An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) (26 page)

“What, exactly, is funny about this?” he asked, but he was smiling.

“You. You’re really, really cute. Did you know that?”

“My fiancée used to tell me so.”

I felt a pang at that. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a crappy fiancée, Chris.”

“You haven’t…well, okay, maybe recently.”

“When my parents split up, it made me think love was hopeless,” I said. “It made me doubt everything I thought I knew about happiness.”

His eyes went wide. “Ashley,” he said, his voice low. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I should have. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not going to end up like that, Ash—unless we stop talking to each other. So long as we both know what’s going on up here,” he brushed the hair away from my forehead, “and up here,” he brought his other hand to his own head, “we’ll be okay. We
will
.”

“I know. I promise I won’t keep things from you again. I’m sorry I let myself get so scared.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for being scared. Just tell me so I can help you feel better.”

“I think it also freaked me out, being so mad at her. Like, it opened up all these feelings I always try to hide.” I was embarrassed, admitting this to him, but I pressed on. “About how inadequate I feel around her.”

“You are
not
inadequate,” he said firmly.

I smiled. “Thanks. But I feel that way, sometimes. I put too much pressure on myself to be what she wants. And I think I really resented it, for a long time, without ever letting myself admit it.”

“So now that you know she’s not perfect either, it kind of threw all that back in your face?”

I nodded. “I need to work on it. She’s not the one who makes me feel that way, you know? I do it to myself.”

“Let me help you work on it. I’ll tell you everyday how amazing you are if that’s what it takes.”

I kissed the tip of his nose. “I will. Thank you.”

Chris bent his head to kiss me again, for much longer this time. By the time he pulled away, I was lightheaded, my toes tingling. “I missed you,” he murmured against my mouth. “You really scared me when you left. Please don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

“Come here.” He pulled me over to the couch and onto his lap, where I snuggled in close, breathing in his familiar scent. “Do you know when I knew I loved you?”

I shook my head against his chest.

“Do you remember our sophomore year, when you and Em lived in that crappy apartment and we tried to have a Thanksgiving dinner?”

I smiled at the memory. “That
was
a crappy apartment.”

“It was. And a crappy dinner.”

“Hey, I worked hard to make that half-frozen turkey.”

Chris laughed before his voice turned solemn. “That was the year Ryan’s dad left, remember?”

I nodded. “That’s why I wanted to do the dinner, because he was so upset.”

“You were so worked up about the turkey,” Chris continued. “Because you wanted everything to be perfect for him. And then he started laughing…”

I remembered it well. Ryan had politely tried to pretend that the burned stuffing and paste-like mashed potatoes were edible, knowing I had worked hard to make a special meal for him. But when he cut into the still frozen turkey, he had lost it, laughing until tears streamed down his face. It was one of those times when something seems a lot funnier than it really is, and before long all four of us were howling, clutching the table for support, my failure of a Thanksgiving dinner spread out around us.

I had looked up at Ryan, seeing him laughing and so happy there with his friends, and felt an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that the four of us had each other. I remember wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging him so tight he complained he couldn’t breathe.

“I remember watching you laughing and hugging him,” Chris said, his voice soft. “And I thought, ‘her heart is so good.’ That’s when I knew that I loved you.”

“Chris,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

“I want to marry you, Ashley. Whenever and wherever you want. If you need time, we’ll take time. And if you wanted to, I’d go to Vegas tomorrow.”

I squeezed him tight, that same feeling of thankfulness overwhelming me. I hadn’t messed it up too bad. I still had Chris. He still wanted to marry me.

“About the wedding,” I said, pulling back so I could look up at him. His face was relaxed and happy again. He looked like my Chris.

“Yeah?”

“I kind of wanted to talk to you about that. I have an idea…”

Chapter Twenty-seven

“How do you feel?”

I looked at Allison, determined not to cry anymore—I’d been a bit weepy all morning.

“I feel great,” I said. I meant it, too. I had expected to be nervous, but all I felt was excitement. I couldn’t wait to do this.

