Playing For Love (10 page)

There was a knock on the door and I hesitated to answer. David had agreed to get ready in a different bedroom at the opposite end of the house while I took over the master. I wasn't traditional or superstitious. I just needed time alone.

“It's me,” I heard my mother say. “Your dress just arrived and hair and makeup is here.”

Shit
.

I looked at the clock, it was only six thirty.

They were early. I wasn't ready for them.

“Just a second,” I yelled as I ran across the room, in front of the large, fully opened patio doors, and into the bathroom to grab my robe. The view and smell of the ocean had completely taken over the room, helping me stay calm.

I slid the plush robe on and ran back to unlock the door—I didn't trust David to honor our agreement to not see each other until it was time to get married.

My mother’s knowing eyes looked me over as I let her in.

“Are you done with your ritual?” she deadpanned as she walked past me, not waiting for a response to her always rhetorical question. “Do you have chairs in here we can use?”

They quickly set up in front of the patio doors and started working on both of us simultaneously.

Two hours later, I was ready; they knew what they were doing. I got my cascade of loose curls half pulled back, and natural makeup that gave me a flawless look.       

“You ready?” my mom asked as I looked over myself one last time in the mirror. I never imagined I would look like this—a fairy tale princess.

It took all three of them to help me get my dress on and buttoned up. The muted colors gave my skin a warm glow. The crystals, hidden as they were, only caught light every so often, posing no competition with my ring. The French bustle in the back was perfect and dramatic, layers of silk cascading down. I felt like I should be running through a garden maze or a lush, green meadow or down the stairs of a castle. Definitely a fairy tale dress. And more beautiful than I had imagined.  

“Yeah, let me grab my shoes,” I said, turning to the bed where they sat.

I took the ornate wedge sandals out of their shoebox. They were really just fancy flip-flops covered in crystals—and as comfy as house shoes.

“Well, you won't be able to see them,” my mother muttered with disapproval. She was wearing a fitted slate gray dress, falling just below her knees. It was a classic style, and looked stunning on her.

“No one is
here
to see them.” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“Whatever.” Her voice gave away her disappointment in my lack of concern of her approval. Her mood shifted abruptly—in her signature way. “Are you ready to do this? Your first real adventure,” she said in a singsong voice.

I knew what she meant—I bailed on my previous engagements. And while she had never been married, she thought my avoidance of commitment was from fear of being hurt, which I would probably find true, if I ever allowed myself to think about it. 

“Yeah. I am actually.” I laughed, slipping into my sandals. I tested them out with a few bouncy steps as I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her. “Thank you for keeping my head straight.” 

“Always, baby.” She didn't squeeze me the way she normally did—no doubt not wanting to mess up the dress. She pulled back, looking at me. “Now let's give you away. It's about time I had someone to help me with your special brand of crazy,” she teased.

“Let's go,” I muttered, rolling my eyes playfully.

“A bakery truck showed up. They were setting something up, something that required electricity. You know what it is?” Her voice was too excited. But that was just her. Excitable. 

“No. We didn't discuss catering or cakes or anything,” I said as we exited the bedroom.

“He surprises you a lot, doesn't he?” It wasn't a question.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don't seem surprised or even that curious. Normally, you get mad when anyone makes decisions for you.”

“Maybe I'm growing as a person.
Maturing
.”

She laughed. “I don't think so... I think you're in love.”

“Shut up,” I muttered playfully.

“I'm proud of you for taking the chance. I knew you could do it. You just needed a wrecking ball like David.”

“Yeah, yeah. No mushy. My makeup is perfect. No mussing me up.”

We made our way downstairs, my dress taking up the entire width of the staircase. Once we reached the first floor, we automatically hooked arms—like so many times before. Someone had removed the coffee table, allowing us to easily cross the space without incident. I took a deep breath. Looking out across the yard, I could see the light from the archway/altar. I was stunned by the romantic glow it created, I knew it would be beautiful, but this...  

My mother patted my hand, spurring me into gear. We took the first step onto the deck in unison. Warm light wrapped around me, comforting me. All different sizes of pillar candles lined the patio, giving it an intimate, magical glow.

I thought I would be nervous or scared, but I wasn't. I was anxious. Anxious to get to him. I was almost giddy. Then orchestra music started; it seemed to be coming from all around me. We hadn't discussed it, but it was perfect, adding a rich ambiance that pulled the entire fantasy wedding together. Giving it the perfect blend of elegance and fairy.

“What are you doing?” my mother asked.

“Walking.”

“You
know
how you're supposed to walk,” she scolded.   

“And I'm not doing that fucking wedding march.”

She huffed out an annoyed breath. “Fine. At least walk slow. And don't say fuck at your wedding.”

“Fuckity, fuck, fuck. Fuuuuuck.” Then I couldn't stop giggling.

“I'm glad you're his problem now.” She tried for serious, but I could hear the amusement in her voice. 

“I'm a fucking angel compared to him,” I lied as we neared the huge archway, which consisted of four posts with a canopy of white roses. Roses and vines wound down the posts with fairy lights weaved through, creating a beautiful glow. Our little magical bubble.

As we got closer, my eyes settled on David, waiting inside that fairy tale bubble. He was wearing the John Varvatos three-piece, dark gray suit and matching tie that I'd chosen, with a white button-up shirt. And the new black boots I insisted on—it was his signature item. It wouldn't be him without the black boots. And he looked stunning with the way he filled out that suit, from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips. Although, he was much sexier in his frayed jeans and V-neck tee as far as I was concerned.  

