We learn that my brother is in CIA custody before we leave two days later for New York, and I am both relieved and nervous, but not for myself. For Rick. As his sister, I can’t help but want him to have a new beginning of his own.
Our new beginning is officially underway. Shane moves forward with the partnership, and the board is actually excited about the opportunity it represents. And Shane is ready to make it happen. Once he made the decision to rejoin the firm, he became fire unleashed, both in and out of the bedroom, and I can’t wait to see what he will do in the future. He’s so ready for this change that we pack up what we can in Denver for a mover and leave only the necessities for random trips. We do make one agreement I didn’t count on: Cody will be with us for three months, outside of our honeymoon. Just to be safe. I readily agree, deciding that if this allows Shane to focus and get past the loss of his brother, then so be it.
By the weekend, Shane and I have picked out his wedding band, also at Tiffany’s. Jessica, Seth, and now Cody are also in New York with us, making company and personal decisions to coordinate their moves and the company’s, and Seth has just delivered my passport. We’ve also received a pizza delivery and retreated to our “thinking room” to talk about where to get married. “Here,” I say. “I like this room.”
“It’s too small for Seth and Jessica to be witnesses,” he says. “And it’s our room. Just ours.”
Which is what I like about it, I think. It’s ours. We won’t feel like anyone else who isn’t there should be there. Like his parents, who haven’t even called to ask about the wedding. “Somewhere else in the apartment?” I ask. “Or the patio?”
“It’s New York in the summer and hot.”
“Hmmm,” I say.
He sighs and picks up a slice of pizza but sets it back down. “I know this is unorthodox, but what if we do it inside the private plane we charter to Ireland? It easily fits the preacher, a photographer to give us some memory shots, and Seth, Cody, and Jessica.”
I consider the idea, and it feels right. Like a place that isn’t what everyone else expects. Like a place that is ours, and the few people who are with us are helping see us off to a new adventure for not just a week but a lifetime. “Yes. Yes. Let’s do it.”
“Perfect,” he says, kissing me. “I’ll take care of everything.”
* * *
The next morning I wake up feeling sick again, and I decide it’s nerves. I’m getting married. And I have no dress. Shane heads to a meeting with Freddy, and since I don’t have to go anywhere today, I’m in sweats with no makeup on, sitting on the bed and surfing the web for a wedding dress. And I fail miserably at finding one. I call Jessica. “I need a dress. I don’t know what to wear.”
The doorbell rings. “Answer your door and you will.”
My brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“Shane loves you. Answer the door.”
I have no clue what she is talking about, but I hurry down the hallway and to the door, pulling it open to find Jessica and our new designer, Luc, a tall, thin, regal-looking man in a suit. “I hear you need a dress,” he says, looking me and my sweats up and down. “And possibly more.”
“You’re going to make me a dress? Can you do that this fast?”
“No,” he says. “I cannot. Which is why I called all my famous designer friends.” He motions me in the door, and suddenly racks of dresses are being rolled into the apartment by several people who work for him.
My cell phone rings, and I pull it from my phone to see Shane’s number. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I told you I’d take care of everything, sweetheart. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you soon.”
And I am pretty sure my face is going to break, I’m smiling so big.
Hours later I’ve battled queasiness throughout the entire dress selection process, and Jessica has her judgmental eye on me. Thankfully, since I haven’t been feeling well, my three pounds of pancake butt have disappeared, or I’m fairly certain Luc would have had a cardiac arrest, as I soon discover he does with anything that fits too big or too small. Despite all of this, I have fun trying on dresses, some crazy, some sexy, some quirky, and I find the perfect gown.
It’s knee length and pink lace, not white, with sheer sleeves and a deep-V neckline that has a sheer shell to match the sleeves. I slip on a pair of pink heels Luc just happens to have on the show rack, and model my pick. Luc, his three staff members, and Jessica all clap.
“Champagne time!” Luc shouts, and somehow he is producing a bottle and filling glasses.
But when mine is handed to me, Jessica takes it and downs it. “Take a test first or at least wait until you start your period. When is it due?”
“Would you believe on my wedding day?” I ask.
“Oh, Mother Nature is a bitch, isn’t she? Why not take a test?”
“I don’t think I am, but if I am … I don’t know.”
Her hands come down on my shoulders. “He’ll be happy. Take the test.”
“Can you get me one? I don’t want Cody to know.”
She walks to her purse and returns with a bag. “I picked it up on the way over.”
“Thank you.”
“Call me.”
“I will.”
She and Luc’s team leave, and I rush to the bathroom and take the test. It’s negative. I take another one. It’s negative too. I’m relieved. I’m sad. I think I’m sad. No, I’m not. I want this kind of decision to be ours together.
* * *
The night before the wedding, Shane stays with Seth, who I discover has an apartment a few blocks away that he’s owned for years. He suggests I invite Jessica over, but I just really want to be alone and process where I’ve come from and where I’m going. I also want to enjoy our bathtub without sharing. Shane calls me before bed, and we talk for an hour before he ends the call with a soft, sexy, “Tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“Tomorrow,” I whisper, and I’m smiling again, but this time, I imagine I look rather whimsical.
