final dress fittings for the ‘wedding of the year’ as my mother-in-law is calling it. I’m relaxed, happy to be sharing this experience with the three important women in my life, and wishing the next week to fly by.

Everything is arranged: the church, the reception, the rehearsal dinner, the flowers, the cake, the ceremony, the suits, the kids, and finally, my dress.

“Where’s my bra?” Kate shrieks from the dressing room at the back of the shop.

“You can’t wear a bra with your dress. When we changed the straps you had a VBL, so we decided you had to go without.”

“Where was I when this happened?”

“Probably drunk,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that!”

“I know. I wanted you too!” I retort with a smirk.

“What’s a VBL?” Daniel’s mother Jenny asks, her face perplexed. “I’ve heard of a lot of things,
especially
with Makenna as a daughter in law, but never VBL.”

My mom, bless her cotton socks, leans over the couch and places her hand on Jenny’s forearm. “Visible breast line.”

“Bra line, mom. Bra line. No one says breasts anymore. Boobs, jugs, tits, knockers, sweater puppies, hooters, the twins, traffic lights, bazoongas. Boobs, mom.” A lifetime of freakouts has made me an expert of holding my breath and speaking quickly.

The moms start hooting with laughter, and Kate and I join them. I realize how ridiculous my rant sounded. Anyone would think we were a bunch of giggling teenage girls laughing about boys.

“Turn around, Makenna,” instructs the dressmaker. I spin around and freeze in place as I see the whole package in the floor to ceiling mirror.

The whole damn package.

Dress, hair, everything. Holy fuck, I’m getting married.

My eyes go wide as I catch Kate’s face behind me. Her eyes glisten with tears as she covers her mouth with her hand and just stares at me. It’s a look of shock and awe. Worried that something is wrong with me, I look at the moms who are both dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs that I didn’t know middle-aged women even carried around anymore.

“What?” I ask, anxious as hell, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight in front of me.

“Breathtaking,” Jenny whispers hoarsely, her voice tight with emotion.

“Exquisite,” my mom spits out through her tears.

I lock eyes with Kate, not needing words to tell her how I’m feeling and what I need in that moment. “Hon, you are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

I can’t hold back a grin as I slowly run my hands over the satin-smooth, built in corset of my dress, down to my hips. I gently move my hips side to side, watching the gentle sway of the material in amazement. If ever I was to have a dream wedding dress, a childhood fantasy of what I would look like as one of those saccharine-sweet Barbie brides we all thought we’d become, this wouldn’t be it.

It’s one hundred times better.

The dress has short, capped organza sleeves, designed to un-sluttify the built in satin-boned corset that frames my torso (and my sweater puppies) with a silk ribboned lace-up back which leads into a floor-length sweeping satin skirt that kisses the floor and unfortunately hides the
to die for
silver glitter lattice sandals. Their six inch heel lifts me up to match Daniel’s six foot two inch heights.

“No freakout,” I whisper as I look at Kate once more. My best friend who has always been there for me. Through thick and thin, through my slutdom and my realization that the man I’m about to marry was the one.

“No more freakouts, babe. You’re stunning and you’re getting married!” she declares on a shriek which sparks the moms to life.

As I stand there, frozen in place in front of the mirror with my best friend and my moms mulling around me, I know that this was where I was meant to end up.

And my superhero and gorgeous mini mes waiting at home for me are my rewards.

Chapter 6: “Be Okay”

Mac
      

“This is some pre-wedding joke right?” I let out a laugh, shocked at Noah’s request.

“Uh … what do you mean?”

“You’re not really trying to get me to agree to my ex
-
fuck buddy bringing my future husband’s bitch of an ex-girlfriend to my dinner, right?” I shake my head as I start pacing my kitchen.

“I’d really appreciate it, Mac.” Noah’s voice sounds tight, not at all like his normal, confident self.

“Really? Of all the women in Chicago you could wanna bring, why Nikki?” I’ve had a few wines tonight, so I’m beyond censorship (or caring) at this point. I lean back with my butt against the counter as I reach out with my spare hand and top up my glass with wine.

“It’s always been her, Mac. There’s just something there, I know it. I needed to try. She said she’d like to attend the wedding as my partner, and there was this look in her eye that just—”

“What the fuck, Noah? Where is the walking dildo who would never get sucked in by a blond-haired nasty succubus? You know she’s tried every which way to wrangle an invite to our wedding. Maybe she thinks it’ll be her last chance at some lame attempt to save Daniel from my clutches. Fuck knows. Fuck cares at this point. Seriously, Noah, bring her. I’m marrying Superman come hell or high water and no ex-girlfriend with a grudge will be able to stop that.”

“Are you sure?” I can’t help but feel something resembling sympathy when I hear the hopeful lilt in his voice. Noah is many things, reformed man-whore and walking dildo notwithstanding, but he has always been a great guy and an awesome friend. He was there when I found out I was pregnant, and yes, he may have also made the dick-move of inadvertently
telling
Daniel that I was knocked up, but he’s a good guy. And if this is something he truly wants, then surely it can’t hurt to let bygones be bygones and let the she-bitch from hell come to my wedding.

