A Model Romance (True Love Book 3) (27 page)

The Bears win the game, and the crowd is going wild. He and I remain in our seats, gazing at each other. He’s been particularly attentive today, and I’ve noticed.

“Are you as happy as I am, Wick? I have to pinch myself that it’s only been a year since we were here, awkwardly getting to know each other. In a way it feels like yesterday, but it also feels as if I’ve known you my whole life.”

“I feel the same way, love. I’m grateful to you for having the patience to stay with me and help me work through my issues. To celebrate, I’d like to take you back to the restaurant from that first night.”

We haven’t been there since our first date. It was so romantic that now seems like the perfect time, especially with him in this mood.

“Absolutely, Wick. You know how much I loved that place.”

We make a hasty exit, and Melanie and Katie give us knowing grins as we leave. They probably think we’re rushing out of here to go have sex. Anyone watching us today would likely assume the same.

We brace ourselves against the cold, just like last time, and rush to his car.

“Our reservation isn’t for another hour. Do you want to go have a drink beforehand somewhere?”

“I’m good staying right here with you in this warm car,” I say seductively, smiling as I peel off two of my layers.

He keeps the engine running to keep the heat going. He turns on the radio to a soft rock station. I feel like I’m in high school again. He leans over and we begin to kiss. Our rhythm stays slow, in time with the music. I’m overly aroused and feel like I could rip his clothes off with my teeth. Instead I refocus, and enjoy the present, his soft, warm lips caressing mine in a loving gesture.

He breaks our trance when he notices the time.

“Shit, we’re late! Where did the time go?”

We’ve been kissing for over an hour, and it felt like five minutes. My body is thoroughly heated, as are my loins, and my lips are swollen. Best damn feeling in the world.

He speeds over to the restaurant, and parks the car haphazardly. My state of bliss is rudely interrupted by all the rushing around. I guess he’s worried they’ll give away our table.

He practically pulls my arm out of its socket yanking me from the car and pulling me with him into the front door.

“Jesus, Wick! Slow down, what’s the big rush?”

When my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I can’t believe what I see. Dozens of lit candles cover every table. I look beyond them and see that our families and friends are packed in the room. Melanie, Brian and their kids, Katie and Jason’s family, Lachlan, his fiancé, and Wick’s parents, and many more. It’s not even close to my birthday, so I stand, shocked and confused.

I turn back for an explanation from Wick, and he’s kneeling on one knee, looking up at me.

Dear God.

“My dearest, lovely Rebecca. Since the first day I ever laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. I felt a unique connection with you the first time I ever touched your beautiful face. I can’t imagine living on the same planet as you and not sharing every waking moment with you in my arms,” he pauses and pulls a box out of his jacket pocket. “I’ve had this for quite a while, but I wanted the timing to be perfect. Will you marry me, my sweet Becca?”

My eyes fill with tears of joy as he slides the ring on my shaking finger. I feel my head nodding “yes” as he stands and picks me up. He squeezes me tightly and spins me around in full circle. My head is in outer space, floating above it all. None of this feels real.

The love of my life just proposed to me in front of all of our family and friends. He must have been planning this for quite a while. I can’t believe he pulled it off without anyone spoiling up the surprise.

I return back to the here and now, and see that everyone is clapping and whooping for us. Champagne is being poured, and I’m handed a full glass. Once everyone has a drink, Wick pulls me to his side and raises his glass. Everyone in the room follows suit.

“May the best you've ever seen

Be the worst you'll ever see;

May a mouse never leave your pantry

With a teardrop in his eye

May you keep whole and hearty

Till you're old enough to die,

May you be just as happy

As I wish you to be.

“This is my wish for my dear Rebecca and for all of you, our family. My God bless us now and forever.
Slainte
!”

We swallow our drinks, and begin our beautiful celebration.

He’s going to be my husband.

Chapter 24

Wick doesn’t want us to jump ahead of his brother Lach’s wedding, but theirs is still quite a while off. Lach doesn’t graduate until next year, and he and his fiancé don’t want to start planning until he finds a job.

If Wick had his way, we’d be married by a justice of the peace today. I don’t want a huge wedding, but I do want to include our families and special friends. I want to see Melanie’s boys in their tuxes and my little Lou in a little flower-girl gown.

We are unexpectedly lucky to be able to reserve a Saturday date at the Stan Mansion in Logan Square after a last-minute cancellation. The venue is an old masonic temple that has been restored. It’s lovely inside and out. However, it only gives us three weeks to prepare.

I hustle to find a dress, while Melanie and Katie take the lead finding their bridesmaid dresses and helping me organize everything else. We’re keeping the number below a hundred guests, which is about as intimate as we can get given family and close friends.

Wick has never been happier. He is so excited at the prospect of being married, and wants to be involved with the decisions. He requested white heather and purple thistle for the flowers: It’s a traditional Scottish thing. He’s also going to pin a small piece of fabric to my waist, the Dunmore family plaid. It looks like a piece of a tablecloth from an Italian restaurant, red and white squares. I saw a picture of his parents’ wedding, and she was wearing the same patch of plaid that I will be. My family has never had a lot of tradition, unless you count the weird southern ones, so I’m proud to carry on the legacy.

Our wedding is set for the nineteenth of November, the Saturday before Thanksgiving. We’re going to stay in Chicago for the holiday since our families will all be here, and then we’ll leave for our honeymoon the following Sunday. We’re going to Scotland for two weeks to visit his relatives, and see his hometown, I can’t wait. He really wants to visit Georgia, but that trip will have to wait: My kooky relatives might be a deal breaker for him.

