When Girlfriends Chase Dreams (48 page)

“If that’s what you want to do, Em, knock yourself out. And the canvas, by the way, looks
awesome
.”

She snaps another photo right as Allison comes over, letting us know that if we want the first dance can commence in five minutes.

Conner stands up and holds his hand out to me, Emily snapping wildly.

“Come on, let’s get our dance on,” he says in a quirky voice. He does a mock Elvis rotating pelvis thing, and Emily, oh, for shame, is enjoying photographing this epic embarrassment.

“The bride and groom!” Robin sings, sidling up to me. Bobby’s right behind her, and he’s carrying Rose, who is wearing the prettiest little pink ballerina tutu, and the matching onesie that I sewed a small vintage songbird onto. “Congratulations, you two!” Robin gives me a hug and a light kiss on the cheek, checking afterward to make sure she didn’t leave behind any lip gloss on my face.

“Congratulations,” Bobby says, exchanging firm handshakes with Conner and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Ba-ba-booo!” Rose screeches, clapping her hands together.

“Rosie!” I squeal, tickling her tummy. She screeches louder and starts to wiggle, until Bobby lets her down so she can half-walk and half-crawl around the lush, green lawn.

“A married couple now!” Robin says. “My, my, my. And you were worried Conner wouldn’t ask.”

“Eventually,” Conner says, rocking on his heels and drawing out a small laugh from each of us. “Eventually I would get around to it, isn’t that what I always said, Claire?”

“So,” I say, not so surreptitiously eyeing Bobby and Robin. “When’s the next wedding, huh?”

“Whoa,” Bobby says, looking off to the side. “There goes Rose. Better go catch her.”

“I’ll help,” Conner says, dashing off awkwardly with Bobby to chase after the little girl who has gotten
really
fast at making an exit.

Robin rolls her eyes. “What can I say? That’s men for you.”

“Well,” I link my arm in hers and amble in the direction of the dance floor, “you have a pretty amazing man, husband or not, if I may say.”

Robin pauses and looks back at the guys, Rose now giggling and squealing as Bobby tosses her up in the air and catches her.

“Bobby
is
amazing.” A small grin tugs at the corners of her mouth as she watches the two play. “And he’s going to make an amazing father.”

I’m about to agree when I twist my face, confused. “Wha—oh, you mean Conner?” Conner is now holding Rose, showing her his boutonniere. “Yeah, I’m sure he will. But not for some time.”
 

Robin is suddenly silent, and now she’s flushing. She scratches at her forehead and looks down at the grass.

“Robin?” I ask curiously. I can tell something’s on her mind. There’s something she’s not sharing. I’ve known her for years—she doesn’t just suddenly blush, and she doesn’t halt conversation out of nowhere, for no reason.

“Robin?” I repeat.

She looks up at me, then over to Bobby. “Oh, erm…” Her eyes fleetingly meet mine again, then in a discomfiting way she takes a swig of the clear, bubbling beverage in her champagne flute.

“No, uh…yeah, Conner. Yeah, Conner will make a
great
dad someday.” Still blushing, Robin takes another awkward swig.

We look at each other for a few silent seconds, my eyebrows slowly rising, and then Robin finally breaks out and says, “All right, all right.” A smile begins to spread across my lips, and the pink color of Robin’s flushing cheeks turns to crimson. Robin has a secret!

She presses her lips together tightly, looking like she’s about to pop with a juicy bit of gossip. Then she bursts out and says, “Bobby
is
a great dad to Rose. He’s already kinda, sorta her dad, you know?”
 

I nod ebulliently.
 

“And that’s why I know—” she inhales sharply. “That’s why I know he’ll be a great father to our baby.” She rests her hands on her stomach, and is beaming.

Omigod! I want to scream. I want to jump up and down. This is… Omigod! This is frickin’ exciting news! And totally unexpected!

My mouth is open, and I’m poised to shriek in joy and scream congratulations, but Robin briskly cups her hands over mine and says in a quiet and subdued tone, “Shhh. We haven’t told anyone yet.” She bashfully looks from left to right. “I didn’t exactly want to come out with the news during your big, special day.”

“Robin!” I say in a high-pitched but whispered voice.
 

“Shhh,” she mutters out. “I know, I know. I wanted to make a big reveal to the girls and all, so can we keep it a secret for now?”

