Misadventures of a Backup Bride

  “You’re nervous as hell,” she corrects, taking me apart with her gaze. “I’ll tell you something… I’ve been doing this for ten years. I can usually tell within the first hour of meeting a couple whether they’re going to stay married or not. I knew Carson and Kendra were doomed. In fact, I told my boyfriend they wouldn’t make it until their wedding day. I was not surprised when Mr. Shaw told me there would be a change in bride for this ceremony. The first time I saw you with Carson, I knew your love would last. I see a lot of brides and grooms who are just infatuated, but you two have that certain something. It’s right. I can feel that you’re in love. So don’t be nervous. You two will have a great life together. Now go be happy.”

  When she eases into the ballroom, I wonder if that’s a preplanned speech designed to nudge hesitant brides into taking their walk down the aisle. I have to admit, it’s pretty effective. On some level, I believe what she’s saying. I don’t doubt that I love Carson or that he loves me. But I’m not sure we’ll withstand the long test of time—the years that lead to decades, children, jobs, stress, mortgages, and whatever else life has in store. How well do we really know each other? I’m not sure I’m secure enough in his feelings to take a leap and risk being left behind.

  I cringe. I sound like a scared little girl. I hear the whine in my own head. I still think like the nine-year-old girl whose mother pressed a house key into her palm and told her to walk her sisters home from school. To make sure they got something to eat because she was working late and Dad was out of town on a job. I did everything she asked. I helped Eryn and Echo take baths and I tucked them into bed. Then I fell asleep on the sofa waiting for my mother. I woke up the next morning with a crick in my neck and found my mother slumbering in her own bed. She hadn’t bothered to wake me up to put me in mine or even tell me she was home.

  That scenario repeated itself over and over until we all got used to fending for ourselves. Being further down on my parents’ priority list shouldn’t matter now that I’m an adult. It shouldn’t affect my romantic relationships. It does. I don’t trust people, and I’ve sometimes looked for anything that resembled love without considering the quality of the man. But this time, it feels as if he’s the real deal.

  Still without knowing what I’m going to do, I step up behind my sisters, holding my bouquet in a trembling grip.

  Suddenly, Vasha opens one of the doors and motions Echo inside. It’s Eryn’s turn next, and she cups my shoulder, silently telling me to do what’s in my heart, before she disappears into the ballroom, too. Then I’m standing alone in the hallway, hearing the faint strains of classical music through the wood and shaking so hard I can barely stand upright on my heels. I think of the six times Carson tried to call me today…and the six times I didn’t answer. What would he have said if I’d picked up? Would it have made any difference? Would I be less confused now if I had?

  When the double doors open again, the wedding planner motions me in, her expression soft with understanding. “Carson is nervous, too. Take a deep breath. Enjoy your wedding day.”

  “Sure.” I nod absently.

  “Look on the bright side. I don’t feel compelled to give you the speech I give lots of other brides that marriage doesn’t have to be permanent, and I know the names of great attorneys…”

  She’s right—in theory. But I’d rather be scared and single than bitter and divorced.

  Great attitude, El.

  The music chimes five times, then swells. Hundreds of faces I don’t even know stand and rise and turn to watch me walk toward an uncertain fate.

  I’m stuck on the threshold, unable to take a single step. I definitely don’t know if I can make it all the way up the aisle, only to runaway-bride it back down. I haven’t even moved and I see expressions ranging from curiosity to judgment on the guests’ faces.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Then I spot Carson at the altar, standing under an arch of white flowers, looking extremely handsome in his tuxedo. I see the tension on his face, the need. Just the sight of him wills me closer, gives me the courage to put one foot in front of the other and start my way between the makeshift rows of white folding chairs with their elegant black bows decorating each back.

  I’m dizzy and everything feels surreal as I waltz my way forward. Thirty feet from the altar, then twenty, then ten… On my right, someone clears his throat. I turn my head and spot Gregory Shaw looking at me with a dare in his eyes. He doesn’t think I’ll go through with this. His smirk says I’d be stupid not to, but my loss is his gain. Is the man just waiting to pounce on Carson? Salivating to steal another chunk of Sweet Darlin’ from my man? I don’t want to let him win.

  Beside Shaw, Kendra and her new husband clutch hands, giving each other a secretive smile. Then her soldier turns to look at the front again, expression stoic. Carson’s former fiancée turns her blue eyes on me and gives me an encouraging smile, a silent nudge that I can do this.

  God, I’m even more confused now. What’s the right decision?

  With the music filling my ears, I turn my attention back to Carson. He’s waiting for me, willing me toward him. I don’t want to risk him leaving me…but how will he feel if I run out on him? Once, that’s what we’d schemed. But now I think he’d feel terrible. Awful. Brokenhearted. All the things I’m desperate to avoid.