We decide now that we’re engaged, to hold off until our wedding night to have sex. The anticipation will build to make the night even more special, or so I keep telling myself. He’s been diving deep into meditation to help. We sleep together, which makes it all the more difficult. When he wakes up beside me in all his glory, it’s almost impossible not to jump him.

“It would seem I have a little problem, love. I had a dream about you last night, and I’ve been a little bit uncomfortable,” he says as he rolls over on top of me, and presses his marble-like erection against my stomach. “Thank God we only have three more days, I’m a bit eager to make love to my
wife
.”

He says “wife” with a huge smile and a nuzzle into my neck. I can’t believe in a few short days we’ll be official. All of the rushed planning has created a slight distraction from the fact that we’re getting
married
, as silly as it sounds.

He gets out of bed with a groan, and puts on his jeans and a thick sweater: one of my many favorite outfits of his. He looks like a male model–slight scruff to his beard, the mussed hair and the tumbled clothes. The difference is that the models I know take time to look like that; for him it’s effortless.

“Dad, Lach and me are going to get our suits today. I’ll be back later to grab my stuff.”

From tonight until the wedding, he’s staying at his parents’ house. His mother insisted so we could have our privacy getting the last minute details ready.

He won’t tell me what the suits look like. Melanie, Katie and their girls are wearing emerald dresses, so I pray he went with basic black. He’s also chosen all the music for the ceremony and the reception. If I had any time on my hands to stress all the details, I might be freaking out about lack of control, but it’s been good for me to learn how to relinquish having a say in everything. Melanie, on the other hand, is about to lose it. It’s driving her crazy that he’s keeping some things secret, which he finds very funny. He’s been teasing her about the light pink tuxedos and it’s working like a charm.

The morning of the wedding, I receive one text from Wick:
Thank you for sharing your life with me today. I promise to love you more each day than the one before. I cherish you, my sweet lass.

I send back:
I love you, too. Look for me later. I’ll be the one in white.

The girls look beautiful. Grace and Lou have their hair up in high buns with heather in them. Mel and Katie have flowing curls, and look stunning in the dark green. My dress is a fitted lace bohemian-style, with a slight train. My hair has soft curls with a loose braid around the crown. Small white and purple flowers are woven through it. The purple really stands out against my red hair; he made a good choice.

When we line up at the doors to enter the ballroom for the ceremony, I hear Katie gasp. She’s at the front of the procession and can see into the room. She pulls Mel by the arm to show her whatever it is that surprised her. Needless to say, I make a push toward the door to see for myself. They stop me in my tracks.

“No, Bec. You need to be surprised,” Mel says, a strange look on her face.

Panic rises in my chest. I don’t need bad surprises right now; I’m about to get married! They look at each other, and then back at me once more. I can’t read their faces at all. Too damned late to do anything now, I’ll just take it all in, I proclaim to myself.

That’s when I hear it.

A piercing noise, that is so haunting I get chills: Bagpipes are playing. No wonder he didn’t want me to know, it’s a spectacular surprise. The wedding planner lines us up, and my sweet baby Lou walks in first. I can hear the “oohs” and “ahs” from here. She’s carrying a small basket with white heather to sprinkle. After a moment or so, I hear a slight thud sound and raucous laughter. If she fell, I don’t think anyone would be laughing, but it’s Lou so there’s no telling what she’s done. Mel rolls her eyes as if to say, “What fresh hell is this?” and makes me laugh.

She and Katie follow Grace, and it’s just me and Dad, waiting our turn.

“I like Wickham a great deal, sweetheart. You both did well finding each other. Of course, if he screws up in any way, he’s gonna have a big can of whoop-ass to deal with!” Dad says in an exaggerated Georgian accent. I laugh, then cry as he offers his arm.

It’s time.

When the doors open, the bagpipes begin to play the Scottish wedding march. It’s touching, but it’s not what takes my breath away.

Wick, Lachlan and their dad are dressed in full traditional Scottish kilts. They have bolero-style tuxedo jackets and ties on top adorned with large silver buttons. They’re also wearing tall white socks, and black shoes that lace up to the calf. They look incredible: especially my husband-to-be.

His muscular legs and chest were made for this outfit. I can’t believe how gorgeous he looks. His kilt is the familiar Dunmore plaid, with dark green accents. I’m standing still, mesmerized by the sight. I feel a slight tug on the arm that’s linked with my father’s. How embarrassing! I’m holding up my own wedding by drooling over the groom. After I get over the initial shock, I notice the look on his face. He’s beaming with pride. His eyes are tearing up, and I see a tear roll down his cheek the closer I get. I can’t take my eyes off of him.

I kiss my father, and he and Wick share a hearty handshake. Dad leans in and whispers something to him that pales Wick ever so slightly. With a not-too-subtle slap on his back, Dad takes his place next to my mom. Wick’s shocked look lasts only a second, then his glance is back on me, replaced by one of love. We join hands and stand before the minister.

Our vows are short and sweet. We promise to love, cherish, and never ever to quit on one another. The minister performs the traditional “handfasting,” where our hands are bound together during the ceremony by a piece of plaid. I love how Wick wanted to incorporate so much of his history into our wedding.

The rest of the evening disappears in a blur. I’m thankful we have plenty of friends taking pictures and video, or I might not remember it.

The last surprise Wick wanted for the night, was to choose the location for the wedding night. We’ll stay at my place through Thanksgiving until the honeymoon, but he wanted someplace special for tonight. How in the world could I say no?