“Well, you look amazing,” she said, adjusting my veil slightly. “Ryan, you were right about this dress. It’s perfect.”

I sighed happily, looking down at my dress. “I’m so glad it worked for the new location. Imagine if I would have picked a huge ball gown. It would look ridiculous here.”

“It would look ridiculous anywhere, shorty,” she said. I pushed her. “Hey, let’s not mess up the couture, all right?”

She looked pretty amazing herself, the dress we had picked out all those months ago was really perfect for her. The shade of coral pink, so hard fought for, looked great against her blonde hair.

“She has a point,” Ryan said. He nudged me aside so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjust his tie. He sighed. “I’m still bummed I don’t get to wear a tux. I look really good in a tux.”

“You look really good in a suit, too,” I assured him.

“Let’s hope Brian thinks so, huh?” He grinned at me in the mirror, and I felt a rush of affection for him. He was giving things another try with Brian, and I had a feeling it was going to work out this time.

Ryan said that was just my eternal romantic optimism talking. I took it as a compliment.

There was a knock on the door. “Everyone decent in here?” Emily called from the hallway.

“Yeah,” I called back.

She opened the door and slipped in, stopping suddenly when she saw me. “Oh, Ashley,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful!”

I laughed. “You were in here when I put the dress on. You did up all the buttons,” I reminded her.

“I know, but now you have the veil…oh, Ash,” she sniffled and threw her arms around me.

“Careful,” Ryan warned. “I spent a lot of time getting her to look like that. You better not mess it up.”

“I love how he implies there’s no natural beauty in this package,” I muttered.

There was another knock on the door, and Emily went to answer it, revealing Brooke standing in the hallway, looking ridiculously gorgeous in a deep blue sheath, ruched at the waist to accentuate her curves. Like they needed any help.

“Oooh, you’re all done up, let me see,” she said, coming in and shutting the door behind her. She looked me up and down. “Ashley, you are simply beautiful. The prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”

I beamed at her.

“Well, I’ve just come from your groom’s room,” she said. “I think he might be a little peeved that the best man is not there to help him. His tie was awfully crooked.”

“Oh dear God,” Ryan mumbled, bolting for the door. “He cannot have a crooked tie.”

Brooke turned to me, smiling. “Everything is all set downstairs. I think everyone is here. Consider this your five-minute warning.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling the first flutter of nerves as she turned to go. “Brooke,” I called after her. She turned back. “Thank you so much for doing all this at such short notice.”

She smiled again and came toward me, pulling me into a hug. “Girl, I thought it was an honor to host the engagement. Do you have any idea how stoked I am to have the wedding at my inn?”

“We’re happy, too,” I said sincerely. “When we decided to change it, we literally couldn’t think of a better place. But I know it was a lot to ask of you on such short notice.”

“Your wedding planner girl did most of the work,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “And it looks really great down there.”

I felt giddy as Brooke left the room. I believed her when she said it looked good because I myself had chosen just about every detail of the event, from the flowers to the food to the music the string quartet would be playing.

I had contacted Jen the day I came home from Boston, telling her about my idea to change the wedding. She had been stunned, especially when I told her we wanted to bump it up to June, right when I got out of school. But she assured me she could pull it off.

“I had to reorganize my best friend’s wedding at the last minute, and it was the best event I’ve ever planned,” she told me, in that firm voice I had come to associate with her. In a way, Jen reminded me of my mother—two women both very good at getting things done. Jen quickly ended the phone call so she could start cancelling things.

In the end, we decided that Brooke’s inn was the perfect solution. Brooke could get us in on short notice, it could easily fit the fifty or so guests we wanted to share the day with, and Brooke would be able to help Jen pull it all off. Best of all, of course, it had sentimental significance.

Chris had then held my hand while I called my mother and told her we needed to talk. He had even offered to go to the coffee house with me to break the news to her, though I declined, knowing it was something I needed to do on my own.

She didn’t take it nearly so well.