  Five feet from the altar, I stop, frozen. No matter what I do, I’m risking someone’s pain and disappointment and suffering. I don’t want to mock marriage or lie through wedding vows when our parting may come much sooner than death. But I also can’t imagine never seeing Carson again, never kissing him, never feeling my heart against his.

  Behind me, I hear the rising murmur of the crowd. They’re beginning to talk. They’re wondering why I won’t go the last yard and a half to my groom’s side and speak my vows. They’re speculating I have cold feet. They’re whispering that this last-minute change of brides was hinky and how sad it is that Carson’s first fiancée deserted him and now it looks as if the second might as well.

  I close my eyes. I have mere seconds to decide. And I’m lost.

  Until I feel warm, solid hands wrap around mine.

  With a little gasp, I open my eyes to find Carson cupping my fingers, which are still clutching the bouquet. The moment our eyes meet, I see his heart. And I see my future. Despite the odds, sacrifices, and hardships ahead, I want to marry this man. I love him, the new house he bought, my new job, and the family we’ll someday make. I will miss my sisters, but they’re grown. They’ll move on. Hell, they already have. And the devotion this man has given me in the last seventeen days is more important—and fulfilling—than any public adoration I might have received if I’d ever made it big as an actress. An Oscar won’t fill the hole in my heart the way he does. I’ve barely thought about that—or my diet—in the last week. And I’ve been happier than ever.

  With Carson Frost is where I belong.

  “I love you and I want to marry you,” he whispers.

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “Now I’m proving it.” He withdraws a piece of paper from the pocket inside his tuxedo jacket and hands it to me.

  Around me, the strings are still playing, their hopeful notes swelling in my ears. The guests are now muttering amongst themselves in less-than-hushed tones. Vasha is staring at us from across the room, just outside the altar, scowling at our exchange.

  I scan the document. It’s simple but looks official enough. I read the text…but the meaning isn’t sinking in. This can’t be right. “You and Shaw made an agreement that if I walk away now, he gets the five percent you agreed to in exchange for the loan?”

  “Yes. But if I ever leave you, divorce you, cheat on you, or otherwise make you unhappy for the next twenty years, he gets Sweet Darlin’, free and clear. I leave with nothing.”

  “H-How?” With this agreement, obviously. That’s not the right question. “Why?”

  “I confessed our entire scheme to him this morning and then I
signed that paper for you. Eryn explained your parents to me. I want you to know I’m never leaving. I will be with you and here for you every single day, forever.”

  The enormity of what he’s done to prove his love and devotion to me sends shockwaves through my body. My eyes water. My hands begin to shake even more. I stare at the man I love, and I’m more sure than ever what I should do.

  Crowd be damned, I throw my arms around him, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him as if I’m beginning the rest of my life. Because I’m pretty damn sure I am.

  “Um, you two… We haven’t come to that part of the ceremony yet,” Sam quips.

  The guests laugh. I turn to my sisters and find them grinning widely, joy all over their faces.

  I beam back at them and take my fiancé’s arm. Together, we walk the last few steps to the altar and join our lives.

  The ceremony is a blur of words and faces. I’m glad the photographer and videographer are capturing everything because it’s all spinning by—except when we speak our vows. That moment I look into Carson’s eyes, time slows and I know we’re going to be ecstatically happy together.

  And I wish like hell we’d planned a honeymoon now. I saw an internet ad for this great new bed and breakfast right on the coast of Maui that sounds amazing. Maybe I’ll bring it up to Carson once we get settled in the new house.

  We slide rings on each other’s fingers and the minister says a few more words before pronouncing us man and wife. When we kiss officially for the first time as a married couple, I feel joy speed through my body, ooze out my pores, saturate every moment between us.

  We may have started with a fake relationship for all the wrong reasons, but what Carson and I have now is so real.

  Suddenly, the guests clap. The minister introduces us as Mr. and Mrs. We run down the aisle together, hand in hand, to start our glorious new future.

  I’m still grinning nonstop and loath to leave Carson’s side as we sign our marriage license, take photos, and greet everyone who comes through the reception line. By the end of the night, my feet ache from standing and my cheeks hurt from smiling—and I’m still the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m now Ella Frost, married to a man who genuinely loves and understands me, working for a great charitable organization, living in a new city I can’t wait to make my own, on the precipice of a future richer and more loving than I ever imagined.

  We dance and eat dinner, slice cake and toast. The cocoon of sublime happiness is almost more than I know how to process, but I’m doing my best to bask in every moment so I can remember it for the rest of my life.

