A Lowcountry Wedding (33 page)

Carson shook her head. “Not today, thanks. I’ll reschedule.” She glanced down the line of chairs, nailing Mamaw and Granny James with a hard gaze. “I’d rather come alone.”

Being married means we’re in it together. Married couples ought to protect each other by being fair and generous in all ways, including financially.

T
he moon was rising over Sullivan’s Island, bringing with it an ethereal glow that rivaled that of the shimmering stars. Despite the glory of the night, however, not all was peaceful on the earth below.

At Sea Breeze, Harper stood at her bedroom window staring out at the Cove. She never tired of the way moonlight seemed to dance over the water. The sight usually calmed her, but tonight she felt as though the water were dark and stormy and she were being tossed about as helplessly as a piece of driftwood.

She closed the slats of the plantation shutters and let her glance take in the small anteroom that was attached to the master bedroom, the silver-framed photographs of the family
on bookshelves and tables. When Mamaw lived here, this had been her sitting room. Harper fondly recalled the many heart-to-hearts she’d shared with her grandmother in the cushy upholstered chairs here. Mamaw had surprised Harper the summer before by redecorating the sitting room into a bedroom so that Harper would have her own room at Sea Breeze. Mamaw had put in sliding doors to separate the two rooms, effectively cutting off half of her own space, just for her granddaughter. And now, only a year later, the room was undergoing another change.

This was going to be Harper’s baby’s nursery. She was filled with butterflies whenever she thought of her sweet infant soon to be in this room. It was empty now, painted a soft gray and white. Harper walked across the soft white carpet, imagining where she would put the baby’s crib, the changing table. Would she highlight the room with the color pink or blue? She smiled, knowing they’d wait till the baby’s birth to find out.

Harper looked beyond the nursery to her bed. Taylor lay there reading a book, bare chested and wearing only flannel pajama bottoms, as was his way. He saved the matching tops for Harper—on her small frame they went almost to her knees. Her heart filled with love for him. That’s how she saw them, two parts of the same piece. How was she going to ask him for a prenup? Would he accept it without a care? Or would it be like a knife that cut the fabric that bound them? She sighed heavily and brought her hands to her face.

The bedroom was aglow with soft yellow light from bedside lamps on either side of the bed. She switched off the lamp on her side of the bed, then climbed in. Taylor absently reached
out to slip his strong arm around her and tug her close. She nestled against his broad chest, her cheek against his skin.

Harper stared at nothing as she reviewed the events of the day in her mind. She’d hoped the visit to the bridal salon with her grandmothers and sisters would have been the springboard for the joy of the wedding season. She’d pictured them loving her dress, fawning over every detail of it as she had when she’d first put it on.

It’s not you,
Carson had said.

It doesn’t fit the beach theme of the wedding
was Granny James’s opinion.

And Mamaw’s old-fashioned ideas, straight from an ancient
Emily Post’s Etiquette
book, simply hurt.

Only Dora had been kind, clearly recalling how sensitive and vulnerable the bride could feel, posing in a dress with her heart on her sleeve. She’d never forget Dora’s support. When she’d tried to thank her privately after the appointment, Dora had kissed her cheek and told her it was simply payback for the kindness Harper had shown her the previous summer at a certain dress salon. Sisters, Harper thought. What would she do without them?

And Harper knew that Carson always had her back. Harper trusted her. The hard truth was that, after all the comments, Harper had felt uncomfortable in the gown she’d selected, as if she were wearing someone else’s dress. Someone younger, more naïve—the very word that Mamaw had used. Harper knew she was many things—smart, occasionally timid, reserved, and, yes, perhaps she did possess a certain innocence, but she was
not
naïve. Perhaps Carson had been right. The
dress was not
her.
Harper could no longer see herself walking down the aisle in it.

Taylor shifted his gaze from his book and kissed the top of her head. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t sleep?”

At the sound of his master’s voice, Thor stopped his sonorous snoring and abruptly lifted his head, ears alert.

“No,” Harper replied in a broken voice.

Taylor lowered his book and turned slightly to face Harper. With his finger, he lifted her chin to study her face. Harper tried to look away, but his hand was firm. He frowned when he saw the tears.

“What’s the matter?” he repeated, this time with intent. “More wedding woes? Because if it is, I swear, Harper, we’ll elope. I don’t want you upset by all this nonsense. It’s not good for the baby. I don’t care about how we get married. I just want to make you my wife. The sooner the better.”

Harper offered a tremulous smile filled with gratitude. “It’s not the wedding that has me upset. Well, not entirely.” She paused, remembering the afternoon. “We all went to the salon today. Me, the girls, and grandmothers. I showed them my dress.” She paused. “They hated it.”

Taylor seemed surprised, even angry. “Who the hell cares? You’re the one wearing it.”

“I know. But now, I hate it, too.”

“Don’t let them bully you. It’s your dress. I’ll love it no matter what.”

She didn’t respond. She appreciated his support, even expected it. But she didn’t want to discuss her wedding dress with him. Bless his heart, but he didn’t know the first thing
about wedding dresses. She patted his chest idly, finding strength. Rather than get distracted by the dress, she wanted to bring up the topic at the forefront of her mind.

She moved from the crook of his arm to sit cross-legged beside him. The pajama top rode high up her thighs. Harper tugged at the sheet, covering her legs. Seeing that she was intending a serious discussion, Taylor marked his place in the book and put it on the bedside table, then turned to give her his complete attention.

She felt the power of his green-eyed gaze and licked her lips, finding the strength to continue. “Today was tough. Aside from what happened with the dress, to start off, this morning I had tea with Granny James, and she came up with the brilliant suggestion that we call my mother to tell her the baby news.”

