We cancel the wedding cruise.
We don’t have that kind of money right now.
The other producers have sued Blitz for breaking his contract. His assets are currently frozen.
We have to live on what I made on the show.
It’s sort of fun to be the primary breadwinner.
In the outrageous aftermath of Blitz refusing to do the wedding, Duke and Giselle are spotted together. Duke all but admits they sent out the tweet about her to expose what a jerk Blitz is.
“I couldn’t have him ruining my sweet Giselle’s life,” Duke says.
Of course, they sell their story to the tabloids and are working out a book deal.
Meanwhile, Blitz and I try to plan how to live under the shadow of a lawsuit that will drag out for years.
I’ve signed up for another traveling ballet company. Blitz is negotiating DVD rights again. The last DVD did pretty well, and he thinks he can get more money for this one.
Enough to live on.
We still have our talents. Our famous names. We will get by.
One TV show can’t crush us.
As for the wedding, our new plan has turned out even better than the original. Why have a fancy TV show special, or even an exclusive private cruise, when you can have everyone you love?
With a new ballet starting in a few weeks, we decide to go with a quick, easy-to-plan wedding before I go on tour.
And it’s perfect.
I wait in the Dance of the Shades studio at Dreamcatcher Academy. My mother has just fastened the dozens of buttons going up the back of my gown.
It’s not a designer. Not one-of-a-kind. But it was made just for me. By her.
Sheets cover the windows looking into the room from the hallway, so no one can peek before they’re supposed to. Blitz mainly. He’s been wandering the halls from what I hear, trying to make his way in. Crazy boy.
Mindy dashes in, her pink dress flirting with her calves. She looks prim and sweet, her dark hair pinned up, bits of baby’s breath wound through it.
“The photographer is coming in a second,” she says. “She says not to finish buttoning it until she’s here.”
Mom puts her hands on her hips. “I just finished it!”
“She’ll probably just pose you like you’re doing it,” I say. “Don’t worry.” I want to tell her, this is the right level of drama. Buttons done too early.
My level of drama.
Mom arranges my curls around my shoulders. “It’s not quite right,” she says. “I’m afraid I’m hopeless with hair.”
“Ooh!” Mindy says. “I’ll be right back!” She hurries out again.
Mom shakes her head. “She’s completely aflutter over that cowboy.”
“Have her parents met him yet?” I ask.
“Sure. They spotted them together at the horse lessons, oh, about three months ago.”
“She kept it hidden all this time?”
“Apparently.”
“Did they flip?”
Mom sticks a bobby pin in her mouth, moving another section of my hair off my face. “Totally.”
“I’m glad you’re talking to them again,” I say.
“It’s good to be able to get the boys together.”
Mindy returns. “I have a solution!” she says.
She turns and waves somebody inside.
It’s Cecilia! Her spiky hair is tipped in yellow now.
“What are you doing here!” I gasp.
“Saving your everlovin’ hair,” she says. “Jessie said you had plenty of seats open and we ought to fly down if we could.”
“We? Who else is here?”
“Just a few of us. Kendra. Shelly. Barry Winston came.”
“Barry’s here? Without cameras?”
“He’s talking to the JP. I think he wants to host.” Cecilia laughs. “Mama, you take a load off. You are mother of the bride, and we’ll pamper your princess.”
Mom hands the brush to Cecilia. “You’re from the show, I take it?”
“She did my hair for all the episodes,” I say.
Mindy looks like she could burst with happiness that she helped.
The photographer rushes in. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re still getting ready.” She starts firing shots right away.
“What’s got you in a tizzy?” Cecilia asks.
She lowers the camera. “Blitz had some rather unusual ideas for the groomsmen.”
“Who’d he get?” Cecilia asks, quickly working over my hair. “Please say Chris Hemsworth. Or the Rock. Lord, have mercy if he got the Rock.”
I laugh. “Nobody like that. We’re reality show has-beens now.”
“Hardly,” the photographer says. “I already had six offers for any shots I was willing to sell. Everybody wants to see the wedding that never was.”
Cecilia shakes her head. “That ‘never was’ is obviously happening now. I never will understand why those entertainment shows want to put a nasty spin on everything.”
The door opens again, and the Dreamcatcher staff, Suze, Janel, Betsy and Aurora, walk in.
“Don’t let him see!” Suze shouts with a laugh.
They slam the door with an eruption of giggles.
“Blitz?” I ask.
“That boy is desperate to get a peek at you,” Suze says.
“He’s gonna have to wait like everybody else,” Cecilia says.
I can feel my hair sliding into place. Cecilia is working her magic.
“You look amazing,” Aurora says. “We’re running a little late, though.”
The door opens again.
“Don’t let Blitz in!” Suze cries out.
But it’s Gwen.
“He’s gone,” she says. Her face is more serious than the others. She catches sight of me and gives a little nod. “Thought you’d want your flower girls.”
“Yes!” I say.
The bridesmaids monitor the door to make sure Blitz isn’t too close by.
