Loved by You (23 page)

“That’s a genius idea.”

She knocked his shoulder. “Don’t gloat.”

He smiled. “It’s difficult not to.”

“Are you going to be smug forever?” Truthfully, she didn’t mind if it meant seeing that endearing smile for the rest of her life.

“Just for a little while.”

“Well, it’s good I love you, then.”

He stilled.

She batted her eyelashes, which were thick with goop. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“Actually, I don’t think you did.”

She looked into his eyes and sang

Strange dear, but true dear,

When I’m close to you, dear,

The stars fill the sky,

So in love with you am I.

He dropped his forehead against hers, squeezing her tight. “My mom used to sing that to my dad.”

“And now we’re going to carry on the tradition in our family.”

His grip tightened on her. “I love you,” he whispered huskily, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

Then he let her go so abruptly she stumbled backward. Reaching into his pocket, he scrounged for a moment before pulling out her ring.

She held her hand out wordlessly, and he slipped it back on, where it belonged.

Epilogue

Rosalind Summerhill was never the bride.

Not that she wanted to be—precisely. But for someone who dealt in weddings, she was remarkably removed from the actual day’s affair.

She leaned over the stair railing, a silent witness. Watching the Taylor household in the throes of pulling it together for KT’s wedding, she wondered if it wasn’t a blessing. By all things holy, it was
noisy
.

If she’d had to describe a wedding, she’d have cited candlelight and reverent music, hushed vows and murmured well-wishes. In her parents’ house, no one ever spoke, and the hallways echoed with regrets.

An hour away from the ceremony and the Taylor house was rocking.

Music blasted through the house, a compilation of the family’s songs and other rock greats. Guests were arriving, gathering around the bar. Laughter floated upstairs.

KT’s outraged scream punctured the joy.

Frowning, Rosalind turned around and looked down the hall toward the room where all the women congregated around KT. No one came running out, but she had horrifying images of the wedding dress she’d designed for KT being ruined so she hurried to make sure everything was well.

“Is she okay?” she asked as she stepped into the room.

“Most likely,” Bijou said, standing with the other ladies, a glass of champagne in her hand. “Olivia’s in there with her.”

“Foundation garments can be torture,” Gwen said.

She’d met the funky pixie earlier, but she kept staring at her, marveling the way she pulled off the scarlet dress with her orange hair.

“It’s the price you pay to make your man happy,” the blond author in the silver sheath said. Lola was her name, if Rosalind remembered correctly.

The teenager—Rosalind still couldn’t figure out whether her name was Ashley or Spike, or how she fit into the picture—looked up from the notes she scribbled into a notebook. “KT’s just a drama queen.”

“Amen to that.” Grinning, Bijou held up her glass and all the ladies toasted.

“I heard that,” KT yelled from the behind the closed door.

They all exchanged smiles.

There was a knock at the door and then a male head poked in. “Can anyone join this shindig? I have cookies.”

There was a moment of squawking confusion. Then KT opened the bedroom door and poked her head out. “It’s just Scott, for frick’s sake. Let him in. He has cookies.”

Scott and KT had been best friends for a long time, longer than Rosalind and Bijou had been. For as long as she could remember, when she came home from school with Bijou, Scott was always around. They used to whisper in the dark about him. He’d always been the hot older man.

Bijou winked at her, knowing where her thoughts were. Rosalind smiled unapologetically. Scott had been cute back then, but he’d grown into his looks and layered it with power. It was a heady combination, even recently married as he was.

“Cookie,” KT ordered, holding her hand out.

“You’ll mess up your lipstick,” Bijou pointed out.

Her sister gave her a quelling glare and took the biscuit Scott gave her. “You’re the only one who loves me, Scott.”

“Actually, it’s Celeste who loves you. I just wanted to see you in your underwear.”

KT held her middle finger out to him. Then right before retreating back into the makeshift dressing room, she said, “Spike, did you put on dress combat boots for my wedding? I’m touched.”

The teenager rolled her eyes, but a smile hovered at the edge of her lips.

Scott set the cookies down and picked up the champagne bottle to refill all the glasses. “Do you ladies need anything before I go join the zoo?”

