Chapter 27
27
Dakota
“ I ’m going to be sick again,” I warn Chelsea as I almost drop headfirst into the toilet bowl.
My best friend is a saint. She’s been standing beside me with ice and clean towels, helping me stay clean before I put the bridal gown on. I’ve been puking, on and off, for the past half hour. It’s as if my body has suddenly decided to turn against me, and on my wedding day, no less. My sham wedding day.
We’re upstairs, in one of the chapel’s private rooms.
“Wow, your wedding jitters are crazy,” Chelsea mutters and gives me another wet towel to put on my pale, burning face. “Do we need to call an ambulance?”
“No, no… it’s… maybe some orange juice will help?”
“Honey, this is not something that orange juice can fix,” she chuckles dryly but obliges, pouring me a glass of orange juice from the carafe on the dresser.
I thank her and take slow, deliberate sips, if only to change the awful taste in my mouth. “It’s a good thing I packed a toothbrush and toothpaste, just in case,” I mutter mostly to myself.
“Dakota, what’s going on?” she asks, giving me a worried look. “Are you really that nervous about this wedding? It’s not even real.”
I’ve been carrying this secret on my own for long enough. Chelsea has been nothing but kind and supportive every step of the way. I owe her the truth, and frankly, I can’t see the point in hiding it from her any longer. If anything, she might be able to help me get it all under control before I go downstairs and walk down that aisle.
“So, funny story,” I say, pasting on an awkward smile.
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, Chelsea stares at me for a hot second, her jaw slowly dropping. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I want to say I didn’t see it coming, but we weren’t exactly careful about it, either.”
“Oh, my God, Dakota, you’re pregnant?”
“Keep your voice down,” I hurriedly shush her. “Nobody else knows.”
“Which one of them is the father?”
“I have no idea.”
“Not that it really matters, come to think about it. They’re triplets,” Chelsea laughs. “It’s theirs, technically speaking. Same DNA, same pretty much everything.”
“I didn’t think of that,” I reply, half-smiling.
“Here, let me,” she says, wetting the towel and coming back to my face for one final round. “We need to get you ready. The preacher will be arriving in about an hour.”
“Thank you, Chelsea.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I’m quiet as she dries my face, then applies a series of toners and serums over my skin, massaging each drop until it’s absorbed into my flesh. I feel like a little kid, well taken care of and downright nurtured. In some ways, Chelsea reminds me of Sally. She’s just as sweet and patient, just as kind and loving. Someday, some guy is going to be stupid lucky for landing a woman like her.
“Are you going to tell them?” she asks when we’re settled by the table, halfway through the primer phase of my makeup. “About the baby, that is.”
“At some point, yeah. Just not today,” I reply.
“Fair enough. But how do you think it’ll play out? It’s a pretty big bombshell.”
“It’s a hot mess, isn’t it?”
She sighs deeply, fingers gently dabbing the concealer into my cheeks and under my eyes. “Well, it could’ve been a lot worse. You could still be facing foreclosure on the house, still dirt poor, and losing the Monroe money. At least you’ll be rich enough to afford to raise an entire football team if you want.”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” I can’t help but laugh.
She gives me a long, pensive look. “Dakota, listen. First of all—and I mean this with all honesty—congratulations. Having a baby, no matter the circumstances is a reason for joy. You’re bringing a new life into this world, and you’ve already proven yourself as a more than capable mother. With you as a mom, that little guy or girl is going to be the luckiest,” she adds, nodding at my belly. “And Maisie will be one hell of a big sister.”
I feel a smile stretch across my face as Chelsea proceeds with a delicate layer of foundation, using a sponge to blend everything in.
“I just wonder how the guys are going to react. They’re so good to Maisie, and she’s gotten so tight with Trevor. I swear, if it weren’t for this wretched morning sickness and the pregnancy hormones, I think I’d be a whole lot happier about this day, despite the reason we’re doing it in the first place.”
“It’s a complicated situation, honey. It’s all clearly happening in the wrong order,” she says. “But no matter what, these guys have already proven themselves worthy on so many levels. I mean, they’re great dads, and they obviously care deeply about you.”
“They really do,” I admit.
“They’re also good providers,” Chelsea continues. “You’re going to have to let them provide, though, in the long term. You do what you want with your inheritance, but you need to let these men provide for you. In every possible way.”
“Yeah, I know. Honestly, I’m working on it.”
“Everything is going to be all right.”
I sigh heavily. “I just wish—”
“You just wish it had happened differently,” Chelsea finishes for me, adding powder to my face with a thick, kabuki-style brush. “Tough titties, sister. It happened the way it did because it was meant to happen this way. It doesn’t mean it’s not genuine, though, does it?”
I shrug slightly. “I guess not. But it still feels forced.”
“You’re all under a lot of pressure. You, in particular, because of what’s on the line if you don’t get married by Christmas Day,” she reminds me.
“Probably. I am happy, you know, in a weird, unconventional way. But you said it so well. There’s just too much happening all at once, and I don’t have the bandwidth for all of it.”
I take a look in the mirror and smile. Chelsea has a light hand, but she knows her way around a makeup kit.
“What do you think?” she asks, then holds her breath for a minute.
“I look like a princess out of a fairy tale,” I mumble, admiring the shades of pearly pink over my eyelids, the black, fine lines, the perfectly arched brows. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“What if this is your fairy-tale wedding, huh?”
I stare at her for a long, awkward moment. “You’re joking.”
“Just think about it for a second,” she laughs. “Technically, you’re marrying not one, but three strapping, handsome princes. Sure, it’s just one of them on paper, but you know you’re marrying all three.”