She stared at me for a full minute after I told her I wanted to cancel the wedding she had planned. And then, she did the strangest thing: she started to cry. Not just watery eyes, but big, heaving gulps, right there in the coffee house.

“Mom, please don’t,” I begged, handing her napkins. I had never seen my mother cry in public before. Much like yelling, arguing, or talking about money, it just wasn’t something she did. It scared me.

“Do you hate me that much?” she asked, wiping at her eyes with the napkin. “I know you’re angry, but Ashley, I couldn’t bear it if I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not doing this to punish you.”

“It feels like you are,” she said, crying even harder. Across the room, I saw our waiter eye us worriedly. “It feels like you’re cutting me out because you’re mad at me.”

“Mom,” I sighed. “I’m doing this for me, okay? Not because of you.”

“But that’s why I planned the wedding,” she cried. “I planned it
for
you. I wanted you to have a beautiful wedding, just like you always dreamed of. I didn’t want any of the mess I created with your father to affect your special day. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“You did?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I had never thought of it that way.

“Of course, Ashley. You
deserve
a beautiful wedding.”

“I thought you wanted it to be perfect so you could show off for your friends,” I said, feeling a little bad but determined, for once, to be fully honest with her. She gaped at me.

“You really do think very little of me, don’t you?”

“No, Mom,” I said, feeling really bad now. “You just…you always seem so concerned about what everyone else thinks.”

She wiped her eyes again, seeming to get herself together.

“I know I do that,” she said quietly. “I’ve always been that way. My mother was, too.” She smiled suddenly. “It used to drive me crazy.”

I felt a great swell of affection for her. I realized I had missed her these last few months.

“But, Ashley, you need to know. None of that mattered to me as much as your happiness. I swear to you, all I wanted was for you to have a perfect day.”

“I should have told you a long time ago that I wanted to plan the wedding my way,” I said, looking down at the table. “I was angry at you about Daddy, but I still didn’t want to make you mad, so I just let it go. Let you plan everything. I should have spoken up.”

“You’re allowed to be angry at me, Ashley,” she said, her voice soft. “I know I did an unforgivable thing. But you need to know I didn’t do it to hurt you. And I certainly didn’t do it to hurt your father.”

“I want you to be happy, Mom,” I whispered, still staring at the table.

I heard her sigh, almost as if she was relieved. “I just don’t see why you don’t want to have the wedding. Jen did such a nice job on everything.”

“I know, Mom.” I took a deep breath and looked up at her. “It’s important for me to do this my way. The way Chris and I want it. I, um, have a tendency of just going along with what…certain other people want, and never standing up for myself. I need to work on that.”

I had nearly said, “with what
you
want,” but had lost my nerve at the last minute. As she met my eyes, though, I was pretty sure she understood.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she finally said. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed, but I won’t put up a fight. Whatever you think will make you happy will be fine with me.” Her eyes welled up again. “You’re a wonderful daughter, Ashley. Your father and I both love you very much.” She stared into my eyes intently. “No matter what.”

I knew we had a lot more work to do to repair our relationship, but after that day, it stopped seeming so hopeless to me. Maybe I would find a way to be honest with her and stand up to her more, and maybe she’d find a way to let me.

“Is Mom here yet?” I asked Allison, a little flicker of unease shooting through me.

“Want me to go check?” I nodded and she squeezed my arm. I hoped she was downstairs already. Part of me wanted her to come up, to see me before the guests. I had always imagined she’d be here with me, helping me to get ready. But I knew I wasn’t quite ready for that, not yet.

Everything happened very fast after that. Amy and my dad showed up, my little sister looking bored and my dad handsome in his black suit. He had gained most of his weight back and was sleeping much better. I almost suspected he was enjoying the freedom to putter around with his woodworking without being lectured. He had signed up for several summer craft shows.

Ryan stopped by on his way downstairs to give me a long hug. “You look gorgeous, babe,” he whispered in my ear. “So does your boy, by the way. And he can’t wait to see you.”