“Omigod!” I purr, dancing on my tiptoes. “This is
huge
news, girlfriend!”

She smiles bashfully and returns a hand to her stomach. “Surprise,” she says with a cute shrug. “But promise—cat’s in the bag still for a little bit, kay?”

How can she be so calm about this? This is— This is— This is crazy news! Omigod!

My mouth is hanging open, and I finally close it and snap back to when Allison appears at my side.

“We’re ready for the first dance when you are,” Allison says.

“Uhh, yeah,” I murmur. I can’t get over this news! “Yeah, yeah, definitely. Conner and I will be right there.”

Allison traipses back into the Manor, giving orders over her walkie-talkie, and I wrap Robin in a huge hug. “Congratulations.”

“This is your special day, though,” she says, pulling a meek look. “There’s plenty of time ahead of us to celebrate over the new bundle. You enjoy your wedding, Claire.”

When Conner meets up with me at the edge of the dance floor, and as the DJ announces that the first dance will commence, I am finally able to shake myself from the surprise at Robin’s pregnancy. She’s going to be a mommy. Again! Goodness, how time flies. Robin’s going to have another baby; I’m married; Jackie’s married! Really, wasn’t it only yesterday we were all kids back in college?

“Ready to be impressed by my dance moves, Mrs. Whitley?” Conner takes my hand and leads me to the center of the dance floor as our song, “The Way You Look Tonight,” commences. (It’s as clichéd as you can get, I know, but we had a terrible time deciding, so we made it easy and chose a wedding classic. It was either this, a Celine Dion pick of mine, or a Guns and Roses pick of Conner’s. I think we chose wisely.

I tightly entwine my fingers with his, and he pulls me in close as the opening instrumentals of our song ring all around. As Frank Sinatra’s heart-melting voice coos over the speakers, Conner and I fall in step together. Spin and twirl, sidestep, close to one another…

“I really do feel a glow just thinking of you,” Conner says into my ear as we dance closely.

The DJ then invites the guests to join on the floor, and one of the many swingin’ fifties songs on our request list starts up.

Before I know it, the night is nearly over. The food was amazing, the champagne and hors d'oeuvres beforehand delectable. The decorations and flowers and entire theme all worked so exquisitely together. And, get this, there turned out to be plenty of tables and food and drinks for the hefty guest list. The music has been really great—the dance floor was only empty once when everyone sat down for dinner. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, and, if I might brag, the gift table is overflowing with boxes and bags. Maybe there is something to Dad inviting his entire sales contact book.

Conner and I have just finished cutting into the cake, both of us being really nice to each other at the onset when we fed each other a piece. However, I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. Just when I think I’m getting off nicely, he goes in for the kill shot and spreads a thick dollop of frosting onto the side of my face. Naturally, I do him one better and smash my remaining piece into his nose and mouth.

He suddenly takes me by surprise and pulls me in for a kiss, making the guests cheer and the photographers go wild.

“Mmm,” I say, licking at a finger swipe of cake. “Sophie did a bang-up job. This is
incredible!
” I dart my eyes around the crowd, searching for my best friend, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Congratulations,” Lara says from behind me, once Conner and I have cleaned ourselves up from our little cake disaster. We had to do it relatively quickly, because Allison informed us that there was already a line forming for a piece of cake. A huge reason why people come to these events, right?

I spin around. “Thank you,” I tell Lara, giving her a big hug. “I didn’t get any frosting on you, did I?” I pull back and look at her stunning dress and my own gown, checking for stray pieces of dessert.

“Oh, forget about it,” Lara says with a flick of her hand. “I wanted to tell you that I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Lara,” Conner says.

“And,” Lara lowers her voice, “from my mom and I, our little wedding gift to you.”

“What?” I ask, curious.

“Her planning. Arranging. Coordinating.” Lara gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, that and that bread machine you wanted.” She flutters her lashes. “Congratulations.”

“What?” I gasp. “You—your—your mom can’t do that! For us?”

Lara waves it off. “It’s done. Congratulations. Now, I’m going to get in line for a piece of that cake.” She scampers off, catching up with Nathan, whom I spot standing in line next to Sophie.

“So that honeymoon…” Conner trails. “When exactly can we head out?”

We’re flying to San Diego tonight, then tomorrow, bright and early, we’ll be leaving for a week-long Baja cruise. We want surf, sun, and sand, and something that requires
zero
planning. We just want one traveling hotel room taking us from adventure to adventure.

