Chapter 33

Emma

Max had tailored almost every detail of this day to my fantasy design. The hairstylist already knew what I wanted for my hair, the make-up artist already knew what I wanted for my face, and the only thing that seemed to be missing was the groom. I hadn’t seen Max in over a week. Outside of my dreams, anyway. Part of me kept wondering if this was all another dream, a big cosmic joke that I’d wake up from… back in my little bed in my little apartment that I was going to lose soon because the only job interview I’d managed to score turned out to be fake.

Then I’d reach over and run my fingertips over the dress, and I’d feel how the textures swirled together, just like I knew they would when I looked at the pictures.

Though Max had gotten every detail perfectly right, the one thing I hadn’t planned for my wedding was being rushed. I felt like my hair and make-up were being perfected by forces of nature, not by two women wielding hair spray and blush.

Being rushed ended up being a good thing. At first it was a little overwhelming, but I soon found I didn’t want to wait any longer to see Max. Knowing he was downstairs waiting for me was torture.

“What did he say to you?” I asked Willow, as she inspected her maid of honor dress in the full-length mirror.

A pained expression crossed her face. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything. I know there’s a lot that he wants to tell you and I don’t want to ruin it.”

My heart picked up even faster, something that I hadn’t thought possible.

“Wait.” I put out my hand to stop Megan, the hair stylist, midway through braiding a section of my hair. She moved to the side to allow me to see Willow properly, and I skewered my best friend with my best hard gaze. “He’s not just doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to get me back, is he?”

Willow’s mouth flopped open and my heart sank. I hadn’t considered this possibility until now, because I was so high on the fantasy of my dream wedding, but my dream wedding would be a nightmare if the groom didn’t want to get married at all. And why would Max have a sudden change of heart on one of his key issues?

God no. My stomach surged up my throat and I felt like I was going to puke.

“Calm down, darling,” Paulina purred.

She was back to reclining on the chaise, holding her champagne flute aloft and looking for all intents and purposes like an ancient Greek goddess.

“I can assure you that my son is not a man who would enter into something as serious as a marriage without thinking it through. He just wouldn’t do it.” She took a sip of her drink, smacking her lips dramatically. “I had a similar thought, you know, and I interrogated him. I can assure you his desires are quite genuine in nature.”

This. This was what I needed to hear today.

My heart swelled, and the final piece of my dream wedding—an enthusiastic, loving groom—fell into place.

“Let’s do this.”

It was amazing to think how long I’d been planning the details of this wedding. My Pinterest board was full of ideas for center pieces, chair covers, even place settings. I’d spent hours browsing and organizing for a wedding that I half-expected never to occur.

If it did happen, I figured as I planned, each of these minute details would shine like a beacon to me on the actual day. I would traipse down the aisle feeling accomplished, like I’d done a good job of preparing a slideshow presentation or thrown a good party.

One thing I’d never planned for, never anticipated, was forgetting that any of those details existed, which is exactly what happened to me the moment the doors to the ceremony space swung open to admit me.

It didn’t matter that the roses were the right shade of cream, or that the chairs were perfectly arranged in rows of eight on either side of the aisle. It didn’t matter that Max’s tux had sprigs of baby’s breath in his pocket that matched my bouquet. None of it mattered a lick.

The only thing that mattered wasn’t a thing at all, but a man. He was tall, broad, and had a grin that could disarm a ticking bomb. His eyes were the blue of rolling waves, and every time I looked into them I risked getting lost. And sometimes I hoped I would.

And this man, this beautiful person who had helped lift me out of a funk I’d been swirling in for years, was now waiting for me at the end of the carpeted aisle. And it was our wedding day.

It could have been on a beach in Mexico or in a crappy twenty-four-hour chapel in Vegas. It could have been on the back of a camel somewhere in the middle of the desert. The moment my eyes landed on him I no longer cared where the damn wedding was held or what kind of flowers were in the centerpieces. More than anything, I just wanted Max for the rest of my life.

Everyone stood as I walked through the door. I was surprised to see how many people Max had managed to corral on such short notice. Half of the office was here, as well as a fair few unfamiliar faces who I assumed were Westfield family friends.

What surprised me the most was the two familiar faces from the front row, both staring at me, teary-eyed. My parents. How had Max found my parents?

One of the things that had never featured into my wedding planning was my family. I never intended to have my father walk me down the aisle, and had no dress picked out for the mother of the bride. Max knew that, but he’d invited them here anyway. I wouldn’t have, but now that I was seeing them for the first time in years, I was able to see through all the manipulation and bad feelings. I was grateful they were here. I didn’t know how much longer we could go on like this, with me pretending that the whole state of Illinois didn’t exist and that I’d sprung from the dirt instead of from my mother’s womb.

It was time to forgive them. Maybe not today, but sometime soon. Today was my wedding day, though, and everything between us needed to be cast aside.

“Hey beautiful.”

I was still standing in the doorway, clutching my bouquet in a death grip as I absorbed everything going on around me.

