Lovestruck Forever (33 page)

“What
else do you need, Lizzie?” Maria asked in her no-nonsense
voice.

“Just
my veil.” I looked to my mother, radiant in navy blue. “Will
you help me?”

Maria
handed her the veil from its hanger by the mirror, and my mother
brought it to me. “Duck your head a little, sweetheart.”
I did as she asked, bending down so she could place the comb in my
loose chignon. The veil flowed out around my shoulders as I
straightened, and the hush in the room told me what I already knew—I
was ready.

“Ladies?”
The vicar’s wife stuck her head in the room. “We’ll
start in just a moment.”

“Thank
you,” my mother told her. “We’ll be right out.”

There
was a flurry of activity as my bridesmaids came to give me one last
hug.

“You
look perfect,” Callie told me, holding me tight. “The
most perfect bride.”

“Thanks,
Cal.”

Laura
hugged me next. “You look entirely too calm. You’re
supposed to be a little nervous!”

I
shook my head, grinning at her. “Nope. No nerves here.”

“I
can’t believe we’re finally going to be sisters!”
Bryony squealed, squeezing me hard.

“I’m
so happy for that, Bry.”

I
looked at Sofie, and she merely shook her head, waving her hands by
her eyes. “I’ll burst into tears if I touch you. Blame
the hormones.”

I
laughed and grabbed her anyhow. “I love you, chica.”

She
hugged me back before pushing me away, dabbing at her eyes. “
See
?”

I
laughed and turned to Maria. She was looking at me as if I was
unfamiliar to her. “Lizzie, you’re all grown up,”
she said, shaking her head.

For
the first time that day, I felt like I might cry.

“Thank
you for all of this, Maria,” I whispered.

She
pulled me into her arms. “Thank you for forgiving me, little
sister.”

Before
I could really start to tear up, she released me, pointing me in the
direction of my mother who was grinning at me so broadly, I thought
her face must hurt. I thought of rushing to her side last March, of
the fear that she might not be here for this day, and felt so
entirely grateful, it took my breath away.

“My
Lizzie,” she whispered, patting my face the way she always did.
She didn’t say anything else, didn’t have to. She’d
already taught me everything I needed to know about loving someone,
about being a family. What other message was even half as important
on my wedding day?

Then
the vicar’s wife was knocking once more, and my mother squeezed
my hands before she went out to take her seat. The girls lined up in
front of me, and from the chapel, I could hear the music start.

“Ready,
Lizita?” my dad asked, appearing at my side.

I
turned to him, my grin impossibly large, and slipped my hand into his
arm, adjusting my flowers.

When
the doors to the chapel opened for the girls to walk through, I
caught a glimpse of candlelight and a blur of faces. I took a deep
breath, waiting. I’d been impatient for this for months now,
and it was finally here. I could stand to wait a few seconds more.

Sofie
stepped through the doorway in front of us, and I sucked in a deep
breath. This was it. Our turn next. My dad squeezed the hand that
rested on his arm and then took a step forward.

From
the moment we entered the church, I only had eyes for Thomas. I was
vaguely aware of Charlie behind him, his brother and my brothers
behind Charlie, but they were mostly a blur to me. How could I look
at anyone else, with Thomas there?

I
had seen him smile a dozen different smiles in the years that I had
known him. A teasing smile that meant laughter was imminent. A joyous
smile when we got engaged. A bracing smile when my mom was sick. A
sad smile every time we had to say goodbye. Since the first night I
met him, I had been cataloging those smiles, wondering what each
meant, wanting to learn all of his secrets. Two years later, I
thought I knew them all.

But
he had
never
smiled like this before.

Without
me quite realizing what was happening, my dad was kissing my cheek,
releasing my hand. A hand that Thomas then took, squeezing it gently.
Sofie took my bouquet from me, freeing my other hand.

The
vicar talked about love and loyalty, about family and commitment. All
the while, my eyes never left Thomas’s, my smile never
faltered. I wanted the ceremony to last forever, for the sacred words
to swirl around us, imprinting into our hearts. At the same time, I
wished the vicar would hurry up, that we would just be married
without further delay.