Morning arrives and I’m nervous, my stomach all crazy again. And I haven’t started my period. “Stress can do this,” Jessica says when I call her. “But I’ll pick up another test.”
“Thank you.”
An hour later my hair and makeup are done, and Cody drives me to the airport, where my dress and Jessica await. Nerves dance in my belly, and I decide nerves really could be the issue with the nausea. I step on the plane and gasp as I find it filled with dozens of pink roses. There is an attendant standing in front of me, a smile on her lips as she hands me a card. I open it and it reads: Because they remind me of you. Shane.
The flight attendant moves aside, and I’m pleased to discover the plane has limited seating and plenty of standing room. Jessica appears in the walkway, wearing a white slip dress, as we’ve planned, that is simple but elegant. “And he didn’t even know what color your dress was,” she says, lifting her hand to the roses. “I didn’t tell him.” She motions me forward. “Ready to put it on?”
“Yes,” I say, hurrying toward her. “And the test?”
“I left it in the car,” she says. “My hands were full. I’ll grab it in a few, but maybe you shouldn’t take it before the wedding. You can’t change the outcome now, and if it’s positive, it will affect you.”
“You’re right. I want to just think about him right now. And you know. I can’t be pregnant. I drank wine. I got tipsy. That would be bad.”
She steps in front of me and settles her hands on my arms. “People drink a glass of wine here and there while pregnant now. They allow it.”
“But I got tipsy.”
“You are fine. You aren’t going to get sloppy drunk all the time. You aren’t going to drink at all, I can tell.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Think about the wedding.”
“Yes. I love Shane.”
“And he loves you, so think about Shane.” She glances at her watch. “The photographer will be here any minute.” She releases me. “Go now. Hurry and dress.”
I move to a curtain she’s set up and quickly change into cream-colored thigh-highs and a lacy bra and panty set I bought for today. My strappy pink heels are next and then the dress. My final touch is my mother’s bracelet. If only she could be here now. I’ve barely stepped out from behind the curtain before Jessica frets over my hair and makeup before declaring me “beautiful.”
And just in time, as the photographer arrives, and for thirty minutes he’s turning me left and right, snapping shots. Finally he’s done, and Cody steps onto the plane in a tuxedo. Jessica grabs my arm. “Hello, Latin lover,” she murmurs softly, which draws a much-needed laugh.
“The preacher is here,” he says. “Shane’s talking to him, and then we’ll have the three of them join us.”
“Okay.” I breathe out, soft music beginning to play, but I don’t hear the words. Seth steps onto the plane in a tuxedo, followed by the man I assume to be the preacher. I assume right, because he rushes to me and shakes my hand, but I barely hear him. I’m nervous and excited and Shane … I just want Shane.
Jessica directs everyone to their positions, and the attendant who’d given me the note walks up to me and hands me a gorgeous bouquet of pink roses. “Thank you,” I whisper, and when she steps aside, Shane is standing there, looking incredible in a tuxedo—the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. And the warmth in his eyes is overwhelming. My heart swells, and when he steps to my side and takes my hand, I have never felt the love I feel for him for anyone. I have never felt as loved as I feel in this moment. The ceremony is short, simple, our vows of love and forever spoken for us and no one else. The kiss he gives me is passionate, intense.
And when it’s over, it’s a beginning, not an end. We share hugs with everyone, and right before Jessica leaves, she hands me a gift bag. She then hugs me and whispers, “Whatever the result, it’s the right result.”
She leaves and the doors shut. I walk to Shane and he grabs the bottle sticking out of the top of the ice bucket. “Sparkling cider?”
My eyes go wide and I swallow hard. “I’ve been sick.”
“I thought that passed?”
“It didn’t.”
“Are you saying…”
“I don’t know. I took a test last week and it was negative and I’ve been taking my birth control, but I started thinking about the hospital and right when I got home. And, Shane, I didn’t start my period today.” I pull the box from the bag. “Jessica brought me another test. I don’t think I can be, but—”
“Take another test,” he says. “Go take it.”
“Yes. Okay.”
I walk to the bathroom and he follows me, standing outside the door as I go inside. I tear open the box and I’m shaking a little inside and out.
“Did you take it?” he asks.
“Just now. It’s…” My eyes go wide and he opens the door.
“It’s what?”
I turn to face him. “It’s—I’m—”
“We’re pregnant,” he supplies, clearly able to form the words that I cannot.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Are you—”
He pulls me to him and kisses me. “Happy? Yes. I am. I didn’t expect to be, but I am. Because you, Emily Brandon, are my wife and soon to be the mother of my child. Because, somehow, you manage to give me everything I don’t know I want and prove it’s everything I do want and even need.”
And I think I might cry if I could stop smiling and if he wasn’t kissing me again.