30. Emma
30
EMMA
" T he flowers are wrong."
I stared at Martha Wellington, who was frowning at the ceremony arch like it had personally offended her. "They're exactly what we ordered."
"They're too... pink."
"They're blush roses. The same ones you approved three times." I forced my voice to stay pleasant. "The same shade as the bridesmaids' dresses."
"Are you sure?" she said, squinting. "They look pinker."
A warm hand settled on my lower back. "Mrs. Wellington," James said smoothly, "I couldn't help but notice they matched your hat perfectly. The way they catch the light really brings out the subtle undertones."
Martha touched her hat—which was, of course, the exact same shade as the roses. "Oh. Yes, I suppose they do."
She wandered off, seemingly mollified, and I sagged against James. "My hero."
"Just doing my part." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Everything looks perfect, by the way. Even if some people are too stressed to see it."
I surveyed the ceremony space. The morning sun caught on the snow-laden trees, making them sparkle. White chairs lined the aisle, each decorated with carefully crafted flower arrangements. The arch stood proud against the mountain backdrop, absolutely drowning in those allegedly-too-pink roses.
The historical weather patterns I’d obsessively studied even held true. It was an unseasonably warm day, meaning everybody was comfortable and happy.
It was exactly as I'd planned. Exactly perfect.
And for once, that wasn't the most important thing.
"Have you seen Lily?" James asked. “Is she doing alright?”
"She is still getting her makeup and hair finished. But she already looks like something straight out of a fairy tale. I kept crying every time I looked at her, so I had to make an excuse to get busy somewhere else.”
“Women,” James said with a small smile. “I saw Marcus in the lobby mingling as people arrived. He seems… lighter. I think the secrets were really weighing on him.”
"Amazing what honesty can do,” I said.
James's fingers traced patterns on my back. "Speaking of which, I feel the need to admit something to you. A secret, if you will.”
My stomach clenched and went cold. “What?” I breathed.
“The acoustics in our shower are amazing, and the walls must be very thin. Because I could hear every word of you whisper-singing in the shower this morning. ‘At Last’ by Etta James? Very romantic choice. I wonder if you were inspired by the wedding today, or…”
I blushed so hard I thought my cheeks might melt. “I always loved that song. My mom used to play it and lip sync with my dad. It was kind of their thing. And… I wasn’t thinking of the wedding today when I was singing. I was thinking of somebody else.”
“Yeah?” James asked, eyes smoldering. “Who?”
“One of those Wellington muscle brothers,” I said, trying very, very hard not to smile.
James took a step closer, swallowing up the distance between us. “Careful, Em. Tease me too hard, and I’ll have to make sure you know exactly who you want. If you think I’ve used every trick in my bag, you’re wrong. I’ve still got plenty more.”
I raised an eyebrow as warmth trickled through my body. “Well, if teasing gets you to unleash your bag of tricks, maybe I should keep it up?”
“Don’t torture me, Em.” He pulled me closer, voice dropping low. "And for the record. I thought your singing was incredibly cute. Especially the part where you changed the lyrics to 'At last, my wrecker has come along.' In other words, muscle brothers my ass. You’ve got it for me. Badly ."
I elbowed him in the ribs, but he just laughed and caught my hands.
"I have to check on the cake," I said, trying to sound stern despite my smile.
"The cake is fine. Chef Antoine’s pastry chef won't let anyone breathe on it wrong, let alone mess it up." He tugged me toward the resort. "Come on. I’m sure your sister wants to see you again before the ceremony."
I found Lily in the bridal suite, surrounded by what looked like every photo album our family owned. She was already in her dress, looking like an actual princess.
"Oh good, you're here." She wiped her eyes. "Look what Mom brought."
She held up a photo of us as kids—me in my mom's wedding dress, which dragged on the floor and gaped at the shoulders, while Lily wore one of mom's veils like a cape.
"You were practicing," Mom said, dabbing at her eyes, "even then."
"Like how you should be practicing some common sense,” I said, voice full of mock reproach. “ Seriously? ” I asked, taking the album and pictures from her. “You’re trying to make yourself cry right after getting your makeup done?”
The makeup artist smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll get her cleaned up when she’s finished with the waterworks."
Lily caught my hand. "Thank you. For everything. Not just the wedding, but also for being an amazing sister and an even better friend. I love you, Em.”
