Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(55)

Then I stop and open the drawers.

I step out of my underwear and set it on the side chair with my clothes, and avoid looking at myself in the mirror as I go through the lingerie in the drawers.

I find a lacy white thong in my size and pull it on. Unable to resist, I stand back and twist a little so I can see how it looks on, or rather exposing, my butt.

I feel kinda sexy.

As I adjust it I realize the front is split, for, um, access. I smirk to myself as I figure out how to put on a garter belt, having never worn one before, and white silk stockings. From the drawer I choose a lacy strapless bra that will work with the dress, then take it down and step into it, pulling it up to my chest. It won’t stay up and I can’t do up the laces myself, so I have no choice but to knock on the door.

Marilyn comes back and starts lacing me up without a beat. I suck in a breath as the dress tightens around my stomach.

I… I have cleavage. I haven’t worn a dress like this, well, ever. The scar on the upper part of my chest is visible, but I can’t stop staring at my boobs.

“You look great, honey.”

“You’re just saying that.”

She sighs. “I’ve been through this before. You do look great. Worried about your guy?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

I sigh. “Jack.”

Marilyn guides me to another chair and starts brushing out my hair. “Too bad I have to do a rush job, you have such lovely auburn hair. Would look great with a little more red in it. I’m going to braid it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, your Jack is a keeper, trust me. I’ve worked here for five years. I’ve seen more weddings than half a dozen priests do in their whole lifetime. I know if it’s real or not, trust me. He’s got that look.”

“What look?”

“See these?” she pokes her ample cleavage from the side, making her breasts jiggle. “He didn’t even take one look. When they look it’s going to go bad. I just know.”

I start to smile. She’s finished tying my hair in a loose braid and helps me with the veil.

“We don’t have rings.”

“We’ll take care of that. He’s getting in a tux right now. Here’s your bouquet.”

She sets it in my lap and I grab it, squeezing the stems tightly in my hand. It’s plastic, I realize, sprayed with something to make it smell flowery.

“I’ll be right back,” she says. “Sit tight, or pace. Either one is fine.”

I opt for pacing. I practice that slow walk brides are supposed to do. I look at myself in the mirror with a veil over my face. I start to tremble.

I want to be with Jack forever but I wanted more than this.

I want what I can’t have. I want my mom and dad to be here. To see me walk down the aisle and stand with Jack and be bound to him until death do us part. I want what my life should have been.

My uneasiness grows when Marilyn comes back for me. She knocks first then opens the door and leads me up to the altar.

The wedding will be performed by Elvis.

Not the one at the door, another one. Evidently the first one will be standing in for my father. Another one will be Jack’s best man, and Marilyn is my maid of honor. A smattering of Elvii and some strangers sit in the pews in the chapel. A pair of them are the couple that came before us, I think.

Then Jack comes out with an Elvis trailing him. He stops when he sees me, and his jaw drops. I suck in a breath and I can’t let it out.

No, this isn’t a mistake. This is right. Best Man Elvis almost has to stop Jack running up to the altar. He walks up and stands opposite me, and Elvis…Priest Elvis props open a thick volume on his hands.

“Dearly beloved,” he booms in his perfect accent, “we are gathered here today to join Jack Marshall and Ellie Roberts in holy matrimony.”

He looks around. “If anyone here should have reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

We stand nervously for a few seconds, and then he goes on.

“Have you the rings?”

Jack fishes one out of his pocket and drops it into my right hand. I have to pin the bouquet against my chest with my bad hand. Marilyn quickly snatches it from me and winks.

“Jack, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to seek comfort from no other but her, and keep her first in your heart, so long as both of you shall live?”

“Yes.”

“Jack, place the ring on the third finger of her left…right hand.”

I start to shake as Jack takes my hand. I turn my palm up so I don’t drop his ring, and he slips mine onto my finger.

“Ellie, do you take this man to be your wedded husband, and do all the stuff I just said?”

“I do.”

“Ring.”

I slip the ring on Jack’s hand.

“You may kiss the—”

Elvis hasn’t even finished his sentence by the time Jack pulls me into his arms, yanks the veil away, and kisses me. Hard. A chest-fluttering, knee-buckling, I-can-barely-breathe kiss.

“Easy now, save the honeymoon for the hotel room.”

He holds his hands above our heads.

“What has been joined together today, let no man put asunder. Pictures!”