“What?” Taylor sounded both surprised and angry.

“I know. Stupid, but we did. Mummy was cool at first, which was no surprise. But then, when I told her about the baby, she actually said she was happy for me. And congratulations. That’s all it took for me to melt into a blubbering pool. I was so
grateful.
Can you imagine? Grateful my mother told me congratulations. Oh, Taylor, when will I ever learn?”

Taylor shook his head in sympathy, eyes trained on her, his facial expression unmoving but his green gaze glowing like embers in a fire.

“Then she used the baby to make me feel like it was my responsibility to take over Greenfields Park for Granny and Papa. That’s when I lost it. I told her off.” Harper smiled at him. “It felt good.”

Taylor’s face softened and he leaned in to kiss her. His lips
were soft yet strong, comforting. “That’s my girl. I knew you had it in you. I don’t mind telling you, that was a long time coming.”

“Yeah.” Though inside Harper’s heart, she didn’t feel her struggles with her mother were over. Far from it. She looked over at Taylor. His handsome face was relaxed again and he leaned back against his pillows. “Taylor, there’s one more thing. My grandmother wants us to sign a prenuptial agreement.” Harper didn’t mean to blurt it out like this. She’d practiced how she would broach the subject, but the words just tumbled out.

Taylor’s eyes widened, but he didn’t comment. He moved back into an upright position, resting his elbows on his thighs, and stared unseeingly at some point in the room, silently taking in all that the words implied.

At length he said with a short laugh, “Have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Nor did I.”

“Explain, please.”

Taylor was always most calm and succinct when he was tense. This was but one of the many things she’d learned about this man during the past year. Things such as how he liked her to fall asleep on his shoulder at night, the slanted gaze he sent her way when she was teasing him, his stoic silence when he was angry, how he didn’t like cologne and yet smelled so good just with shaving cream, the way his brows creased when he concentrated or was worried, the idle way he stroked Thor’s head when the dog sat beside him, and the way he let his fingertips glide along her arm when she talked to him. He was
extraordinarily thoughtful and kind. It was as though with his being so large, his gentleness provided balance.

“It started with Granny telling me that she sold Greenfields Park. I know,” Harper said, seeing Taylor’s surprise. “That’s huge. And with Papa Jeffrey in the home without mental acuity, Granny’s in the process of making significant changes to her will.” Harper took a breath. “She suggested—more like demanded—that we have a prenuptial agreement in place as soon as possible.”

His gaze hardened. “Demanded, huh?” He reached back and grabbed a pillow and squeezed it in his hands. “I wish I could say I was surprised by that. She’s never fully believed I’m not after you for your money.”

“No, Taylor, that’s not it at all. She loves you. She even told me that she had faith that you’d have no problem with this because you’re so strong and practical. And you love me. Granny is just looking toward the future. She has to. She has a huge estate to protect. The way she put it is that by doing this, family money stays in the family to be passed down from generation to generation.” Harper had been thinking about this all afternoon, and the idea of a prenup was beginning to make sense to her. “Why should all that my grandparents built be at risk when someone new marries into the family?”

“At risk? That’s how you see marrying me?” Taylor tossed the pillow across the room.

“No!” Harper suddenly felt sick. She could see Taylor beginning to blow up. This was her worst nightmare coming true. “Of course not. I love you. I trust you.”

“But you don’t trust me with your money.”

“I do!” Harper cried, and put her hands over her face. “I don’t care about my money. You know that. I never have. But it’s not just the money, can’t you see? It’s the estate, the family property. That’s more important than just money. Granny James is rather insisting. Oh, Taylor, I don’t know what I should do.”

Taylor rubbed his forehead with agitation, then let his hand drop. He reached out again to bring Harper close to his chest. She slunk into his arms and wrapped hers around him.

“I don’t want this to come between us,” she said miserably.

“It won’t,” he said in a low voice. “We won’t let it.”

Harper sniffed and wiped her eyes, feeling suddenly a world better.

“It’s just the way I see it,” Taylor continued, “is being married means we’re in it together. Married couples ought to protect each other by being fair and generous in all ways, including financially. So it strikes me that starting our marriage with financial negotiations and withholding property isn’t a very good way to begin a relationship that should be built on love, trust, and mutual protection.”

“I agree with the heart of what you’re saying. Really, I do, and I said just as much to my sisters earlier this afternoon. If I weren’t the heir to the James estate, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. But the fact is, I am. That puts a different slant on things. But a prenup would be simply protecting property that has been in my family for generations.”

“Still, there’s no way it won’t disturb the balance of power in our marriage. You’ll control all of our finances. I’ll always feel like it’s your money at the end of the day, your decisions. That’ll make me feel less than an equal partner.”

“Taylor, Sea Breeze is already in my name and you don’t have a problem with that.”

He looked at her, his brow raised mockingly. “I don’t?”

“What?” she exclaimed, shocked. “Do you?”

“Of course I do. But your grandmother bought you this place. What was I going to say? No, I won’t live here with you?”

“I’m going to repay Granny once I get my trust fund.”

“What difference does it make? I didn’t buy the house. Nor could I. Not in several lifetimes. And you using
your
trust-fund money”—Harper didn’t miss the emphasis he placed on
your
—“to repay your grandmother won’t make Sea Breeze feel any more like mine. Like ours.”

“Don’t you like living here?”

“What’s not to like? Except,
it feels like I’m living in
your
house. Because, frankly, it is.”

“I didn’t know that’s how you saw things.” The words slowly dropped into her brain like stones into a deep, empty well. She was silent a moment, then asked in a whisper, “Do you want to move? Is that what you want?”