Total Trainwreck (17 page)

A full-length lace sheath dress falls elegantly to the floor from a padded satin hanger. Beside it, a lace-trimmed veil and a pair of killer blue Louboutins. Wait...what?

“How could you pull this off?” I ask, still dumbly staring at the hanging haute couture.

“Ernest is very resourceful given a few hours. It doesn’t hurt to have one of the wealthiest Mediterranean ports a short flight away, either.” I keep forgetting Devon doesn’t dwell in the same reality as the rest of the world. What he wants, he gets.

I spin wildly only to find him on one knee, a blood-red velvet box clutched in his hand. A box like that only comes from one store...Cartier. I nearly lose my footing.

“Carly Klein, will you marry me?” he asks, nerves halting his words. It’s beyond everything. The box pops open to reveal a thick, pavé diamond LOVE cuff. A
price upon request
piece that’s blinding exquisite. You can’t walk into a store and buy one...unless you’re Devon Hayes.

This. This bracelet will be the part of
us
I hold onto. When our crazy world makes me question what we have, I’ll cling to it and remember.

“Yes, Devon Hayes. I’ll marry your insane ass!” I fly into his arms, certain I am the luckiest woman alive.

Chapter Twenty

The dress and fingertip veil are beyond gorge, covered with snowflake-delicate lace. The simple fluted gown fits me like a second skin, thanks to wardrobe department measurements, I’m sure. Jane kneels to steady the cobalt blue Louboutins for me. I slip into the handmade French shoes and straighten a solid four inches taller. Adjusting my skirt over the shoes, I turn back to the mirror. The dress was hemmed to accommodate the heels. The tiniest tip of blue peeks out from under the lace. I step back and admire the overall effect, smiling giddily, wringing my hands together and clenching my teeth out of sheer nervousness. How all this was pulled together I haven’t a clue. But today is my wedding day. My wedding day. To Devon Hayes. The Sexiest Man Alive.

“You look gorgeous.” Jane hands me a glass of champagne and tilts her flute in tribute. Out of sheer habit I take it. Half the glass slips past my lips before I remember. Shaking my head, I hand it back. He wants me sober. I want me sober. I turn again to the mirror, totally drunk on my reflection and giving zero fucks about it. Because let’s be honest, if a girl can’t be self-obsessed on her wedding day, when can she be? I’m straightening my lipstick when it hits me.

The bubbles flood my stomach and immediately sour. I grab my gut and double over. My throat tightens. Saliva floods my mouth. I slap a hand over my face to keep from blowing and dash to the bathroom. Jane’s right behind me. She pulls my hair and veil out of the way. I fall to my knees and hug the porcelain bowl. My body convulses and I spew champagne into the water. Then proceed to dry heave until there’s nothing left. The cool porcelain feels good against my blazing-hot cheek. I rest there, head on the seat, arms around the bowl, collecting my thoughts. What the hell? Once the nausea subsides, something else grips my stomach. Dread.

I sit back on my heels, starring at the toilet and shaking my head. Dread turns to terror. It’s hard to breathe. The dress strangles me. I pull at the strands of seed pearls around my neck.

“Jane, I can’t do this.” I’m babbling as fast as words can flow.

“Yes you can.” Jane is calm and unruffled, dampening a washcloth and dabbing my lips.

“No I can’t. Alcohol never makes me puke. This is some kind of omen.” I don’t argue when she pulls me from the floor and sits me in a chair beside the bathtub.

“Calm down, Cold Feet.” She arranges my veil back into place. “It’s nerves.” She massages my shoulders, coaxing them from a high and tight position by my ears. “You love him.”

I nod.

“He obviously loves you.”

I nod and smile.

“That’s all that matters today.” She crosses her arms and leans against the countertop, nodding her head to emphasize her point. “This marriage isn’t official. No prenup filed at the courthouse. No marriage license listed in public records. TMI isn’t hiding in the bushes. Drones aren’t flying overhead. The beach will be deserted except for you, Devon and an ancient priest. No one will ever know what you’ve done.” Her look is steady and assuring in a motherly way.

I pull at my pearls again and stare at the blue Louboutins and handmade lace. She’s right. I’m being a total wuss. No one will ever know because there will be zero proof of what we’re doing. I find my backbone and straighten at the thought.

“Now, let’s fix this.” She circles a finger around the makeup malfunction my toilet hugging created.

“I’m marrying Devon Hayes,” I say under my breath. “I’m marrying Devon Hayes today.” My affirmation grows louder, sitting down in the makeup chair Jane guides me to. “Mrs. Devon Hayes,” I say, and immediately gasp. With wide eyes, I find Jane’s gaze in the mirror. Together we squeal like little girls.

