Chapter XXVII Hotdoggin’ （Lena）
XXVII
Hotdoggin’
(Lena)
Months Later
It’s jaw dropping, how fast things move when you have money.
There’s no need to have a marriage fund, especially not when Brady’s parents insisted on shouldering the cost of our very scaled-down wedding.
Brady didn’t want to accept. After growing up under their thumb all his life, he wanted to be independent, and I can’t blame him.
It’s a nice sentiment. But I understood the gesture too. The apology in the gift.
So that’s why I let them splash bills on my wedding dress.
Probably one of the fairest compromises I’ve ever made.
Six months ago, Brady asked me to marry him for real. Six months ago, I accepted.
Now we’re here.
Decked out on a massive rented yacht that gives our big day the perfect fairy-tale touch.
I know Kerrigan Pruitt, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, had this whole extravagant wedding day visualized down to the hour. The social event of the season. The year.
After everything that went down, she thought we’d want to give the world a glimpse of a happily-ever-after it tried to deny us.
But really, Brady and I just agreed to the yacht wedding to get away from the noise, the cameras, and the prying eyes.
Still, Seattle feels like it’s a universe away out here. The San Juan Islands are beautiful in the spring, and the day couldn’t have dawned more beautifully with clear skies and calm waters.
“Hold still, no fussing!” Gran slaps my hands away as I reach up to fiddle with the fancy hairdo she insisted on giving me.
Elle giggles from her corner perch, where she’s curled up on the large sofa beside my bed.
It’s hysterical to her, because she went through this with her wedding to August.
“I’m just checking, jeez. The wind will ruin my hair the second I go outside, anyway,” I say.
We might have the best kind of day for an outdoor wedding on the ocean, but we’re still on a boat. The wind is a given, and these pretty brunette curls draped down my neck will be the first casualties.
“Never underestimate the power of pins,” the old woman whispers through a mouthful of them.
I glance at Mom, who flashes me a giant thumbs-up. Honestly, she might be the happiest one here today, awestruck ever since she came aboard the ship.
Then I look through the window, trying to see more of the preparations.
Every woman in my wedding party banded together to keep me inside all morning.
I planned this wedding, but I don’t have a clue if everything’s in order.
If the seats are set up.
If Queenie has her special ring bearer collar on without trying to wrestle out of it.
If Brady’s suit is uncreased.
Now that will be a miracle.
“Almost there! Just a few more seconds.” Gran pushes a final pin in the back of my head.
“Hope your hubby likes puzzles! Brady will have a crazy time getting them out.” Elle laughs again.
“What good’s a wedding without a little suspense?” Gran snickers knowingly. “It’s a joy to keep a man waiting every now and again.”
My face heats.
I smooth my hand down my dress. Wildly extravagant isn’t my style, no, and this is the most basic sleek white gown Kerrigan Pruitt would let me get away with on her designer budget.
Basic or not, I still feel like a princess. I mean, as long as I don’t think about the price tag.
. . . I’m really not going to get used to being rich.
Spending five outrageous figures on a wedding dress feels obscene. Doesn’t matter if it’s pocket change for a billionaire family.
I could have bought a nice new car instead.
But I also know the usual rules don’t apply in this world, and this is Kerrigan and Alec’s apology note. Their acceptance and a welcome gift, bringing me into the family.
Every time I get a nice long look at this getup, I remember why I can’t complain.
“There!” Gran announces triumphantly, patting my hair and stepping back.
I touch the braids gently as I gaze at myself in the mirror.
Yep, the soft curls around my face will probably blow everywhere, but I have to admit the braids wrapped around my head feel like they’re built to withstand a tropical storm.
“You can even sleep on it—but don’t,” she says with a heavy tone that suggests she thinks that’s a distinct possibility.
I can’t muster the courage to deny it.
Really, there’s only one thing happening the second this dress comes off, and it will obliterate my pretty hair.
Nothing about our arrangement is traditional, but Brady agreed we’d abstain for an entire month to make our honeymoon more explosive than ever.
I mean, not abstain from everything. We don’t have the willpower for that.
Things got creative, let’s say.
Just not enough to satisfy the itch that can only be scratched by having him inside me.
I now know true suffering.
I’m so horny we might just leave the pins in and put Gran’s handiwork to the wildest test.
I rub my warm skin, almost wishing this dress had sleeves.
It’s off the shoulder and elegant, everything I could ever wish for in a wedding dress, but we’re basically almost in Canada, and it isn’t close to summer yet.
“Nervous?” Elle appears by my side.