When
it was time for Thomas to say his vows, his voice was clear and
confident. I knew he had no doubts, knew it as clearly as I knew my
own heart was certain. I said my vows, hoping that certainty was as
clear in my voice as it had been in his.

I
glanced away only once, right before the vicar pronounced us husband
and wife. Just a quick flick of my eyes toward my parents. My dad has
his arm around my mom, and they were both beaming, my mom crying
silently. If I had ever doubted that they were truly happy about the
London location, I knew for sure then that the doubt had been
unfounded.

I
felt a huge rush of excitement in my chest as the vicar’s words
drew to a close. Our moment was here, finally. When he pronounced us
husband and wife, I was sure my heart would burst from joy, that I
couldn’t possibly fit any more love or happiness into my chest.
But then Thomas was leaning in to kiss me and I realized that my joy
was limitless.

A
cheer rose up from our friends and family as we turned, arm in arm,
to walk back up the aisle. Every face we passed was beaming at us,
everyone in the church thrilled for us. I felt Thomas squeeze my hand
a little tighter, and I squeezed back. I turned slightly to see the
wedding party following us, our sisters and brothers and friends, a
lifetime of support and love. Then I squeezed Thomas’s hand one
more time and let my husband lead me out of the church and into our
future.

***

Mr.
Idoni’s restaurant was loud with laughter and music. A
makeshift dance floor had been set up in the far corner, and several
of our guests were dancing to the music from the D.J. Others were
mingling, eating, and drinking. There was a loud buzz of conversation
in the room, and I closed my eyes, letting the noises of happiness
wash over me.

“Hello,
wife,” Thomas said, sliding into the chair next to me. “Here’s
your wine, wife.”

“Thank
you, husband. You’re a very attentive husband, you know.”

He
grinned at me. “Do you think that will ever get old?”

“I
can’t imagine how. I can see it bugging other people, however.”

He
laughed, taking my hand. “Good point.” We sat in silence
for a moment, watching our guests. “It’s pretty cool,
isn’t it? This is all because of us, Lizzie—all these
people coming together, becoming a family. Just because we fell in
love.”

“It
is pretty remarkable.”

On
the dance floor, Sofie was allowing JJ to lead her in an awkward
waltz. As I watched, Jackson Coles approached her and cut in. I
frowned, not liking the look of that one bit. She was staring up at
him, wide-eyed, and I thought I caught a glimpse of that famous
smooth-as-silk smile of his.

“Don’t
worry about it,” Thomas urged, noticing what had caught my eye.
“He’ll flirt with her a bit and make her feel good about
herself. It’s nice.”

“If
he messes with my cousin, you are so going to regret inviting him,”
I said.

“I
will keep that in mind.”

Looking
at Jackson made me think of that terrible week after Franny’s
interview had been published. Thomas and I had dealt with the issue
by releasing a joint statement asserting, in the strongest language
possible, that the entire thing was a lie and our wedding was going
on as planned. I had hoped the story would fizzle out eventually
without damaging Thomas’s reputation too much. Before that
could happen, a number of people came forward, supporting Thomas’s
statement. I had been surprised when Jackson was one of them, writing
in his statement that he and I were friends, and it was clear to
anyone who had seen us together that Thomas and I were deeply in love
and committed. I had realized then that, whatever else his faults,
Jackson Coles was a good and loyal friend.

And
if that had been a surprise, Lola Fischer coming forward to agree
with Jackson’s statement had been a downright shock.

A
savvy reporter had then been able to prove that the pictures of
Thomas and Franny were from months prior, invalidating many of her
claims. Her story seemed to lose a lot of credibility after that, to
my immense relief.

“You
never told me how Franny was helping you,” I said suddenly. In
the excitement of the double wedding news, I had completely forgotten
that their interaction had to do with my surprise.

Thomas
shook his head at the sound of her name, and I momentarily regretted
saying anything. But I was too curious to drop it. “Did she
help with the wedding?”

“I
ran into her at the banquet hall at the Madison. Remember, that
restaurant you had pinned to your wedding board? Anyhow, I went there
to check it out and Franny was there with a client. She’s been
working as an event planner since we broke up.” He shook his
head. “I was cordial, stupid of me. When I told her what I was
planning, she offered to show me a few venues that she had contacts
with.” He shook his head once more. “The really stupid
thing, of course, was me thinking that I needed to find some fancy
venue. Obviously this was the place.”

