Chapter 34 Wrenley
Wrenley
Twenty-four hours.
That’s all the time left I have to decide if I’ll walk down that aisle or take a huge career opportunity.
One thing I know for certain: I love Ruger. God, I love him. I wanted to tell him so badly. I still do. My hand keeps reaching for my phone, my thumbs typing out lyrical messages, only to delete them because he asked me to take my time. To be sure.
And I should.
What I came here for and what I found are two entirely different things. This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience. But somewhere along the way, it became something bigger.
Why can’t my brain just let it be enough?
Are you sure you want to do this? Remi asks.
We’re standing in Fabric Delights, waiting for Audrey to come out with the altered wedding dress.
I don’t know, I answer honestly.
And I don’t. At the end of the day, if I want to stay here, I have to go through with this wedding or say yes to Tammie.
And I still haven’t made a choice. Distance hasn’t necessarily made it easier, but I have noticed that life without Ruger is a lot less fun in many ways.
The sex is mind-blowing, sure, but it’s more than that.
He comes up with wacky date plans like cutting wood and shooting guns.
He takes care of me without asking or expecting anything in return.
What are the chances I’ll find that again, all wrapped up in a sexy, tall, lumberjack-esque bow?
On the flip side of that, can I truly sacrifice my career for a man again?
Tears prick my eyes, and I blink, trying to keep them inside my body.
Okay! Audrey bursts into the back room, carrying the dress. It’s all taken in. Mom’s on her way, and then we’ll do a final try-on. Wrenley—hey. Are you okay?
Her voice wobbles through my haze. My eyes are so blurry with tears, the fabric in her arms looks like a watercolour smear.
Sweetie, Audrey says gently. I know we’re cutting it close, but it’s done. It’s stunning.
I shake my head, choking on air. It’s not that. It’s— My throat locks, my chest tightening like a vise. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
Oh God. I can’t breathe.
Wren! Remi jumps up and rushes to me. Audrey drops the dress and follows, while Remi grabs my trembling hands, her eyes locking on mine. Breathe with me. In… and out.
I try to follow, but my breaths come jagged and painful.
What’s going on? Beryl’s voice cuts through, calm but concerned.
Panic attack, I think, Audrey says quickly.
Beryl peers at me, her weathered face soft with concern. The pre-wedding jitters that bad, child? You going to be alright?
I manage to draw in one shaky lungful of air. And then as I look at the two women who’ve poured so much love and effort into me, into this dress, into this entire instance plan, the truth caves out of me.
No.
No? Audrey echoes, startled.
I look at Remi, who looks so concerned it makes my chest ache. I can’t keep doing this to everyone. I have to be honest and say the full truth because keeping it inside isn’t working anymore.
I squeeze my eyes shut because I can’t bear to watch their faces when I admit it. There might not be a wedding. My lip quivers so hard it hurts. It wasn’t real. Ruger and me—it wasn’t real.
Silence stretches, heavy and fragile.
What do you mean? Audrey asks softly.
And so I tell them.
The whole messy truth. How this all started with Remi’s idea.
How I lost everything back home, and Remi and I decided that by faking a marriage, we could get me a green card faster.
How I never expected to find family here, and I failed them by lying.
How somewhere in the middle of it all, I fell completely, stupidly in love with Ruger.
And how I have a job offer sitting in my inbox waiting to be answered, and how everyone maybe wasted their time, effort, and resources doing this because I don’t know which way I’m going to go.
By the time I finish, my chest is raw, and my throat feels like sandpaper.
Wow, Audrey says at last. I… didn’t think you’d ever confess.
Beryl nods in agreement.
Remi and I look at each other, then back at Audrey.
What? I ask.
She chuckles softly. It wasn’t obvious at first, but the more I got to know you, the more I started noticing little things.
Like what?
Like some of your answers seemed kind of rehearsed, she says. And when they weren’t robotic, there was always this little hesitation.
Wow, we suck at this, Remi says.
Why didn’t you say anything?
Walter’s wife warned us that lying about marriage could cause real trouble. She wraps an arm around Remi and pulls her into her. We love these twins too much to let anything happen to them. And we love you too, Wrenley.
New tears form, and there’s no stopping them.
