3. Pinky Promise
PINKY PROMISE
REX
“She says these ostrich feathers are perfect for a vintage-riche Christmas wedding theme. What the hell?” Chelsea pointed to her phone, even though I couldn’t make out the text from here. I could grab my phone to read the messages Mom copied to me, but why add to my headache?
“That’s it, Rex. I’m putting my foot down. We’re doing traditional red and green and gold and silver colors for our wedding and that’s final.” She started texting back, but I quickly pulled her to me, between my legs, and stopped her furious tapping out of a reply, taking charge of her phone.
“Now, let’s talk about this, sweetness.” I set her on my knee. “I warned you how Miriam is over the top, but who knows if Richard will ever marry again? Our wedding may be my mother’s only hope to experience this type of grand event. Whereas your mother has two more children likely to marry. Do you think we can make some exceptions and go along with Miriam’s plans?”
That was absolutely the wrong thing to say to my bride-to-be, and I learned that after watching her eyes doubling in size and her face turning red. I’d yet to see a furious Chelsea until now. Even when I proposed to her the first time, offering only a marriage of convenience, she didn’t look this pissed, more like heartbroken at the time. Which stabbed me in the gut as much as this.
She crossed the room and tore her luggage out of the closet, banging the door, and landing the bag with a thud on the end of the bed. She attacked the zipper, yanking it fiercely around. “If this is how things are going to be, Rex, if you aren’t going to side with me against your mother over things, then why bother?”
I came between her and the suitcase in a flash, rounding my arms and pinning her against me. “Whoa, darling. Stop right there. I’m not siding with her. I’m just a big dumb man caught in the middle between two women I love. And I want you both to be happy.”
“I want this wedding to be everything we want it to be, not so much all Miriam’s ideas. I worry she’ll take it over, turning it into what she wants.”
“Well, we Buchanans are used to getting what we want,” I chuckled with a cocky smile. But it was way too soon to joke around about this. Chelsea scoffed and wormed her way out of my hold, and opened the armoire to pack her clothes.
“Sweetness. Stop. So there will be bird feathers for centerpieces. I don’t care. All I want more than anything is to hear you say I do on our wedding day,” I pleaded, but her angry face melted into sadness, tearing my heart out in the process as she fell into a heap on the floor.
“It’ll look nothing like the wedding I always dreamed I’d have.”
“What do you mean?” I crouched down beside her.
“I wanted a Christmas wedding at the gazebo on the square in Holly Creek with snow all around, a white furry muff for my hands and my mother’s shawl for my shoulders over her original wedding gown. My family and friends gathered all around us. A huge table with an assortment of pies at Mom’s house, and a hot cocoa bar, of course.”
Wow. I suddenly realized we never talked about what she wanted for this wedding. The Buchanans just took over, handed her a blank check, put her in touch with one of New York’s finest wedding planners, and I left Chelsea to deal with my mother. I couldn’t feel more shitty now.
The only thing I knew was I’d do anything for the love of my life. While I couldn’t stop this wedding of the century my mother wanted, I had to figure out how to make Chelsea happy, too.
I marched to the other side of the bed and took up my phone. My thumbs went crazy, tapping out a message to the group that Mom, Chelsea, and Agnes would read.
Rex: We’re doing a traditional Christmas-themed wedding with red, green, silver, and gold. Nix the feathers. Chelsea will pick something nice, I have no doubt.
Miriam: But the feathers are so glamorous. Wait until you see them in person.
“How about red and green feathers?” I asked Chelsea, just in case there could be a compromise between the two women.
She shook her head vehemently against my attempt to find a middle ground. “I think red roses would be nicer for our Christmas wedding centerpieces, don’t you, Rex?”
“Of course. Silly me, Sweetness. Red roses it is.” I typed the message back to Mom and added that we didn’t want to be bothered about the wedding until Monday. She was supposed to leave us alone during our spring vacation anyway, although it surprised me she had left us alone this long.
“See. Fixed. Now, come here.” I lifted Chelsea into my arms and laid her back down on the bed. “I’m sorry we aren’t having the wedding at Holly Creek. But I’ll do everything I can to make our wedding in New York City special. I promise.”
I hovered over her, pulling up her slip, kissing along her skin, heading down to the apex of her thighs. “Now, let me make this up to you.”
She stopped me, holding out her finger. “Pinky-swear that we agree to get through this together, Rex.”
As juvenile as it was, I discovered some time ago that my sunshiny wife-to-be had these cute ways about her from time to time, which made her irresistible. I linked our pinkies together. “I know Mom can be a force, but don’t let her get under your skin. Just promise me you won’t give up on us over the next several months, sweetness.”
“I promise.”
And with that, I prayed this would be our only argument for the entire time we planned the wedding. Then again, I recalled Richard and his ex had plenty to fight about through the months leading up to their day. But surely Chelsea and I were different and could handle anything Miriam would throw at us.