“You
really can’t beat Idoni’s for any reason,” I
agreed.

I
fell silent, thinking of Franny. We hadn’t talked about her
once since the incident occurred. “Why do you think she did
it?” I asked. “What was in it for her?”

Thomas
looked at me, and I was surprised to see the overwhelming tenderness
in his eyes. “You would never understand her motivations,
Lizzie, because you could never understand how someone like that
ticks. You’re too good, too loyal. Too sure of yourself and
unconcerned about the petty opinion of others.”

“What
does that—”

“A
person like Franny only cares about herself. About getting what she
wants. About attention, first and foremost. She thinks she’s
entitled to it, entitled to whatever she wants. That’s why she
went after Jackson. It’s why she wanted her name and picture in
the paper. Even if it was for something unsavory and unbecoming, the
brush with fame was enough for her.” He brushed a finger across
my cheek. “She is the opposite of you.”

We
were interrupted by Charlie’s arrival. “What are you lot
doing?”

“Talking
about Franny,” Thomas said.

Charlie’s
expression was horrified. “
Franny
?
Why on earth are talking about that slag on your wedding night?”

“Just
reminding Lizzie how lucky I am to have her.”

Charlie
looked from Thomas to me. “Well, I think that’s enough of
the deep conversation. You’re sitting here alone at your own
party.” He shook his head. “Sends a bad message. Makes
you look pretty pathetic, actually.”

“Thank
you,” Thomas said drily. “You are a fantastic best man.”

“Really?”
Charlie asked, brightening. “Thanks, mate.”

I
laughed and held my hand out to Charlie. “Help me up, best
man.”

He
pulled me into a standing position, Thomas following me. Out on the
dance floor, the DJ had switched to something fast and poppy. My
parents were dancing, as were Maria and José. On the other
side of the room, Laura and Frank were sitting close together, both
looking down at Maia, who appeared to be asleep. Only two months old
and she was already an international traveler.

And
Sofie was still dancing with Jackson.

“Are
you guys coming to dance or not?” Callie shouted from the edge
of the dance floor. Behind her, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Harper stepping
out onto the floor, Bryony shooting them a mortified glance that they
would dare do something so lame as dance in public.

“Yeah,
why in the hell are we all standing around?” Meghan asked,
coming up beside us with Carter, Sarra, and Mark in tow. “I
thought this was supposed to be a party.”

“Do
you feel like dancing, wife?” Thomas asked.

“I
do, husband.”

“Okay,
that’s
going to get old,” Sarra mumbled.

“Come
on,” Charlie said. “Let’s get out there.”

Thomas
held my hand as we followed our friends to the dance floor. It was
getting awfully crowded as more of our guests joined us. I wanted
Thomas to take me in his arms, but the song was too upbeat for that.
Instead, we stood in a loose semi-circle with our friends, jumping
around and singing along.

“Just
think, Lizzie,” Thomas shouted to be heard over the music.
“Next week, we get to do this all over again at home!”

I
smiled at his use of the word home to describe Detroit. I hoped we
would keep that mentality—that we had two homes, two families.
Our life in London was everything I ever wanted it to be—but I
never wanted us to forget how welcome and loved we were in the place
where I had grown up.

Charlie
grabbed my hands, swinging me around until I laughed and squealed in
protest, dizzy. When he released me, he moved on to Thomas, trying to
spin him as well. Callie slung an arm around my shoulder, shaking her
head. “They’re like little children, those boys,”
she mused.

“Absolutely,”
I agreed.

“I
love this song!” Meghan called as the DJ moved into another
fast-paced set.

I
felt the energy of the crowd on the floor swell, the sound of
laughter and singing spinning up over the music. I grinned at Thomas,
dancing with abandon, his arms up over his head. Charlie was next to
him, laughing and jumping. Callie and Sofie. Meghan, Carter, Sarra,
and Mark. Imogen, her wide eyes glued to Jackson Coles. My sisters
and my brothers and my aunts and uncles. Anne and Gilbert. My
parents. Everyone I loved, right here in this room with me. Having
fun. Celebrating love and the fact that we were all here together,
alive and healthy.