Max was holding a microphone now, his other hand thrust casually in his pants pocket.

“Hey,” I replied weakly.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wasn’t going to miss my own wedding, was I?”

Everyone laughed.

Max’s eyes twinkled. “Before you walk down that aisle and make me the luckiest man in the world, I wanted to say a couple things. I know the speeches are generally after the ceremony, but we’re not exactly doing things by the book here, are we?”

More laughter from the crowd. I giggled. This hadn’t been part of my wedding plan either, but so far I liked it.

“I’m not the kind of guy who connects with people easily,” Max began. “I tend to form very surface level attachments, which is something that has vexed my mother to no end in my lifetime, but never really bothered me. I never thought I’d be standing where I am now based purely on the fact that I didn’t think I could be with anyone long term. I didn’t think I had it in me.”

He smiled, and my belly filled with warmth. His eyes held my gaze while he spoke, and the other people in the room seemed to just fade away.

“Then you came along, Emma. You intrigued me from the moment I first laid eyes on you, from the moment I first talked to you. You challenged me, challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. But I didn’t adapt fast enough and I nearly lost you. I did lose you, I suppose, even though I knew that it would only be temporary, because I would do anything to be with you. So I started planning.” He gestured around him, at the decorations and the guests. “I brought your dream wedding to life. I knew how much the vision in your head meant to you, and I was more than happy to draw it into real life. This wedding is a gift for you, Emma. The woman I love. The woman I would do anything to protect, and who I will cherish for the rest of my life.” He grinned. “And while yes, this wedding is a gift to you, the honor of getting to call you my wife...” His eyes narrowed on mine. “That’s my gift to me. I love you.”

The room erupted into applause. I realized my cheeks were wet with tears and I wiped them away, laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation felt.

“I love you too,” I mouthed over the din. He stared at me, smiling, and handed the microphone back to the officiator. With a flick of his wrist, the band in the corner struck up the Wedding March.

I put one foot in front of the other, closer with every step to the man of my dreams and the life I could have never dreamed I would have.

Things were starting to wind down on the dance floor, with only a few couples left swaying, including my husband and me.

My husband.

Me, Emma Westfield. My husband, Maximilian Augustus Westfield. Together we were the Westfields. I still wasn’t over it, and might never be. Good thing I had the rest of my life left to adjust to the change.

“What’s on your mind,” Max murmured into my ear as we swayed across the dance floor. “You’re being very quiet.”

“I’m just enjoying the moment.” I leaned against his chest, my forehead resting just under his shoulder. I felt so safe in his arms, so secure. Not just physically, either. It was like his scent wrapped me in some unseen barrier that separated me from the rest of the world. When I was with Max, I was free.

“So, how’d I do?” He leaned back and tipped up my chin with his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. His lips were turned up ever-so-slightly because he already knew he’d done an amazing job. Jennifer Lopez had nothing on him when it came to wedding planning.

“It was everything I dreamed it to be, and yet not at all what I pictured,” I replied.

A troubled frown marred his handsome features. “That’s a good thing, right?”

I laughed, “Yes. It’s a good thing…a very good thing.”

He released my chin and folded me back against his chest.

“Good.”

We continued to sway, letting the music carry us around the floor. I never wanted the moment to end. Tonight had been perfect, even if I’d had an unanticipated conversation with my parents that I had to get through. It had gone better than I imagined it would, and for the first time in years I began to think that maybe we could have some sort of relationship going forward. The reception dinner was delicious and fun, with both Willow and Jeremy giving speeches that had me in tears. And now, tired but happy, I was ready for whatever the rest of my life wanted to throw at me.

Max’s chest rumbled and I looked up at him questioningly to find the source of his laughter. His attention was fixed somewhere behind me, and I craned my neck to see what it was.

“They’re getting very cozy,” Max commented lowly.

Jeremy and Willow were dancing at the other end of the floor. Her arms wound around his neck while his circled her waist, and the position was so intimate that I began to wonder if the wedding wasn’t the only thing Willow kept from me these past few weeks.

I turned back to Max and grinned. “When the hell did that happen?”

He shrugged his burly shoulders and spun me. “I don’t know. Crazier things have happened, I suppose.”

“Thank you for today, Max. I don’t know if I’ve said that yet. Or enough.”

“No, babe, thank you.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m just glad I get to keep you forever.”

“I mean it.” I caught his gaze. “You didn’t have to invite my parents or make your mom get ready with me or any of that. I appreciate it.”

His eyes crinkled with warmth. “I’m glad you liked it. I tried to invite Lance, but he didn’t show for some reason.”

I laughed and punched him in the arm. “You scoundrel.”

“Your scoundrel,” he corrected.

And my scoundrel he was and would always be. A scoundrel who wore business suits, but occasionally threw punches, who was completely inappropriate in the workplace, but always seemed to do the right thing.

A scoundrel who stole my heart with an easy smile and a bucketful of innuendo.

My scoundrel.