The last thing Eddie expected to do when he showed up at the bridal salon that afternoon was to cause a sensation.

He had too much on his mind to really take notice of the female attention he was receiving, much less let it go to his head. He was a father and a fiancé now; the old Eddie need not apply.

Still, it had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to recognize what everybody else was looking at. He arrived before Margot, and promptly introduced himself to the consultant he had spoken with over the phone. Zelma was a slender woman, maybe forty, with intelligent blue eyes framed by glasses; she didn't seem one to suffer nonsense, a type that usually steered clear of Eddie, but she had let her hand linger in Eddie's for longer than was expressly necessary to complete a handshake. All the other female employees of the salon, too, had taken turns indiscreetly peeking out from the front desk and around the door of the breakroom as Eddie followed Zelma through a head-spinning wonderland of glistening white fabric.

His head had yet to stop spinning since that fateful night with Margot.

"We will stick to the muumuus, then," Zelma was saying. "If what you say is true, and your bride will be showing by the time you walk her down the aisle.

Eddie nodded gratefully. He was glad he had thought to mention it. That was one less thing Margot would have to worry about; he had already narrowed their choices and expedited the process.

"And over here, you'll find we have a gorgeous selection of sheer nighties for the bride-to-be...forgive me for presuming, but I thought I would give you a brief tour before she arrives, in case you wanted to surprise her on your wedding night."

"Good thinking," Eddie said. His eyes lingered on the tantalizing array before him, and he reached out to finger the nearest number and see for himself just how translucent the fabric was when paired with human skin. He hadn't even thought about the wedding night.

"If your fiancé doesn't show…" One of the salon girls surprised him by appearing to volunteer her services. Eddie turned to her and arched an eyebrow; two other female employees half-hidden behind an open fitting room door giggled and receded as if they were working. He wondered if he had inadvertently become the subject of a dare.

Evidently his consultant wondered also. "You. Take these to the other room." Zelma unloaded what must have been five different wedding dresses into the girl's arms. "And shoo." She spoke with a tart accent he didn't recognize, but he thought she might be German. Then again, maybe it was only the tone of reprimand that made him think so.

The fitting room was unrecognizable by the time he returned to it. There were dresses piled everywhere, hanging off of doors and partitions, and it appeared that extra mannequins had been hauled in from the back and draped in wedding finery. It looked like a snowstorm had blown through and deposited an avalanche. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and contemplated voicing concern; Zelma noticed, and simply shook her head.

"I assure you, Mr. Jameson, it is a normal amount. Can I get you a Perrier?"

"Sure," Eddie said. He thought Zelma was probably also looking for an excuse to chastise her employees, but waved her off to let her know he would survive a minute without her. He felt momentarily relieved to be left alone...before realizing that he wasn't supposed to be doing this alone. He couldn't do any of the actual trying-on—although that would certainly expedite the process at this point.

"Come on, Margot." Eddie checked his watch again. Margot was late, and he was getting antsy. He hadn't planned for the possibility that she might be a no-show, but now the dread was creeping up on him. Margot was usually so on top of things, but lately she seemed off her game. Eddie liked to think he understood completely—and that the new role he inhabited in her life enabled him to pick up the slack—but what if Margot's distraction came from a place he hadn't anticipated? What if she was already getting cold feet?

If Margot backed out of the engagement, then he would be the one responsible for losing the Daley account. Eddie had done some snooping—which mainly involved calling up Trinity and asking for info he hadn't kept up with during his prodigal years abroad—and had confirmed his suspicion that Daley Flights was currently the agency's biggest client. They had maintained the number one spot for almost all his years of existence. Sam of all people had tried to downplay it the other night, as if Eddie could genuinely afford to lose them Jonathan Daley's business.

Panic was setting in. He could feel it crawling up his throat; he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd accidentally shout in primal dismay, or worse, call the whole thing off. Eddie swallowed the sensation back down quickly, and smoothed a thumb across one eyebrow. He was perfectly in control.

"Eddie?"

It was her voice. His bride-to-be. Suddenly, Eddie didn't need to establish appearances or coping mechanisms; a feeling of instant relief washed over him, and he turned with his arms already spread to greet Margot.

"Your kingdom, my queen."

Margot snorted. She was wearing a short red sleeveless dress, and there was a black belt cinched around her waist. Her beautiful long legs extended downward to a pair of matching heels. She balanced a small purse on her shoulder, and the hand clenched over the strap wore his ring. His heart jolted at the sight. He still wasn't used to seeing it there, nestled between her pinky and middle finger.

"Hey, relax. I already did most of the hard part for you." Eddie stepped to her and pulled her hand free, sealing it between both of his. "White-knuckle that purse any more and you'll turn that diamond ring into a lump of coal."

Margot compressed her lips and gave a little laugh through her nose. "I knew you flunked geology, Eddie. I just didn't realize you flunked it that badly."

He watched her take in the array of dresses. He waited, half-expectant, for the inkling of a smile.

