The Best Of February 2016. Catherine Mann
I said, she was right to be annoyed with me.”
“Again. No. You are the member of the royal family here. If you want to take until the day before the wedding to choose your dress, that’s what you do. Then they scramble.”
She laughed.
He sat beside her on the sofa. “So, are you really happy with the designer you chose?”
She shrugged. “He’s as good as any.”
He caught her chin and nudged her to face him. “As good as any isn’t good enough. I want you to be happy the day you get married. It may not be forever, but it’s your first wedding.”
“That’s what I keep thinking.”
“So what would you do if you were getting married for keeps?”
“I’d have a lot of pink roses.”
“What else?”
“My two friends would be bridesmaids.”
“You can have that.” He sipped his Scotch. “What else?”
“I don’t know. I always imagined my mom and me picking things out.” She peeked up at him. “She has great taste.”
He laughed. “Really?”
“Well, actually, we have about the same taste. But picking a gown is just something a girl wants to do with her mom. You know. Second opinion and all that.” She took a deep breath, blew it out, then looked Dom in the eye. “My picture is going to go around the world. I’d like for it to be a good one.”
He nodded. “That’s something I’m so accustomed to I forget that others aren’t.” He rose from the sofa. “I have a dinner meeting tonight that’s going to segue into a bigger meeting with several members of parliament. Why don’t you call your friends on Skype and invite them to be your bridesmaids?”
She looked up at him, her eyes round and blue and honest. She was one of the most naturally beautiful women he’d ever met. She was also being a much better sport about this marriage than a lot of women would be. She hadn’t asked for anything. She just did as she was told. And if she didn’t talk to him, maybe that was his fault? He’d told her not to expect a long, happy marriage. If she held herself back, maybe that’s what she felt she needed to do.
“Really? I can have bridesmaids?”
“As many as you want.” On impulse he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Would a wedding without bridesmaids really look authentic?”
She shook her head.
“So call them.”
* * *
Ginny watched Dom leave the sitting room and head for his bedroom suite, fighting that feeling again. Except this time, she named it. She wasn’t worried about liking him or even being attracted to him. What she was feeling—or maybe recognizing—was that he was a nice guy. A good person. She thanked God he’d reminded her that the wedding needed to “look” authentic to serve his purpose. Otherwise, she might have melted right there at his feet.
She could resist the solemn guy, the one who would be king someday, who wanted everything to be perfect. The other guy, the sweet one who tried to make her happy? That was the guy who had been staring at her in the elevator. The one she’d wanted to kiss. He was the one she had to watch out for.
She returned to her room, found her laptop and connected with her two best friends on Skype. They knew she was pregnant, of course. She’d gone to them for guidance. She’d also called them the day she’d fainted, when she’d agreed to marry Dom. They were not surprised to be receiving invitations to be bridesmaids.
That little piece of normalcy lifted her spirits. It wasn’t going to be a real marriage but it was going to be a real wedding, and she was going to look pretty and have her friends with her. They would keep her occupied the week before the big day. And, in a good mood, she’d be better able to look happy for the ceremony.
The next morning at breakfast, she showed her appreciation to Dominic by asking him how his meetings had gone the night before.
He winced. “There are one or two people who fear we are making an alliance with the United States by bringing you into the royal family.”
She laughed. When he didn’t, she said, “Really? Seriously? They think marrying a commoner from the United States is a lead-in to a treaty?”
“My brother will be marrying a woman as part of a treaty. Why would you be surprised our government is questioning my marriage?”
She shook her head and went back to her oatmeal. “I forget that your country looks at marriage differently.”
“It’s not really my country that looks at marriage differently. It’s the royal family and what’s expected of us. I’ll be spending weeks alleviating the fears of several members of parliament, assuring them that our marriage is not part of a big master plan.”
Taking a bite of oatmeal, she nodded. “I get it. It’s something you shouldn’t think you have to do, but you will. Just like I’ll be spending two hours with Sally’s staff today, learning how to curtsy.”
“I thought curtsying was out. Old school. Something nobody did anymore.”
“According to Sally’s morning memo, there are some small eastern European countries that still believe in it. I just hope we don’t run into any of those royal families when I’m big-as-a-house pregnant. I can’t imagine curtsying and balancing twenty-five pounds of stomach.”
He laughed. “You’re going to make an interesting princess.”
“Lucky for you, it’s only for a little over two years.”
He said, “Uh-huh,” and went back to reading his newspaper.
Ginny didn’t care. Their conversation proved that she could talk to the “nice” Dominic and not get carried away. They did not have to be best friends. But they did have to get along. They had to look good together in public. They needed to know enough about each other that their charade appeared to be real. And this morning it was clear they were succeeding.
If there was a little rumble in her heart about wasting her wedding, a beautiful wedding, on a fake marriage, she silenced it. She’d never imagined herself getting married. Living with her dad had scared her off that. She’d never allow herself to let her guard down with a man enough to get serious enough to get married. So this was her wedding. Her one shot at being a bride. She’d be a fool not to make it as perfect as she could.
At four o’clock that afternoon, Dom unexpectedly returned to the apartment. As they had the day before, Joshua and Sally sat on the sofa across from her. The photo arrays and designer lists were with them.
She faced the door with a smile. “I thought you had more glad-handing to do.”
He walked in and said, “I do. But I was the one who told Sally and Joshua to bring the designer lists up to you again. I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.”
“They told me you said I wasn’t sure about the designer.” She bit her lip, not happy that something she’d told him had become an issue.
He caught her gaze. “I want you to be sure.”
The feeling whooshed through her again. The one that told her he was looking out for her because he was a nice guy. He might not love her. He might not even know her well enough to like her. But he was a nice enough guy that he wanted her to be happy.
“Okay.”
Even as she said that, the big double doors of Dominic’s apartment opened. “Ginny?”
Ginny’s head snapped up. “Mom?”
She blinked as she saw her tall, slim mother race into the sitting room from the echoing foyer. Wearing a tan