Chapter 57
57
“It won’t zip,” I sob, clumsily stepping out of my dress and nearly face-planting on the floor, wearing only a bra and panties.
Genesis catches me just in time.
We’ve tried everything possible and then some to fit me into my wedding dress. I had it tailored months ago, not thinking I’d have that much weight fluctuation.
“I’ve sucked in all I can suck in,” I cry. My breaths are wheezy since I haven’t taken a full once since we started the exhausting project of how can we make Pippa skinnier . “The only way I’m fitting in that dress is one of you squeezing me so tight until my eyes pop out.”
Darcy scrunches her nose. “Ew, Ms. Morbid.”
“That’s it. I can’t walk down the aisle.” Like the dramatic bride I swore not to be, I collapse on the floor, settling my back against the wall, and bow my head as tears stream down my face. “You can all go. Grab a gift bag on your way out.”
“Honey,” my mom softly says, sitting next to me and stroking my arm. “We’ll figure something out.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Genesis leave the room .
“You can use my wedding dress,” Gigi offers before adding, “That isn’t a bad-luck thing, is it?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Neomi says. “Let me google it.”
Neomi reaches for her phone, and I tune out their bad-luck conversation. Even if it isn’t considered bad luck, no way can I fit into Gigi’s dress. I won’t risk trying either because I’d feel terrible if I busted a button.
My shoulders slump in shame for not trying on the dress again days ago. It was even on my wedding checklist to do that last week. But I got too busy. Really, I forgot to check things off that list two weeks ago because I stupidly thought I had everything finished.
“Do you want me to go to your house and get you another dress?” Lanie asks, squatting next to me. “It’s only a thirty-minute drive.”
I blink away tears.
No, because I don’t know what will fit me in my closet .
Lately, my wardrobe has consisted of leggings and sweats.
There’s a reason I can’t fit in my dress.
Too much unprotected sex with my husband.
The door opens, and I hear loud footsteps.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Damien asks as I slowly lift my head.
He stands in front of me, clad in his tux, looking like the perfect husband he is. Lanie slides away from me as Damien takes her place. My heart stops as our eyes meet, and I see the panic in his.
My lower lip trembles as he uses his thumb to collect tears from my cheek. My makeup is ruined, and my hair slipped from its updo on my almost fall. I look far from a bride ready for her big day.
“I can’t fit into my dress,” I cry out. “I should’ve tried it on before.”
His chest relaxes. “That’s not a big deal. ”
Says the guy who isn’t expected to walk down the aisle in a beautiful gown .
“It’s not fine.” I throw my arm out toward the dress puddled on the floor. “I have nothing to wear down the aisle.”
My mom stands. “Let’s give them a minute,” she tells the room.
Damien’s worried gaze stays on me as my bridesmaids shuffle out of the bridal suite. He holds out his hand, helping me off the floor, and walks me to the couch. As I make myself comfortable, he swipes a water bottle, unscrews the cap, and hands it to me.
“Is there a backup dress or something else you can wear?” He drags his hand through his hair.
I shake my head. “I ruined our wedding day.” As I take a sip of water, some drips from the corner of my mouth.
He takes the seat next to me. “You haven’t ruined anything, and don’t forget—we’re already married. If you don’t want to walk down that aisle, you don’t have to. I can tell everyone to leave, or if you want, you can wear sweats for all I care.”
I scoot up the couch, snuggling next to him, and drag my knees to my chest.
He rests his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry your dress doesn’t fit."
“I gained weight,” I croak out.
He starts stroking my hair.
“’I’m … also pregnant.”
His hand stops.
There’s a moment of silence.
I wish I’d stayed where I was so I could see the expression on his face.
“I guess all those times I said I was putting a baby in you finally worked, huh?” He turns me in his arms, situating me to straddle him .
As I flick my gaze to his, there’s nothing but elation on his face.
It’s not that I was nervous he’d be mad about it. He’s stated multiple times, not only during sex, that he can’t wait to have a baby with me.
He cradles my chin in his hand and caresses my cheek. “Are you not happy?”
“No,” I choke out.
His eyes widen.
“No—shoot, I didn’t mean no to that,” I rush out, scrambling for words. “I mean, no , that’s not why I’m upset. I’m just emotional, and now, I don’t have a wedding dress, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t go out there in my panties.” My words are nothing but rambles that come out all in one breath.
“First, no way in hell are you walking down the aisle in your panties.” He lowers his hand to rest on my belly and smiles.
I cup my hand over his. I already like the warmth of it there, and I know it’ll become a regular place for his hand as our baby grows.
“What do you want to do?” he asks. “You decide, and I’m with you.”
I gesture toward what I wore here—sweats and a zip-up jacket. “Those are my only options of walk-down-the-aisle attire.”
“Wear them, then.”
“Sweats?” I sputter out. “The bride wore sweats—so romantic.”
“It does have a nice ring to it.”
I play with his bow tie. “Let me paint this picture for you. There you are, standing at the altar, looking all handsome in your tux, waiting for your perfect bride. She comes out wearing a gym outfit. ”
“I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“No, you in a tux and me dressed like that won’t fit.”
“I’ll wear my sweats too, then.”
I jerk back. “What?”
“I have sweats in my bag. I’ll go change. That way, we match.”
I stare at him, slack-jawed.
“This is your wedding. No one else’s. If you feel more comfortable in sweats right now, then wear sweats, baby. In fact, I think you might be onto something. Sweats sound better than this lame-ass tux too.”
I hold back a laugh. “You wear a suit nearly every single day.”
Only a few people have seen the man walk around in sweats. Which is fine with me because him in gray sweats is mouthwatering. I nearly jump his bones every single time.