* * *

I stand on the edge of the beach under cover of a lush tree canopy, trying to breathe normally like I’m not freaking the fuck out. There’s a white sand path tracing through the underbrush, strewn with tropical petals. In my hands, I clutch a bouquet of orchids and ferns close to my belly.
Where is he?

The sun prepares to depart the horizon. Lanterns line the path, lighting my way through a falling dusk. Nerves grip my stomach, but I push my feet forward. I’m halfway down the path, walking slowly on my tiptoes because walking in sand is damn near impossible in three-inch heels. I round a small turn in the path and he pops into view, splendid and perfect in a dove-gray suit. A smile breaks over his face, wide and toothy, stretching from ear to ear. I freeze, taken aback by his rugged beauty. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve this fairy tale. I decide I’d better hurry before someone else realizes this.

I pick up the pace, and immediately my heels sink like I’m walking in quicksand. I stumble, unbalanced by the shifting terrain. Devon moves to help me, but I quickly right myself. I take another step and the heel sinks again. Fuck this.

In one quick motion, I hike up my skirt and flick my foot to the side. A blue designer shoe sails into the woods. One more awkward showgirl kick and the other joins it. Devon laughs and holds his hands out for me. Oh, who cares
?
No longer restrained by the heels, I run the rest of the way down the path and into his arms.

“You look amazing.” I lean in for a kiss but he holds me at bay, shaking his head like this is suddenly taboo. Is he for real going to make me wait? I turn to the priest, wondering how long it’s gonna be until we get there. Whoa. He really is ancient. Standing still, staring out to sea, a soft breeze blowing the thinned white hair atop his head. He doesn’t look at anything. Not me. Not Devon. Not really even the sea.

Milky clouds cover his once green eyes. The holy man is blind. I turn to Devon and immediately understand. It’s just the three of us on this beach. And the only person to witness our union is blind. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tell anyone for certain who he’s marrying on this beach. Relief settles me. I take a deep breath and Devon’s hand. He tucks his head, silently asking me if I’m ready. I nod and he speaks a word of Italian to the priest.

He opens his bible, clears his throat and begins. His Italian is strangely accented but beautifully soothing. I try to concentrate on what he’s saying. Really, I do. But I don’t understand a word of it and in a matter of seconds my mind drifts. Who can blame me? I’ve got an ancient priest I can’t understand on one side and the Sexiest Man Alive on the other. Come on. I’m human. My gaze strays to Devon. I sigh and lick my lips.

Pink fingers of light filter through the forest, spilling over his shoulders and into his salt-and-pepper hair. On the horizon, the sun sets fiery orange and red hot. Our world ignites with surreal color, stoking the fire that burns between us. Devon’s not even looking at me, but I can feel it. Flowing from his hand into mine, reaching from his heart out to mine—an electric undercurrent of pure, unbridled passion and love that neither of us has ever been able to shake. No matter how desperately we should.

Here we stand, on the same patch of sand where we first fell in love, pledging our lives to each other the only way we can. There’s something epically beautiful in the moment. Something most “official” marriages no doubt miss. Because those are usually overblown displays of cheese ball, store-bought love for a bloated guest list. This is entirely different. A moment stripped down and devoid of everything that doesn’t matter.

Our love has always been bigger than us. It’s never cared what we wanted or what we were supposed to do or even who we are. Silver screen god. Struggling starlet. Love never cared. Take away everything we are and all that’s left is two broken people who found each other and somehow came together to make each other whole.

“Ahem.” Devon clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?” I ask, then suddenly remember what I’m doing in a white dress in the tropical woods. “Oh.” I startle and turn to the priest. He’s still staring at the ocean, which is zero help. “I don’t know what he’s saying,” I whisper to Devon sheepishly.

“He’s asking if you want to marry me.” Devon’s head tucks down and to the side, an off-kilter move that puts us at eye level. He bites his lip, and I see fear sparking behind navy blue. No doubt my wandering mind put that spark there.

“Of course I do,” I say quickly as I can, frantically nodding my head.

“You need to tell him that.” Devon nods at the priest.

“Yes. I do. I will. Forever.” I answer every way I can think of.

“The word is
si,
” Devon offers.

“
Si
,” I repeat at the stone-faced man. He doesn’t move. “
SI
!” I shout as loud as I can, fearing his ears are as used up as his eyes. The priest jumps and drops his bible. Of course this would happen to me. Devon and I are both so on edge we immediately bend to get it for him. We’re so in sync, we move the same way at the same time and end up slamming our heads together.