“Is Julie downstairs?” Lola asked.

“She’s checking the flowers one last time.” He smiled, love softening his face. “You know what a perfectionist she is.”

“You all know each other?” Rosalind asked.

Lola laughed. “Laurel Heights is an amazing place.”

“Dali said all the world met at the train station in Perpignan, but he was wrong.” Gwen discarded her grape vine. “It’s Laurel Heights.”

The bedroom door opened again, and Lara Taylor beamed at them. “Rosalind darling, Karma’s ready for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” She knew she was probably the only person in the world to call the famous Lara “Mrs. Taylor” but old habits and ingrained manners didn’t die.

Mrs. Taylor eyed Bijou head to toe. “Bijou’s dress is beautiful, Rosalind.”

“Right?” Bijou said. “I look awesome. I’m sure to get lucky during the reception.”

She glanced at Mrs. Taylor, who laughed as though Bijou had commented on the weather. If she’d said something similar to
her
mother, her mother would have been mortified. Not that she’d have said any such thing. There was a reason the British were noted for their reserve.

Olivia followed Mrs. Taylor out of the room, looking very satisfied. She came over to hug Rosalind—they’d met to confer on KT’s underwear on special request from the groom. “She’s all yours, and I need some of that champagne.”

Rosalind murmured apologies to the group and went to attend to KT.

KT paced at the end of the room. The sun shined in through the window, lighting her hair like a honeyed confection. She wore a white silky robe, low heels, and an annoyed expression.

“Thank goodness.” She rushed to Rosalind and hugged her.

“Why do I feel like it’s not really me you’re happy to see?” Rosalind asked with an amused smile.

“Probably because you know that I know you signal the last of all the torture.” KT grabbed her, imploring. “Make it stop.”

She laughed. “Just remember your lovely man waiting for you.”

“Right.” Frowning, she nodded. “Good point. Okay, let’s get this done.”

Rosalind went to the closet and pulled out the dress she’d hung there earlier. She pulled it out, giving it the reverent due all wedding dresses warranted. Taking it off the hanger, she arranged it on the floor. “Step in carefully.”

KT shrugged out of the robe, revealing a beautiful red strapless bra and matching lacy cheeky panties. She must have sensed Rosalind’s gaze, because as she stepped into the pool of material on the floor, she said, “I know. Chance likes the harlot look.”

Actually, KT looked like a French aristocrat in the expensive lingerie, but Rosalind knew better than to say anything. She focused on gently shimmying the dress up KT’s body and settling it in place. She buttoned it, double-checked how it lay, made sure it fit perfectly, and then nodded. “Look in the mirror.”

They both looked.

KT looked perfect—a little rock star, a little princess, all KT. Lara had wanted lace but she’d capitulated that it’d be too fussy for KT.

Instead, Rosalind had picked a fine tulle that practically floated on its own. It was simple but stunning, with a light sparkle woven into the fabric. There were thin shoulder straps to keep KT from continually hiking up the bodice.

Rosalind looked at the end result of weeks of rushed work and felt an unfamiliar flood of emotion in her chest. She usually wasn’t there to see her creations in real life.

More than that, this day was special. She’d been invited because she was Bijou’s best friend—part of the family, Lara Taylor had said. She couldn’t say how much that’d meant to her.

“I look pretty awesome,” KT finally said. Then she laughed and threw her arms around Rosalind. “I know Mom and Bijou drove you crazy, so thanks for not making me look like a bag lady.”

Laughing, she led KT into the sitting room, where all the women awaited.

They all gasped when they saw her.

Rosalind smiled. Exactly the reaction she strove for.

Bijou sidled up to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “You did good.”

“I know,” she said with a satisfied smile.

“Not that it matters. KT barely showers on a regular basis and she still managed to snag Chance. I think he likes her as she is,” Bijou said drily.

“Chance is a good man.”

“The best, except for Will.” Bijou’s face took on a glow.

It was lovely to see her best friend so happily in love. It was premature, because contrary to what people thought about her, Bijou was cautious and methodical, but Rosalind had already started designing her the dress to top all wedding dresses. Bijou would look like the diva she was.