Hell, at least she can get jealous at how drop dead gorgeous I’m gonna look in my kick-ass wedding dress, and I can’t say I won’t get some sick enjoyment out of knowing that she’ll be watching Daniel vow to spend the rest of his life with me.

Hey, I’m still a girl. We all have our quirks. Me, I want my husband-to-be’s ex-girlfriend to see that he’s mine and only mine, once and for all. She may have Daniel and Noah fooled, but I know what women like her are like.

“Yep. You have my permission to invite Nikki to the wedding.”

“You’re awesome, Mac. You know that?”

“I may have been told that in my time.” He chuckles down the phone and I can’t help but grin back as I see Daniel walk into the room and stop a safe distance away from me, his body language giving away his wariness.

“Okay, babe, I’m gonna go and tell Daniel the fantastic news,” I reply, my voice saccharine sweet while I refuse to unlock my gaze from my superhero.

“See you Friday, Mac.”

I cooly place my phone on the kitchen counter, then stand there and study Daniel because, right now, the ‘oh fuck’ look on his face makes me wonder if he already knew about Noah’s request. And if so, I wonder how
long
he’s known about it.

I’m flabbergasted. For all his superhero abilities (and believe me, Daniel has a LOT of them) you’d be shocked to know that he has his flaws too. Don’t get me wrong, they are few and far between, and often show themselves at the most inopportune times. Like randomly forgetting to put the toilet seat down in the master bathroom and my bleary-eyed ass threatening to hit water after a rather arduous middle of the night feeding—that was a fun one! And now it seems he’s just revealed one more. The inability to say no to his best friend when he wants to invite the she-devil herself to our wedding.

Actually, she-devil is being nice to the female spawn of Satan. No, Nasty Nikki is a devious slapper who is so deep in denial that she has a shit show in hell of ever being with my Daniel again that she still, more than two years after meeting me, hasn’t accepted the fact that I am the one marrying Daniel.

I live with him, I wear his over the top but totally gorgeous ring on my finger, and I am the mother to his two mini-superheroes in training. Forgive me for being possessive, but dammit, he’s mine. I could handle the frequent text messages and random, sometimes inopportune phone calls just to say hi, especially since Daniel has always made it clear, in his words and actions, that I am the only woman for him, till death do us part, forever and ever, Amen.

You get the picture.

But there is something about that woman that has irked me from day one. The snide looks, that infuriating and heartbreaking hand touch in the café when I was being stupid and trying to fool myself into thinking that I couldn’t be with Daniel, and now this.

I go to open my mouth, but he beats me to it. “Gorgeous, you have nothing to worry about.”

Lesson number one to all males out there. Never, ever tell a bride who is straddling the line between insanity and being mildly unamused that she has ‘nothing to worry about.’ It’s like taking away all the chocolate and Midol when she’s got her period.

In short, don’t do it unless you have a death wish.

I slowly place my spare hand on my hip, moving into
that
stance. You know, the one that says you mean business and that most smart men know means that they’ve fucked up, and bad. Lifting my glass to my mouth, I take a slow, measured sip as I will myself down from level ten to level five or at least something close. Not once do I take my eyes off Daniel, who is literally leaning his ass up against the back of the couch, visibly squirming under my damning gaze.

I put the glass back down and take a deep breath. When I’m confident that the imminent threat of a Mac nuclear meltdown has passed, I plaster a sickly sweet smile on my face to lull him into a false sense of security before moving toward him.

He’s standing straight, waiting for the expected onslaught by the time I cross the room. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I move forward until my body is flush with his. He visibly relaxes, his previously squared defensive shoulders loosening underneath my touch. Our eyes never leave each other and as I gaze up into his beautiful, yet clearly mistaken orbs, my smile beams even brighter. 

“It’s okay, Danny Boy,” I murmur as I glide my fingers into his hair at the back of his head, further deepening the illusion that everything is perfectly fine. Because let’s be honest, it’s a woman’s prerogative to twist a situation around to suit herself, especially if it means we get to keep the men folk on their toes. This is something Kate and I have learned very well over the past few years. “But since Nikki is now coming to the wedding, our guest list is a bit uneven. Lucky for us, I have a perfect solution for that …”

“Mmm?” His hands glide up and down either side of my body, running from my upper back all the way down to my ass as I feel him harden against my front. Daniel’s hair is his kryptonite, whisper soft or early baldness-inducing hard, my hands and fingers running through his hair get him going every single time. “What’s that?” His voice trails off and I can tell he’s totally distracted by my unapologetic and shameless use of my charms. Seriously, girls, you’ve gotta use what your mama gave you and now I know I’ve got him right where I want him.

I lean forward and gently brush my lips against his, slowly deepening the kiss as he opens his mouth and his delicious (and very talented) tongue joins the party. Soon it’s turned ravenous as his hands start wandering, and I know I’ve got him. I pull back and look at him before giving him one last peck then loosening my grip and stepping back, shrugging my shoulders.