I’m about to tell Conner that we certainly can’t leave until we do the bouquet and garter tosses, and, really, I don’t want to leave the reception too soon. It’s so exquisite here at Chanfield Manor. I’m so happy everything worked out. It’s such a perfect venue, and all of the little bird and vintage trinkets around tie everything together so well.

“Sophie!” I call out, waving for her to come over.

She squeezes out of line. “So,” she says, “is it to your liking?” She wipes some frosting from the side of my face. “Everything taste all right?”

“Heavenly,” I groan. “I wanted to thank you for helping me with such a fantastic wedding.”

“Oh, please,” she says casually. “It was my pleasure.”

“I sneaked in one of those cake balls earlier,” I say under my breath. “Delish!”

“Oh, phew,” Sophie sighs. “You know, I’m a ditz and forgot to sprinkle the pink batch with the gold glitter.” Her face is pulled a little taut, as if she’s worried I’m going to go Bridezilla on her something.

All right, in her defense maybe if this were happening weeks ago I probably would be panicking. But seriousy, who cares? Look around. Everyone’s together, having a great time, and, well, it’s one kick-ass wedding, that’s all I can say.

“Whatevs,” I say breezily. “Glitter or not, what does it matter? Your desserts are impeccable. Amazing! This whole wedding is—it’s more than I dreamed.” I smack my lips in delight. “Strawberry frosting is to die for, by the way.”

Sophie gives my shoulder a small squeeze. “God, it’s good to have you back, Claire. Laidback, fun-loving Claire.”

“And a married Claire, now,” I say with a wink. I wrap my arms around my very best friend in the entire world and give her as tight a hug as I possibly can.
 

“If you,
married Claire
, ever need anything—anything at all—you know I’m there for you, right?” Sophie pulls away and looks me straight in the eyes. “Right?”

“Absolutely. And same goes for you. Like sisters.”

Sophie sighs. “Like sisters. You’ve got it.”

And, as crazily as it all began—the surprise engagement in Paris—and as crazily as it all went from one planner to the next—the tiffs and laughs along the way, the first wedding, the second wedding—Conner and I finally, officially, and, publicly, became husband and wife.

Whoever says planning a wedding is easy, or that planning a wedding is the most fun and carefree time in a woman’s life, must only have gotten married with less than a week’s notice—in a park. Whoever says planning a wedding is an unforgettable experience and a thrilling adventure is someone who, well, probably had a wedding.

No matter what the blogs and the magazines and the planners and the family and friends say, planning a wedding, having a wedding, and getting married are experiences of a lifetime! And there’s no one right way to plan one. There’s no such thing as a perfect situation, unless, of course, your definition of perfection is you and the groom and crazy-over-the-moon love. In that case, then, yeah, there’s a perfect wedding ahead.

A vintage VW bug pulls up, decorated with the classic empty cans attached to the rear. Even the back window has been painted with “Just Married,” and there are ribbons and balloons sticking out of the windows.

“Time to jet,” Conner says, gripping my hand in his.

I nod fervently, looking down at the crowd that’s gathered at the foot of the stairs and in the large foyer. One descent of these stairs and it’s out the door and off we go to begin our new life together as husband and wife.
Officially
, to us and the world, life together as Mr. and Mrs. Whitley.

“One last big wedding kiss for the photo album?” Conner says.

I look back at the crowd, down at my mom and dad, who are actually standing next to each other. They probably aren’t aware that they’re next to each other, but seeing it nevertheless brings a smile to my face. Sophie and Lara are there, beaming, and Chad’s nearby, holding Schnickerdoodle. Next to them is Jackie, who has her Louis Vuitton doggie carrier clutched tightly to her. I cast about for Emily, and as soon as a flash fires I spot her behind the camera, where she’s happiest. Not far from her is Robin, who’s holding Rose
and
the toss bouquet. Was that a little bit planned? Well, Bobby caught the garter, so you tell me.

I turn to Conner, and he pulls me close, kissing me passionately—long and hard—pulling back and giving me a few more soft kisses, the crowd below cheering merrily. “Let’s go, babe.”

We race down the stairs, petals being thrown at all angles, some even landing amusingly inside the crest of my corset. The petals don’t stop coming, and the cheering gets louder and louder. This is so much fun! As we near the car, the driver holds open the back door for us, and we quickly slip in.