“Excited. Just as long as nobody else knows we’re here.”
It wouldn’t be impossible, especially because we’re on a very short list of people who can afford to take a yacht this size out of Anacortes.
Every gossipy mouth in Seattle and beyond would kill for an exclusive shoot of the Pruitts’ big day, even if they have to follow us on a whale-watching ship with high-powered cameras.
“Oh, hush. No one knows the date. I burned the wedding invitation,” Elle reminds me.
I snicker, because I know she really went that far.
“It’s the honeymoon you’ll have to worry about. Or just buck up and smile for the cameras. No creepers today, though,” she assures me. “This is your big day, and Brady’s. Enjoy it.”
“I love you.” I smile.
“Love you too, babe. Now go knock your man’s socks off.” She winks at me. “If I wasn’t already taken, I’d be so jealous.”
I snort. August is here, too, a hulking bear of a man who only ever seems to smile at his pretty new wife. He comes in from milling around outside a minute later.
I like to think he and Brady are becoming fast friends.
From the way Elle looks at him, one of the smaller islands around us could lift up into the sky, and if August was in front of her, she’d never know it.
It’s sweet, though.
Mom pokes her head through the door after grabbing a fresh cup of coffee. Her face breaks into a smile when she sees me fully transformed into a blushing bride.
Ugh, am I really blushing that much?
Sometimes, I forget how much she’s been through. But when I see her grinning, with her eyes all glassy, it reminds me of how little she’s smiled since Dad left.
It makes my heart hurt in the best way.
To think that I’m the reason for her lighting up like this again.
“Lena, oh my God!” She rushes up and grabs my shoulders, holding herself back like she’ll ruin me if she gets any closer.
“Mom, calm down. You saw me like five minutes ago.”
“But now you’re finished. You’re a bride.” She sniffles.
“No crying, Mrs. Joly. House rules,” Elle jokes. Then she and Granny Lark head outside with August to find their seats.
As you’d expect, it’s a tiny, private affair. Mom will walk me down the aisle with Elle trailing behind as my maid of honor.
“I love you. I love this,” Mom gushes, turning me so we’re both facing the mirror. “If your father could see you now . . .”
I smile grimly, refusing to let my eyes mist up.
This is a good day. Two generations of Joly women literally sailing into tomorrow.
“Are you happy?” she whispers, her eyes brimming.
“You know I am, Mom. If Dad could meet Brady, they’d be insta-buds. Brady would’ve loved his old radio-controlled planes, with the drone stuff he’s doing for his channel now,” I whisper back.
“I know, baby. You chose a good one.” She squeezes me. “Are you ready, though?”
“I’ve been ready since the first proposal. Um, sorry about that—keeping you in the dark. It happened so fast.” I watch her laugh and shake her head. “But he’s so perfect for me, Mom.”
“Yes. I knew something was going on when you wouldn’t bring the boy out to meet me until after the drama bomb exploded.”
“Something’s going on with you too.” I look up at her curiously. “You’re wearing a new perfume. What is that? Cherry?”
“No perfume, I—” She stops and closes her mouth, her face heating.
“Mom?”
She sighs. “If you must know, Granny Lark pulled me aside after the groom’s dinner last night.
We were reminiscing about that old bakery in Capitol Hill we loved when you were little.
I might’ve mentioned the ice cream stand, and .
. . the woman is relentless.” Mom beams me a shaky smile.
“You don’t even want to know how she tracked down five pounds of cherries in the off season with all the grocery stores closed.
It’s not quite the old Raven Swirl recipe, but we churned up a decent batch for the reception.
Just a fun little extra we thought people would like.
Only now I’ve gone and ruined the surprise, so—”
“Mom!” I just react, leaping up and throwing my arms around her. “I’m proud of you.”
I’m honestly trembling, wondering how this day can get any better.
I haven’t seen my mother so much as glance at a pint of ice cream in a freezer case since the day Harry Jay wrecked her business.
“Yes, well, my daughter’s big day only happens once.” She wipes under her eyes, checking to make sure she hasn’t smeared her liner. “Let’s walk.”
I accept the offer without another word. Just grinning because I think this won’t be the last time Mom revives her old passion.
I really owe Gran a nice massage gift certificate or a new set of gardening tools. What can’t her scheming do?
With my arm in Mom’s, I take my first step into the brilliant golden sunlight.
Perfection awaits.
Our little crowd turns to look at us as the music swells from the ship’s speakers.
Gran has Queenie on a short leash. The Lab barks when she sees me, straining a little to get closer.