"Love you too, Lily. And that's what sisters are for." I squeezed her fingers. "Now seriously stop crying. Your eyes are going to be all puffy, even if she can fix your makeup.”
“I’ll try. But look how sweet we were,” she said, pressing two fingers to another photo.
I headed for the door. "Wedding planner duties call. Send for me if you need anything. Okay?"
"Tell James I said hi!" Lily called after me.
I made a rude gesture without turning around, their laughter following me into the hall.
The ceremony was perfect, of course. Not because everything went exactly as planned—Dick knocked over a flower arrangement during the procession, and the flower girls got distracted halfway down the aisle and had to be herded back on course, along with a few other small mishaps.
But it was perfect because of the way Marcus's eyes filled with tears when he saw Lily. Perfect because of how she practically ran the last few steps to reach him. Perfect because when they said their vows, there were no secrets between them.
I didn't realize I was crying until James handed me a handkerchief.
"Thought you might need this," he whispered.
I dabbed at my eyes. "Since when do you carry a handkerchief? Are you an eighty-year-old man?"
"Shh," he said, but he was smiling. "We're about to get to the good part."
Sure enough, the officiant was asking if anyone had reason these two should not be wed. For the first time since Ireland, I didn't hold my breath waiting for someone to stand up.
Instead, I watched my sister kiss her new husband while everyone cheered. I watched Richard Wellington try to hide his own tears. I watched Dick hit on one of the bridesmaids and get spectacularly shot down.
And I felt James's hand find mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
"Still think some weddings are worth wrecking?" I asked later, as we swayed together during the reception.
"Definitely." He spun me out, then pulled me back against his chest. "But some are worth protecting instead."
"Yeah?" I tipped my face up to his. "How do you know which is which?"
"Same way I knew you were different." He brushed his lips across mine. "Sometimes you just know."
"That's not very scientific."
"Neither is love."
I smiled against his mouth. "When did you get so sappy?"
"Must be all this time I’ve been spending hanging around with a wedding planner. They’re notoriously romantic and sappy.”
“We’ve done a lot more than hang around,” I teased.
“You’re right. I should be more specific. All this time vigorously fucking and?—"
I pushed my finger to his lips, laughing as his eyes sparkled. “Okay. Less specific was better. Somebody is going to hear you.”
“Good. I want everyone to know how obsessed I am with you. I want them to know how I can’t keep my hands off you. I want them to look at us and feel so jealous they can barely stand. And, of course, I want them to know they can’t have you, because you’re mine.”
“You know…” I said, swaying with my cheek pressed against his chest. “A lot of people would call you crazy for talking like that. How many days have we actually spent together in total? Five? Seven?”
“Eight. I’m hurt that you haven’t been counting. And frankly, I don’t care what a lot of people would call us. I only care what you think about us.”
“Well, I’m not the person to ask. I’m the one who was already falling for you back in Ireland. That’s why it hurt so bad when?—”
“Shh,” he said, silencing me with a tender kiss. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Em. Believe me when I say I’ll never do it again. Unless you ask. In the form of spanking, or something equally sexy.”
I swatted at him as the corners of my lips curved upward. “I believe you,” I said. “Finally… it feels like I’m able to trust. I know things might not go how I want. They might not work out perfectly, but I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than ride this thing and see where it goes.”
“Not to ruin the moment… but did I just hear you say you wanted to ride me? Because that can be arranged. Only I think we should find somewhere more private.”
“James,” I said, laughing softly. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” he said. His fingertip traced my lower lip, eyes lowered so I could admire his long lashes. “Oh, there was something I meant to ask you.”
“Anything,” I whispered.
“Do you know if Emma Marshall gives discounts on wedding planning to her boyfriends?”
My heart stopped. "James..."
"Not right now," he said quickly. "But someday. When we're ready." He pressed his forehead to mine. "I just want you to know that's where I see this going. You and me, building something real together."
I pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you," I whispered, “even though you’ve made a career out of destroying exactly what I try to build.”
He laughed. "For a noble cause. I feel like that should be mentioned in your little jab.”
"Once you’re done making it up to me, I’ll stop teasing you about it.”
"Hmm,” he said, voice so deep it vibrated through his chest to mine. “I’ve enjoyed making it up to you quite a bit, Em. I can’t promise I’ll be done any time soon.”
I smiled up at him, my heart so full it hurt. "Good."