I narrow my eyes. “They’d better not be gray sweatpants.”
He shakes his head, a wide smile building. “Baby, you told me those are meant for your eyes only. They’re black, basic as fuck.” His hand returns to my stomach, and he massages it in small circles with his thumb, causing goose bumps to form. “What do you say, baby?” He nods, as if the baby is talking. “Oh, you think Mommy should definitely wear her sweats? Okay then.” His gaze travels back to mine. “Baby Bellini suggests her mom wear whatever she feels comfortable in.”
“You’re crazy,” I say around a laugh.
He clamps his hand around my waist and slowly assists me to my feet before standing. “I’ll go change and be right back, baby. Do you want me to send the girls in to help you?”
I bite into the corner of my lip. “Yes, please.”
He smacks a kiss to my lips. “I’ll meet you at the altar.”
“Will you walk me down it?” I mutter. “Be there with me?”
“I’ll see you at the front of the aisle ,” he corrects .
This man … God, he’s perfection.
He leaves the room, and the girls return.
They touch up my makeup and hair.
I change into black sweats and The Ballet Studio zip-up jacket.
“So, I just thought of a great idea,” Genesis says as I sit to tie my sneakers. “Why don’t we all put on the clothes we wore here? Screw being formal.”
I nearly squeal in delight and wrap my arms around her.
This is what true friends are—ones who always figure out a way to make you comfortable.
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Please do.”
They change, and fifteen minutes later, we leave the suite.
As promised, Damien waits for me at the front of the aisle.
His best men have also changed out of their tuxes.
Not fitting into my dress isn’t a bad omen.
It’s just proving another reason Damien is the perfect man for me.
He will change anything, go against everything, to make me happy.
“My beautiful bride,” he says, turning to kiss me. “God, you look amazing.”
While we won’t have that moment where the groom watches me walk down the aisle, we’ll have the one where the groom made his wife comfortable while making that walk with her.
We’ll take those steps together, just like we have every single other one.
Love: ?
Marriage: ?
Baby: ?
Maybe, just maybe, fate doesn’t hate me .
I said I wanted all the steps to true love, and while it wasn’t the easiest on my heart, it’s what he gave me.
Tears fall down my face as we start walking down the aisle. We don’t do it arm in arm. Damien won’t allow it. He takes my hand, clasping it tight in his, and stares at me the entire walk down the aisle.
He is getting his walk-down-the-aisle moment, just a different version. The closer we get to the altar, the more I notice his eyes growing glossy.
It’s us.
Our moment.
Our wedding, like he said.
We separate when we make it to the altar. Damien swipes at his eyes and casts me a reassuring smile.
The ceremony starts.
It’s similar to what we had at the courthouse, but this time, we have our vows and all our loved ones joining us. I asked him to save his until our official ceremony.
Damien says his first. He doesn’t take out a paper to read from. At first, it might look like an unorganized groom, but I know better. Everything Damien says comes straight from the heart. He’s probably had them memorized since the first time he told me he’d marry me, contract or not.
He doesn’t say them loud.
Just an octave above whispering.
“Pippa, shortly after I met you, I lost everything. My world crumbled, and you were there to pick me up, piece by piece, when I thought I was forever shattered. I came to your door, a broken man you hardly knew, and you comforted me. I think that’s the moment I realized I was in love with you. Even if it was early or that I’d skipped enough steps to build a skyscraper, I knew you were the only piece that could truly put me back together.”
A sob comes from his chest, and his eyes haven’t left mine once as he continues.
“You once told me your happily ever after would never come with terms and conditions, but, my sweet dancer, I owe you the terms and conditions of being your husband. I promise, in our marriage, I will treat you with all the respect and love you deserve. Every day, I will strive to be a better husband than the day before. You have my every promise that I’ll never break the contract of love you’ve given me and the faith of allowing me to have your heart. It’s safe with me. You’re safe with me.” Then, he leans in and mouths, “So is our baby,” to me before saying, “I love you.”
I don’t know how he expects me to say vows after those.
He literally just gave me vows that’d win a Grammy, an Emmy, and even a Super Bowl at this point. I’m sobbing, and the more emotion that grows in his eyes, the more worked up I become.
He takes my hand, squeezes it, and doesn’t release me.
I already feel like I’ve somewhat failed by pulling out my paper. Damien has always said he’s not good with words, but the man sure knows how to show the hell up. My hand shakes in his, resulting in another squeeze, as I start speaking in the same volume as he did.
“To my lover, my protector, my everything. The day I walked into Lucky Kings, I was terrified for my life. Little did I know, I’d end up meeting the person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. You didn’t take my life. You gave me a life. You taught me not to fear the unexpected, even if it didn’t fit my step-by-step plan. Sometimes, life gives us detours. Thank you for giving me the grace of your patience and never turning your back on me, even when I allowed my stubbornness to not only get the best of me, but us. I love you and will love you until the end of my days.” I pause to smile at him. “And I promise to always dance for you when you’re down.”
I stare down at our connected hands, seeing our matching tattoos.
Live Once— the O being a heart.
We got them during our honeymoon in Hawaii.
After I broke down at dinner and apologized that I hadn’t realized that sometimes, we didn’t get second chances at love or life. I could’ve lost him because of my stubbornness. We only live once, and it’s too short not to tell the person you love that you love them, not to say screw all your rules and do what makes you happy.
Tears are streaming down my face.
He blinks away his own tears.
With this being our second wedding, I didn’t expect it to be so damn emotional. I should’ve known better and had us say our vows where there wasn’t a crowd of sixty people.
But honestly, at this moment, it’s only the two of us.
And soon, three.