“I am.”
“And you’re building a family of your own. Forget the circumstances, the rushing into it, the chaos, and the terrible timing, and take a step back. Look at the whole picture. Life isn’t a fairy tale. It was never intended as such. For the majority, it’s just a series of events, some more or less fortunate than others. For you, today is the key to so many wants and needs. It just didn’t come to you in the desired package. It didn’t come with a glossy gift wrap, let’s say.”
That’s food for thought.
A minute ago, I was close to brooding over the whole thing, wishing it had happened differently. “It’s the closest I’ll ever get to a fairy-tale happy ending, isn’t it, Chelsea?”
“It’s the best happy ending you could possibly ask for because today marks the beginning of the rest of your life. And it’s only going to get better from here.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I reply, suddenly perkier than ever. “We don’t always get what we want in this life. But we almost always get what we need. This is what I need.”
“Cold, hard cash.”
“And three hot husbands.”
“ Bam! ”
Our giggling session is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I say.
“Hi, ladies,” the Faulkner matriarch comes in. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, Donna, not at all. Please, join us,” I reply with a warm smile.
We’ve only just met. Literally, an hour ago. It was a bit awkward, but Donna Faulkner is one of the sweetest women I’ve ever come across. She’s got a hard side, a rough edge I’m sure she needed while raising Maddox, Archer, and Reed. They couldn’t have been anything other than a handful, given their powerful yet distinct personalities. But overall, Donna is defined by grace and kindness. It shows in every word and every gesture.
To me, what matters the most is the speed with which she welcomed me into the fold. As soon as we shook hands, she pulled me into a hug and said welcome to the Faulkner family. She knows how her sons live, she understands their particular romantic needs, and she supports them in every decision they make, which means that our secret is safe with her.
“We just finished the makeup, Chelsea says. “On to the dress.”
“Ah, then it’s a good thing I came along,” Donna chuckles, then looks over to the gown. “My gosh, it looks beautiful. Let me help.”
“It would be an honor,” I say.
Twenty minutes later, I stare at the image in the full-length mirror, barely able to recognize myself. The woman smiling back at me is a vision in white, the dress doing most of the work in this picture. It’s a classic 1950s style with a lace bodice and long lace sleeves, the skirt swelling outward like an inverted tulip in layers of white silk and tulle. Tiny pearls are sewn in throughout, twinkling in between the layers.
I gesture at myself. “Thank you both so much for helping me get ready. I’m speechless.”
“Well, darling, we had great material to work with, and I’m not talking about the dress,” Donna quips. She beckons me to turn around so I can face her, then gently takes my hands in hers. “I do wish we’d met sooner and under more relaxed circumstances. But these are my boys. It’s how they do things. And I will always respect their wishes.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
She raises an eyebrow. “What are you sorry for? Dakota, the only reason they’re doing this is because you have their hearts in your hands already. They love you. That’s why they’re marrying you so quickly.”
“They’re marrying me so I can get my inheritance. I know Reed told you about it.”
“Honey,” Chelsea interjects with a light chuckle, “that’s what she’s getting at.”
“My sons are marrying you because they love you,” Donna insists. “They’re helping you because they love you. And once you understand that, I promise everything else will make a whole lot more sense later down the road.”
“I’d almost forgotten,” I say, tearing up. “You’re so right, Donna. How did I not see it?”
I’ve been so fixated on believing that the wedding is nothing more than a sham we’re putting together so I can get my inheritance that I’ve had blinders on to everything else.
Chelsea rushes to dab the waterworks away with a tissue. “Do not ruin your makeup, or I will give you a real reason to cry, sister.”
“Oh, darling, you’ve got so much on your plate,” Donna tells me. “I can tell you’re under a lot of pressure. When the boys told me your story, I have to admit, I became immediately fond of you. I hadn’t even met you yet. But seeing you now, I understand why they’re so smitten. The least I can do is give you some peace of mind when you need it the most.” She pauses, watching as Chelsea lovingly dries my face and retouches my makeup.
“Forget about everything and everybody else who isn’t here today to celebrate with you. Keep your departed loved ones in your heart as you walk down that aisle,” Donna says.
Sadness comes over me as I take a deep breath. Chelsea instantly senses the shift in my mood and gives me a gentle shoulder squeeze. We stay close for a while, looking at ourselves in the mirror while Donna adds a touch of blush to her tanned cheeks.
“Grandma Sally would be so thrilled right about now,” Chelsea says. “You know she’s smiling down from heaven today, right?”
“Yes. And Dad would have walked me down the aisle,” I reply.
“Oh, and your mom, she’d be busy keeping the other bridesmaids in line. Callie, in particular.”
“You think?”
“That’s your half-sister, right?” Donna asks.
I nod once. “Yeah, we met in some pretty unpleasant circumstances. I believe the guys told you about her as well.”
“She’s downstairs, playing nice,” Donna says. “A little too fond of the champagne for my taste, but she is about to kiss eighty million dollars goodbye, so I can’t exactly blame the girl. At least she’s showing up for you. It says a lot, given everything that has happened, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I agree. I’ve been trying to get the guys to understand that, too.”
Donna laughs. “My boys don’t trust anyone they don’t wholeheartedly love. In this scenario, the only people they wholeheartedly trust are you, me, and the children. Everybody else is subject to constant scrutiny, especially Callie, who has a record of unsavory behavior toward you.”
“All I want is to make them happy,” I tell her.
“And you do,” Donna assures me.
It’s going to be a good day.
I can feel it.