We stepped under the canopy of roses and lights. I was captivated by the look of love and pure elation on his too-handsome face. He looked genuinely happy and grateful.

“You're fucking perfect,” he rumbled. His voice was somewhere between a sexy growl and awe as his gaze turned heated.

The judge cleared his throat, interrupting our moment. He started the ceremony, asking, “Who gives this woman away?”

I looked at my mom. We hadn't discussed the specifics. I was expecting the basics, like going to a courthouse.

“I do,” my mother said calmly. Not at all put off by the oddity.

David tugged my hand, encouraging me to face him. When I did, he took both my hands in his.

I stared into David's dark eyes as the judge spoke, not really paying attention to what was being said as I drowned in those deep, warm pools of chocolate. Then David's sculpted lips started moving.   

“I promise to take care of you.” His voice was confident and sincere. “To support you and your dreams. To make your dreams mine. I promise to be loyal to you. In every way. I promise to be honest, kind and patient. Even when you're not.” His voice lowered intimately. “I promise to spend the rest of my life making you happy, and making you fall in love with me a little more each day.” 

My eyes stung and my throat tightened. I was moved by his heartfelt declarations, and stunned by the fact we hadn't discussed vows. I hesitated, unsure what I should say.

“You don't have to say anything,” he reassured me gently. “Those are my vows to you.”

“No, I want to.” My eyes darted away as I searched for the right words. Then his hands squeezed mine, drawing my eyes to his again—eyes so full of love, confidence, and irrational obsession.

My words flowed. “You make me feel more loved than I thought possible. You give me something I didn't even know I needed, just by being you.” My eyes rimmed with emotion, the same emotion I saw reflected back at me. In that moment, I realized no one would
ever
love me as much as he did. I swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath. “I promise to be yours. To always stay by your side. I promise to put my faith in you. Give you my trust and love. And I promise to try. Everyday.”

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. The only thing I remember was David's hands shaking slightly as he slipped the diamond eternity band on my finger—same as they did with the engagement ring. David's lips captured mine in a sexy, sweet kiss when the judge pronounced us man and wife. My mom was excited, maybe more than I was. She insisted on a few pics and a first dance. David ate it up, while I struggled to endure it. He loved her desire for capturing our affection. Finally, I had Byron take a couple of photos of all three of us.

We took our time walking back to the house, enjoying the view.

The patio was astonishing, awash in the romantic warm glow. It looked like a dream. I knew David had been very busy sitting in that dressing room.

How'd they do it so fast?

An oversized table was covered in a white silk table cloth, gathered together at the base with a sash. An enormous chandelier was hanging from a beam directly above the centerpiece—a large elaborate arrangement of white flowers in a short-stemmed, crystal bowl surrounded by candles. Four trees were covered in white blooms with hanging tea lights. It was grand and elegant. It was too much. The slate patio made it all the more dramatic in contrast, giving it an ethereal glow.

“Would you like to eat first Mr. and Mrs. Taylor?” Byron asked with a bit of a flourish.

“Yes, please,” I answered as Mrs. Taylor for the first time.    

David led me to the table, pulling out my chair. Thoughtfully, he helped me arrange my skirt as I sat.  I watched as he stood tall, unbuttoning his jacket, taking it off and draping it over the chair next to him. My body warmed, riveted as he removed his cufflinks and rolled up the sleeves to mid-forearm, revealing those brutal veins over hard muscle.

It was a crime to cover that body with clothes.

He pulled his chair close and sat down. Grabbing my hand, he reached into his pocket with the other. Then he eased my engagement ring into its new place—on top of my wedding band. It felt good.

Everything did.

I was euphoric.

I was open.

I was in love.

And David could destroy me.  

I refused to think about it, to acknowledge that fact lingering in the back of my mind.

Byron pulled out the chair on the other side of me and my mom sat down. Reaching over, she gave my hand a squeeze, smiling, too pleased with herself.

I didn't know why.    

Before I could ask, two men in black suits rolled out a long cart covered with white linens and a four-tier cake.

Looking at David, I asked, “What did you do?”

With a sexy smirk, David helped me stand, and we went over to inspect my surprise. Up close, I could see it was an ornate display, covered with mini-cupcakes. It had to be several hundred. We would never eat them all, but they were beautiful. The top tier was ivory roses packed so perfectly together, it was seamless. The second was pale green ruffles with silver sugar pearls. The third was pale pink roses, and the bottom was an ivory lace fondant. They matched my dress perfectly.   

“This is gorgeous,” I breathed, reaching out, unable to stop myself. “It's cold.”

“I didn't think you wanted a traditional wedding cake.” David's hands gripped my waist as he leaned in, whispering behind my ear. “Your mom told me your favorite ice cream.”

“She told you my favorite ice cream but didn't bother to tell you I don't like icing?”

“The top three are Cool Whip icing,” he corrected. “It's my understanding that you
do
like that.”

God, he's perfect.

I couldn't hide the pleased grin on my face as we sat back down.

Throughout dinner and much conversation, David kept his hand on my back, his fingers trailing casually and possessively just above the bodice. My mother noticed and smirked, seeming to enjoy his claiming gesture. Since taking the vows he seemed so content, so at peace, I wasn't even sure if he was aware he was doing it.   

David and my mother got along easily. His eagerness to get to know her showed. It was touching and unsettling—reminding me my days of privacy were gone. My mother excused herself once we were ready to start in on the ice cream cupcakes.     

“You two need to spend time alone. I'll have one tomorrow.”