We fall back on our heels, clutching our foreheads. Devon ends up with the bible and I hold the priest’s sterling silver place marker. For serious seconds we stare at each other. I worry I’ve ruined this beautiful moment. Until a smile tugs at Devon’s lips. Only we would end up flat on our butts, rubbing our heads at the priest’s feet during our own wedding. Devon’s grin turns into a snorting chuckle. Now I can’t help but laugh either. We scramble to our feet and return the bible and place marker to its rightful owner. I retrieve my orchids from the sand and we straighten once more, both trying desperately to keep the smiles off our faces. The surreal moment has passed. Now it’s just real. Devon’s hand snakes over my lower back, down to my ass on the pretense of brushing sand from the delicate lace. Yeah, right
.
But there’s no one here to stop us. So I return the favor, brushing his rear end and giving a nice squeeze for good measure. We turn to each other. The priest continues in his foreign language. He pauses again.

“
Si
,” Devon answers, looking deep into my eyes. “
Si
,” he says again. “As long as there is breath in my body.” He adds his own promise in a low whisper, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. From his breast pocket, he draws the blood-red jewelry box. The top springs open and in waning light I see the sparkling cuff from earlier. He plucks it from between velvet folds and drops the box to the ground. With one hand he unsnaps my red leather cuff. It melts off my wrist, and I feel all sorts of naked.

The worn leather is tucked inside his breast pocket. The platinum and diamonds slide over my hand into place. He takes a palm-sized platinum screwdriver on a long chain from his pocket and secures it in place. Without that handy tool, the bracelet will never come off. It’s the closest we can get to rings. For now. I look around for something to give him. There’s nothing, and I raise my palms to my side. He drops the chain into my hand. I slide it over his neck, pull his collar out and drop it next to his skin. He smiles at me with utter contentment.

“
Beso
,” the priest says slowly. Any idiot knows exactly what that means.

The atmosphere goes electric. I realize what a pivotal moment this is in our lives. How big of a commitment we are making to one another. I place my left hand on Devon’s chest, loving how the new bracelet sparkles against his gray suit, and rise to my tiptoes in the sand. His arms circle my lower back and he pulls me into him. We stare into each other’s eyes for a brief second, both relishing the moment and wanting it to last. I close my eyes, and he pulls me closer still. Our lips share the softest meeting. No tongues in this kiss, just sweetly dampened lips.

It’s a simple kiss, but it’s everything. Everything wrong made right. Everything lost, found. Everything broken, fixed. Never in my life did I expect a man like Devon Hayes to love me. Never did I expect my battered heart to be capable of loving any man like I love Devon Hayes.

We still have to climb Everest before we can reach our final happily-ever-after. But it’s coming, I can feel it. In this moment, with this kiss, we promise ourselves to each other and to the shared goal of finding a way for the world to love us as much as we love each other.

* * *

Devon’s got me piggyback, my orchids clutched between his teeth, my shoes in one hand, carrying me up the sandy pathway. We’re all sorts of giddy, excited, cheese ball in love with each other. The diamond cuff gives me a thrill every time it slides over my wrist.

He stops abruptly. His body goes rigid. I nearly knock my teeth out on the back of his head.

“What?” I ask, wondering what has stolen our carefree moment. Devon peers into the filtered evening light, looking out to the beach. He releases my thighs and takes the flowers from his mouth. I slide from his back. My skirt falls in place down my legs. “What is it?”

Silently he stares with bird dog precision into the brown darkness. I strain my eyes to see what’s got his attention. All I can find is Tiny escorting the priest down the dock for the ride back to the mainland. I put my hand on Devon’s shoulder, but it does nothing to break his concentration.
Oh shit!
I gasp. Have they found us? Is someone there? Watching? Waiting to ruin our world. I quickly remove my hand from Devon.

He takes off toward the beach. First walking, then running. Nervously I shift from one foot to the other. Do I stay here? Do I follow him? Do I hide? Down on the beach, Devon is in full-on charging mode straight toward the dock. What the hell? He’s almost to the horrible
HeaVon on Earth
sign that welcomes guests to the island when he lowers his torso and body-tackles the wooden pole. With a crack that rings over the water, they both go sailing to the ground.

Devon leaps up, grabbing the pole with both hands like he would strangle it if he could. Instead, he grabs both ends, steadies his foot in the middle of the pole and snaps it in half. He tosses a piece away. Again, he puts his shoe to the wooden throat of an imaginary enemy and splits it off. The rectangular sign is left in his hands. He puts a knee in the middle of it and pulls the sides. It cracks on the center line. He takes the two pieces and hurls them out to sea like Frisbees. They disappear into the darkness. Seconds later they splash down in the water. I watch silently, knuckles pressed to my lip, stunned but delighted.