  The deejay blasts a romantic ballad over the speakers. My husband claims me for another dance now that the crowd has begun to thin out. “Can I tell you how happy I am that you said yes, Mrs. Frost? I’m also glad I listened to Eryn this morning and followed my instinct to call Shaw. I knew I needed to convince you and—”

  “I was already convinced,” I murmur.

  “You were?” Surprise widens his eyes. “You were going to marry me even before I told you about my deal with Shaw?”

  I nod. “I’d decided I would take a leap of faith about five seconds before you told me what you’d agreed to. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it was a beautiful gesture. And it definitely sealed the deal. It gives a lot of comfort to know we’re married and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  When I wink, he laughs. “Not a damn thing.”

  “It also gives me tons of power. Now I can torment you in bed all I want.”

  “You can. In fact, I dare you. It will be my job to make you burn right back. And to love you with my whole heart because I intend to keep you sublimely happy, wife.”

  “I’m looking forward to that, husband.” I brush soft fingertips across the back of his neck, just above his collar. “I’ll give you equal bliss.”

  “Hmm. I can’t wait. I’m definitely ready to get out of here and make love for the first time as husband and wife.”

  I want that, too. I look around to gauge crowd size, see if we can make our exit without making too many chins wag.

  Instead, I see Gregory Shaw saunter over and tap Carson on the shoulder.

  “You cutting in?” he asks the older man.

  “No. I’m heading out…after I come clean.” He glances across the room, where Kendra and Brayden are kissing quietly in a dark corner, obviously more than happy with their decision to elope.

  I wonder what Carson’s rival is talking about. Come clean?

  “What do you mean?” my new husband asks.

  Gregory Shaw sighs. “I haven’t told Kendra yet. That’s next on my agenda. On Tuesday I’m having surgery. The doctors think I have a benign brain tumor, but they won’t know for certain until they remove it and send it to pathology for study. It’s a risky surgery. I may not make it out. If I do, there’s a possibility I’ll never be the same again.” He lets out another breath, as if admitting all that was hard.

  I’m staring at him, utterly stunned. He looks so robust, still in the prime of his life.

  Carson looks dumbfounded, too. “I had no idea. I didn’t—”

  “No one did, by design.” Shaw jerks his head. “I wanted to keep it that way while I found someone who could run Dulce Lama in the event I didn’t recover. I was hoping that someone would be Kendra’s husband, but when you got cold feet…things got out of hand. But you were still my best candidate. I simply needed to test you, see if you could handle adversity and would fight for what you desired and believed in. Today, you proved to me exactly who you are. This is yours.”

  Carson takes the document Shaw offers with his proffered hand and unfolds it. “A power of attorney?”

  “Yes. You’ll take charge of Dulce Lama until I’m capable of returning. If I don’t…the company is yours.”

  “You’re signing it over if you can’t serve as its CEO? Outright?” Carson looks astounded as he clutches the papers in his hand. “To me?”

  Gregory Shaw nods. “With a few stipulations. I’ve reserved twenty-five percent of the annual profits for Kendra for the rest of her life. I’d like another ten percent to go to a charitable foundation that studies brain tumors. It’s outlined in the document. The rest is yours to do with as you see fit.” Then he gives us his signature smirk. “Of course, that’s if I never make it back. But you should know, I’m planning to be behind my desk, giving you hell in the marketplace, in six to eight weeks. The competition is good for you.”

  Finally, Carson smiles. “You’re right. I’ll hold down your fort until then. Whatever you, Kendra, or Brayden need during this difficult time—or ever—all you have to do is ask. Today, you were like the father figure I no longer have. I appreciated the ear and the sage advice.”

  “And you were like the second kid I’m glad my wife never birthed,” he jokes for a moment as we guffaw and chuckle. Then he sobers again. “I’m glad you’re happy and that everyone got exactly what they wanted out of this situation. Good luck…son.” Then he turns to me. “How about you, pretty lady? How does it feel to be staying here, married to this guy? I’ll bet when he hired you to be his girlfriend, you never imagined you’d end up his wife.”

  “Never.” I laugh. “Even though I’ve been an actress and I’ve played a lot of characters, I couldn’t have conceived of a better ending, and I’ll always relish the role of Carson’s bride. I expect it to last a lifetime.”

  Gregory Shaw shakes my husband’s hand and wraps me in a fatherly embrace before he excuses himself with a polite goodbye.

  A few minutes later, Carson and I dash out of the reception to the sounds of cheers, party horns, and catcalls. I hug each of my sisters on my way to the waiting car. Carson pumps each of his groomsmen’s hands in thanks before he clasps mine again. Then we sprint into our waiting limousine and drive off to start the best future ever.

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