I went from a stranger to someone they look at as one of their own. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before. Not like this. Not with people who have no reason to keep their hearts open to me but are.
I belong here, and I didn’t have to earn my place.
I feel bad about the dress, I say.
Why? Beryl asks. If this isn’t your wedding, then you take it with you and wear it when you do get married. My only rule is you have to invite me.
She says it so casually, as if there’s no question I’ll still be part of her life years from now.
I made this for you, Beryl adds. No matter what happens tomorrow, it’s yours.
I swallow past a lump in my throat. Thank you.
And then, I don’t know who initiates it, but suddenly, we’re all hugging.
When we pull apart, Audrey wipes at her eyes, her mascara a little smeared. Let’s try on this dress. Then either way, you’ll know you’re ready. You’ll know you’ll look as beautiful on the outside as you do inside.
I look around at these four women and realize they’re not just my friends. They’re my family.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the back room in the wedding dress.
My fingers trail over the vintage silk as though it might vanish if I don’t keep touching it.
When I step in front of the full-length mirror, I gasp.
It’s hard to believe that once upon a time, this gown was buried under too much lace, too much organza, too much everything.
Now, somehow, it’s the classic Hollywood style I love.
The front bodice dips low, the lace between the panels that covers my breast. Even though lace isn’t usually my thing, knowing it’s a small piece of Beryl’s original makes it feel special, and I love it.
The skirt flows in a perfect A-line, whispering against the floor.
I smooth my palms down the fabric again and again, just to watch it move.
This dress was reborn. Audrey and Beryl took all the pain it had carried, all the years it sat neglected, and convinced it to try again.
I love it, I whisper. My throat is tight, my chest aching. I can’t thank you enough.
Beryl wipes at her cheeks, tears shimmering in her kind eyes. You are such a beautiful bride.
She really is, Remi says, and there are tears in her eyes that make more spill from mine.
We have to stop crying, I say.
Agreed, Audrey says. My mascara can’t take much more. She sniffles.
Oh, Audrey, the veil, Beryl says suddenly.
Right, it’s in my car. Audrey laughs and heads toward the back door. I’ll go get it.
I’ll get the steamer set up, Beryl says and disappears to the back.
Then it’s just me and Remi.
She reaches out and runs her fingers along the silk dress. You really do look beautiful, she says.
Thank you.
I look in the mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back at me. Gone is the lost soul who saw marriage as a way to regain control of her life. I have people who care about me. A future that doesn’t have to just be about my career if I don’t want it to.
Most importantly, I have myself. And that’s starting to feel like a whole hell of a lot more than I ever thought possible.
A phone vibrates.
Remi picks up her phone. Not me.
Must be mine, I say. Can you pass it to me?
She does.
A part of me is hopeful that it’s Ruger, but I know better than to get carried away.
Ruger is a man of his word. Even after everything that’s happened between us, he’s still prepared to stand at the altar tomorrow because he made a promise.
And if he said he’d give me space, he’ll keep that promise too.
The chances of him reaching out are basically non-existent.
The notification is an email. My heart races when I see the name Tammie Roswell in bold.
Oh my God. I hold the phone out to Remi. What do I do?
Remi basically suction cups to my side, clinging to my arm, eyes wide. Open it.
I do.
To: Wrenley St. James
From: Tammie Roswell
Subject: FOLLOW UP: Re: Costume Designer Opportunity
Wrenley,
I hope you’re doing well.
I wanted to check in as I haven’t heard from you, and I wanted to make sure I gave you a chance to respond before the deadline passes. I know this is a significant decision, and a big move, but I truly believe it would be a wonderful opportunity for you.
My colleagues remain very interested in bringing you on board, mentioning you to me earlier today. I do need a final answer before I can move anything forward.
Whatever you decide, I wish you the very best.
Regards,
Tammie Roswell
President & Creative Director
Halcyon House
I look at Remi. Her jaw is dropped, and she’s looking in disbelief.
Jeez, she wants you more than the US government wanted proof your relationship was real, she says.
I let out a true laugh at that, then look back at the email and sigh.
So? Remi asks. What do you think? Are we going to a wedding, or am I taking you to Anchorage to catch a plane?
I smile, because without a doubt in my mind, I know the answer.