When it never came, he realized suddenly that this may have been a bad idea.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to inundate you with e-mails all week," he said as he led her deeper into the dressing room. "I knew blasting your inbox with wedding plans was probably a risky maneuver, but…"

I wanted you to feel like I was taking charge. Not exactly something he could openly admit to a girl like Margot. She was fiercely independent, what he had once heard his father call a 'ball-buster', and that had been when they were six. He had to mold himself into the right man for her without too obviously letting onto the fact.

Easier said than done.

"No. I...really appreciate your maneuver, Eddie. All of your maneuvers." Margot waved to the dresses scattered around the room. Zelma chose that moment to return, and momentarily spared Eddie from trying to unpack the meaning behind Margot's words.

"Beautiful bride," Zelma said approvingly. She passed them both a bottle of mineral water and gestured toward the dresses. "Shall we get started?"

"Might as well make a dent," Eddie agreed as he sat down. He was suddenly too nervous to twist the top off his water, much less take a drink. "Margot?"

"I'm on it." She grinned and gave him a game thumbs-up. The feeling of ease that just having her around returned to him, and Eddie laughed. Zelma didn't appear to appreciate them making light of her mountainous piles of dresses, but the consultant only thinned her lips and nodded. She selected one off the top and accompanied Margot behind the fitting room screen.

An hour later, and their spirits were starting to dwindle. Eddie kept an encouraging smile plastered to his face as Margot reappeared in—was this dress five? Ten?—a monstrous white ensemble, looking for all the world like a deflated balloon. As the consultant bent to study something around the hem of the sequined skirt, Margot's wild eyes sought and found his. She mouthed something that looked like a plea for help; she clamped her teeth shut once more as Zelma rose. Her smile for the consultant looked excruciatingly painful.

"These muumuu-style dresses are very beautiful," Zelma said as Margot made a first, second, and third pass before the mirrors. "So girlish. So modest."

So not Margot, Eddie felt like volunteering. He watched her turn repeatedly; to the outside observer, it looked like she was desperately hunting for an angle she found flattering. He would never admit it out loud with their consultant in the room, but the dresses so far all looked awful hanging off Margot's slender frame. She might as well be trying on an assortment of high-end trash bags.

"It's…" Margot fished for a word and came up short.

Eddie turned to their consultant. "Zelma? Can we have a minute?"

Zelma nodded. "Of course. I will be just outside the door if you need anything."

As soon as she had vanished from view, Eddie rose and crossed to Margot. Now that the consultant was out of the room, Margot's proud posture deteriorated to a slump. Eddie put his arm around her bowed shoulders, and turned her face away from the mirrors with a gentle finger guiding her chin.

"Margot," he whispered, "you can talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." He hated seeing her like this. Was it the baby? The wedding? Was it him? He dreaded hearing any or all of the above, but he'd rather she plunge the whole handful of emotional knives through his heart than hold back at this point. He would rather take on the pain than see her crestfallen look now.

"It's just that...I had sort of envisioned wearing something different on the big day," she admitted. "These dresses are wonderful, Eddie. Really. But you know better than anyone how I used to drag you into playing out all my wedding fantasies when we were kids. I thought I grew out of them, but…" She shook her head. "God, I remember how much space it used to occupy in my little brain. I had oodles of drawings describing how I thought my dress would look. And these…"

"Are hideous," Eddie supplied.

Margot nodded gratefully and chuckled.

"I should have known better," he said. "I wouldn't have let any of these—what did she call them, muumuus?—near you. Wait right here." He pulled his arm from her shoulders and went to relay this latest information to Zelma in the hallway. After a thoughtful moment, the consultant nodded and disappeared back inside the store. Moments later, she returned with an armful of dress that, to Eddie, looked identical to all the others. When he opened his mouth to protest, Zelma shook her head.

"Wait," she advised him. She passed the dress off to Margot; the latter shot Eddie a desperate look. Surely Zelma's selection had come too easily to be correct. Eddie just shrugged and sat down. As much as he tried to help, he knew he was ultimately useless when it came to this sort of thing. He was willing to try just about anything at this point if it meant putting a smile back on Margot's face.

Moments later, when Margot stepped from behind the partition, he lurched back out of his seat.

"Margot!" Eddie blinked, and his eyes raked her figure. After all the previous failures, he hadn't expected to be dazzled by the vision of her in the dress, but this...this was something else.

Margot laced her hands together in front of herself and grinned. The gown she wore was so pristinely white its shadows held an almost blue edge. The slightest tilt of her body caused the sequins of the embroidered bodice to catch the light and cast resplendent, dancing motes upon the wall. The heart-shaped top of the bodice perfectly cradled her breasts, while also pushing them proudly forward; the deep valley of her cleavage made his pulse triple, and he quickly raised his eyes to take in the rest of her. Without sleeves, Margot's sun-kissed shoulders and elegant bare arms were on full display. This gown may have been tighter than all the others, but it allowed her to move and breathe in a way he hadn't seen all afternoon. Margot looked at home; the dress looked as if it had been made for her.