My eyes tear up as they roll in. Daisy. Marissa. And of course, Gabriella.
The spokes of their wheelchairs are interlaced with ribbon. Their pink dresses spill over their arm rests.
“That one is the spitting image of you,” Cecilia says, gesturing to Gabriella.
I freeze, but Cecilia points to Gwen, not me. “Same hairstyle. Looks good on you both.”
Mom and I catch glances and smile. Gwen touches her hair. She has a headband braid, same as Gabriella. “Gabby insisted,” she says.
“Cute,” Cecilia says. “Okay, we’re done. Ready for this wedding march?”
Flashes go off as the photographer takes shots of me with the dance teachers and Mindy, me and the ballerinas, and me with Mom. Cecilia heads back to her seat.
Finally, Gwen leads the girls out to head to the recital hall. Mindy and the other bridesmaids follow.
It’s just me and Mom.
“Did you change your mind about your father giving you away?” Mom asks.
“Is he even here?” I ask.
“He’s sitting with your brother.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
Dad still only rarely speaks to me, although he no longer gives my mother any grief for coming to visit me. He didn’t come to the rehearsal dinner or any of the other events leading up to the wedding.
“I understand,” she says. “Let’s catch up with the others.”
We head into the hall. The florist is still handing the bouquets to all the girls as they enter the main lobby.
“Everyone inside?” Mom asks as we approach.
Suze nods. “Everybody is seated.”
We cross the lobby. It’s beautifully decked with flowers and an ice sculpture of Blitz and I dancing, all a gift from Danika, the owner of the academy.
Off to one side, a table with the wedding cake waits, surrounded by rented crystal plates and glasses.
An ordinary reception for two regular people.
Our bodyguard Ted sees us and opens the back door to the recital hall.
Andy rushes up the aisle and out the door to us. “Livia! It’s so boring in there!”
I laugh. “Weddings are a little bit dull.”
“We’ve been waiting forever!” He tugs at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen the little tie.
“Walk me to my seat, young man,” Mom says. “And we can get this started.”
“Finally!” Andy says. “I’m ready for cake!” He tries to crane his head around to get another look at it in the lobby.
“Come along,” Mom says.
The two of them head up the aisle to sit in the front row. I catch a glimpse of the back of my father’s head. So, he is here.
I’m not going to change my mind. He never earned the right to give me away.
“Ready?” Ted asks Marissa, who has lined up first in the procession of wheelchair ballerinas.
“Ready!” she says.
He holds the doors for her. She rolls forward, then Daisy, and then Gabriella. Gwen follows and situates them near the stage, then finds her own seat.
The bridesmaids start their walk. Janel, who teaches the wheelchair ballerinas with me. Betsy, my own ballet teacher. Suze, who works the front desk. Aurora, who teaches the toddlers. And finally Mindy, my own best friend.
No models. No professionals. No contestants. Just real people.
The photographer snaps shots of each woman. I imagine what my other wedding might have been. Video rigs and directors, makeup artists, and stylists.
All wrong.
This is all I ever wanted.
Finally, it’s just me in the back. Ted holds the door.
“You look great,” he says. “You’re really walking on your own?”
I nod and step into the doorway. I don’t have a train, so there is nothing to arrange. Just a lovely long dress with a million buttons, satin and a slim fit. And a hairdo fit for a queen. I touch it, the crown of braids at the top, the fall of curls at the bottom. It’s a lot like how it looked that first time I saw Blitz Craven right here at the dance academy.
Up on the platform, Blitz comes out in his black tuxedo. Everyone murmurs as he stands there, looking out, and catches sight of me. His smile is pure Blitz, that charismatic, perfect combination of sexy and charm.
Then his brother Dante steps out, and the murmurs grow a little louder. Dante is the spitting image of his brother, but with a rogue-like, devilish quality.
Yeah, he’s got a face for television. I glance at the bridesmaids to see their reaction. I think Suze is going to melt.
Beside Dante is Blitz’s dad. Then Jacob, our friend here at Dreamcatcher. He was one of the first people who ever knew about us. He kept the secret.
“I guess I should get up there,” Ted says. “You all right?”
I nod. “Go on.”
Ted dashes behind the back row and comes up the side. He waves to Andy, who leaves my mom and heads up the steps to finish out the groomsmen.
The music grows louder, a four-piece stringed group playing from the far right of the stage. The Justice of the Peace comes out in his black suit and motions for everyone to stand.
It’s time for me to walk into the next phase of my life.
It’s hard to remember that I was once a girl who was hidden from the world, who knew nothing, who was scared of her own shadow.
The girl who believed she had no right to ask for anything.
My life has come full circle. The bright lights are gone. The fans. The spectacle. I’m back at the dance academy that first gave me my taste of freedom.
But now I live on my terms. Nobody tells me what to think, where to go, how to be. I make my own choices. I have become the person I want to be.
I have chosen this life, my dance, and my husband.
It’s time to live it.
And so, I take my first step.