Since the concert a couple months before, Bijou’s stalled career had taken off. Her old label had offered her a new deal, but in a bold move, Bijou had opted to go with a smaller record company who offered her more creative control. She’d always been a go-getter, but since she met Will she’d become a force.

Rosalind couldn’t have been happier for her. Bijou was a sister to her—certainly closer to her than any of her own sisters. And that was saying something, since she had five.

Bijou ran a hand down her glittery dark pink dress. “Thank you for making me look better than the bride, by the way. Bridesmaid dresses are usually so ugly.”

Rosalind gave her best friend a flat look. “My bridesmaid dresses are always lovely.”

Bijou rolled her eyes. “Yours don’t count, silly.”

Mrs. Taylor clapped her hands together. “Ladies, shall we make our way downstairs?”

As everyone filed out, Bijou stuck a glass of champagne in her sister’s hand. “Drink this now.”

“I hate champagne,” KT said, reluctantly taking it.

“You’ll thank me when you see the crowd downstairs.”

KT downed it then held the glass out. “Another.”

Rosalind knew KT had made progress with her stage fright, but it’d been her companion for so long it was a hard habit to let go. But she’d finally decided to release her music herself. No one seemed to care that she had no desire to perform in front of crowds, least of all the critics, who loved the first concerto she’d just put out.

They filed out of the room, Rosalind trailing behind, observing like she normally did. She’d always been on the outside, even as a child. She usually didn’t mind it—in fact she preferred to be left alone. But sometimes …

“Come on.” Bijou took her hand, drawing her into the party. “I saved you a spot up front with Will.”

They walked with the noisy gaggle, all the way downstairs. Rosalind hugged Bijou, checked KT one last time, and then went to sit next to Will.

Bijou’s boyfriend smiled at her. “They all ready?” he asked.

“Wait until you see her.”

“She always looks stunning,” he said like a man truly in love.

“Yes, but now she’s in one of my dresses.” Not that she expected a man to understand. It took a rare woman to know what exactly she was getting with one of Rosalind’s dresses, and she preferred it that way.

Bijou’s mom had said there weren’t that many people attending, but it certainly looked like it. Lara Taylor never did things halfway though.

A piano commanded everyone’s attention. Rosalind looked, noting with shock it was the goth girl Ashley—or Spike—playing. Lara and Anson began to sing a ballad as they walked down the aisle arm-in-arm. Bijou joined in as she strutted after them.

There was a titter of laughter. Rosalind craned her neck and chuckled when she saw the little pig trotting down the aisle wearing a bow tie. He went directly to Chance’s side and stood there, waiting.

The guests hushed.

Rosalind broke out in goosebumps as everyone gasped at the first sight of KT.
That
was the proper reaction.

KT didn’t look as pleased. In fact, she looked pale. She’d been determined to walk herself down the aisle, but Rosalind wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to have Anson help her.

Chance, his heart in his eyes, left his spot and strode toward her. He stopped halfway and held his hand out.

Love lighting her eyes, she reached out to him and met him halfway.

Rosalind sighed. One day, maybe.

The ceremony was blessedly short. Will kissed her cheek when it was over and went to find Bijou, probably to shag in a hidden corner. She was about to go in search of a glass of wine when her phone vibrated.

It was London—her parents’ number.

She made a face at the screen. It was probably her dad, calling to berate her choices in life. He’d never had a comfortable relationship with any of his daughters, but he and Rosalind had been especially like oil and water. It’d made the decision to move to the States to study fashion that much easier.

She hadn’t been back to London in ten years.

She looked at her phone. Pick it up and subject herself to his ongoing tyranny, or enjoy the moment?

Enjoy the moment.
Duh
, Bijou would add.

Rosalind was about to put the phone away when the call ended and another one came in, this time from her oldest sister Beatrice.

Beatrice
never
called her.

Frowning, curious, she answered. “Bea?”

“Why haven’t you been answering?” her sister said.

No hello. No how are you. Typical. “I’m busy right now, so if this is just a social call—”