"Well?" Her thickly-lashed hazel eyes looked bigger than usual; they looked hopeful. Expectant. Somewhere behind him, Zelma gave a low whistle.

"Margot, I…" He had no words. He was struck dumb by the sight of her. All he could do was reach forward, and offer her his hand to help her up onto the platform at the center of all the mirrors. Margot rose to the occasion and stared at herself. She looked as if she didn't recognize her own face in the mirror. No, Eddie thought. That isn't right. It's the girl who always played wedding finally meeting the bride.

"...I wanted to say you look like an angel," he continued after a long moment. "But that isn't a satisfactory comparison. You look like Heaven, Margot."

Her eyes glistened, and she glanced down quickly to smooth her hands along the bodice. When she had composed herself, she sighed. "It really was a nice fantasy, Eddie...but you know I won't fit in this by the time our wedding day arrives." She turned to him and smiled sadly. "Thanks for making all my childhood daydreams a reality, even for a moment."

Her certainty was almost enough to break his heart on the spot. Eddie wanted to leap up; he wanted to explain her father's ultimatum; he wanted to take his beautiful bride-to-be in his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to tell her they could still seize the fantasy and make the big day completely their own despite all the outside pressures that had started the ball rolling in the first place.

But he knew that he couldn't bring the truth into it now. The moment Margot realized this wedding wasn't his idea was the moment she confirmed for herself that he wasn't in control. He wanted her to think he had arrived at the idea to propose on his own. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was the right thing to do, and that it was the thing he wanted to do. So did it really make a difference whose idea it was?

Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn't, a nagging voice whispered in the back of his brain. But maybe what matters most is that your white wedding is about to be founded on a little white lie of omission.

"Margot." Eddie stepped to the pedestal she stood atop, allowing his hands to alight on her curves. The dress she wore felt as good as it looked; the bodice hugged her trim waist and practically trumpeted the existence of her womanly dips and swells. He skimmed his fingers up towards her ribcage. Margot hummed with appreciation, sounding a little like a cat on the receiving end of a familiar caress. The noise made Eddie want to banish Zelma from the room, and undo all of Margot's hard work trying on dresses by completely stripping her of clothing. Whatever she thought of the body that lay beneath her dress, he could conceive of a dozen ways to show her his appreciation for it.

"Yes, Eddie?" Her breath caught a little as he smoothed his fingers down the fabric of her skirt.

"We don't have to wait to get married," he stated. "We can get married two months from now. Hell, we can get married next month."

"Are you serious?" Her eyebrows shot up. "You don't think that's too soon?"

Your father certainly doesn't. "Why not?" he asked instead. "You can wear the dress of your dreams. You can have the wedding of your dreams."

"It's too fast," Margot replied dubiously. "Even two months is…"

"Just leave all the planning to me," he jumped in quickly. "I want your input, of course, to make sure I'm on the right track. But the timing...and all the technical stuff...I want you to let me be the one to worry about it."

Margot's hand caught his and closed over it. She was white-knuckling again. Eddie sensed that she was waging an internal battle, but over what? Was she having trouble letting go of all the responsibility that usually fell to her—and could he really blame her for feeling nervous letting him take the lead on this one? He didn't have the best reputation when it came to planning, much less execution.

Or did Margot's hesitance stem from something else?

"Go with the flow," he heard her breathe to herself. She relaxed her grip on his hand, but Eddie squeezed her fingers before she could release him. "All right, Eddie. If you think it's doable...and if you think it's a good idea…"

"I think it's a good idea you wear that dress," Eddie said. "You look hot as hell, Margie. You might burn the church down by accident."

It was the right thing to say. "You think so?" she laughed. She practically melted into his hands, and Eddie couldn't restrain himself any longer. He pulled her down off the pedestal and in against his chest; after a moment, he let her slide slowly to the floor. He was enjoying the feel of her in his arms a little too much, and found that now that he had her, he had no immediate plans to let her go. Zelma cleared her throat and turned her back to allow them a bit of privacy.

"Thanks, Eddie." Margot's beautiful face beamed up at him, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. When she raised herself up on her toes, he knew he was in danger of never relearning. She touched his face tenderly, then canted her head and leaned in.

Margot's kiss was completely unexpected. Her lips grazed his, and he gave a startled, sharp intake of breath; before he could voice his surprise, or do something equally idiotic to ruin the moment, she pressed in closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel the line of her smile, and the way her lips still pouted generously enough to meet with his. His hands found her waist, and he yanked her in roughly against him. Minutes ago, a part of him had been afraid of letting his need show; now, he wanted Margot to feel exactly what seeing her in that dress had done to him. His cock stirred to life beneath his belt, and her tongue flicked past her lips to give his own tongue a playful taste.

She pulled back before he could lose his senses completely. Now it was Eddie's turn to clear his throat and turn away as Margot addressed Zelma.

"I really feel as if I could inspire a standing ovation in this dress." She dropped a wink as Eddie coughed. "I think we'll take it."