Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (47 page)

“I’m superlicious!” squealed Bridget.

Charlotte handed her another red rose. “You are,” she agreed, laughing.

“Why do we have to marry my Daddy today?”

Charli locked her warm brown eyes on mine. “Because we love him.”

Bridget dropped the flowers on her lap and slunk down in her seat, stretching her legs as far as she could in a bid to reach me. Her little booted feet rested on my knees. “We really love you, Daddy.”

I grabbed her feet. “How lucky am I?”

“Very lucky,” she replied. “So much lucky.”

***

The ride to the church didn’t take as long as we’d anticipated. I don’t pretend to know much about wedding etiquette, but something told me that turning up half an hour before the ceremony wasn’t really the done thing.

“We could wait in the car for a while,” I suggested.

“I’m on to you, Adam.” Charli grinned. “We’re going to have to face your parents some time.”

“I’ll hold your hand, Dad,” Bridget offered.

If Bridget thought I needed support, I must’ve really looked nervous.

“You have to, sweetheart,” I replied, forcing a smile. “You’re my best girl.” For the first time that afternoon, I was feeling inconvenienced. Pulling Ryan out of the line of fire meant putting ourselves there instead. I had trouble dealing with my mother at the best of times, and this was not going to be one of the best times. Dealing with my father was worse. We hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and I was enjoying the respite.

The break in drama was effectively over the second we got out of the car. Bridget chose that moment to make a life altering decision. “I really don’t like boots,” she announced.

The shocked look on Charli’s face was warranted. The kid had been wearing galoshes since the day she learned to walk. Trying to convince Bridget to keep them on was pointless. She’d already kicked them off.

I leaned down and picked them up. “What are you going to wear when you walk down the aisle?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Just toes and feet.”

I handed Bridget the boots and scooped her up. “Right then. Toes and feet it is.”

“Can I tell you something too?” asked Charli in a tiny voice.

“Of course,” I replied. “As long as it’s true.”

“I don’t like my shoes either.” She lifted the hem of her dress and looked at her feet. “I want to take them off.”

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “It’s your day,” I reasoned. “I’m pretty sure you can do whatever you want to.”

Charlotte shifted her bouquet to her other hand and pulled off her heels. Bridget found the move hysterical. My tiny girl giggled so hard that keeping a grip on her took work. I hitched her higher on my hip. “Are we good to go now, ladies?”

The driver opened the car door and Charli tossed both pairs of shoes onto the back seat. “Can I tell you something else?” she asked, turning back to me.

“Anything.”

She leaned, resting her hand on Bridget’s back while she whispered in my ear. “I want to go home to the beach.”

I’d been waiting to hear those words for months. Downplaying my joy was impossible but I tried by masking my smile with a kiss. “I love you so very much,” I whispered, resting my forehead against hers.

“Daddy, Mamie’s coming,” announced Bridget, tugging on my jacket.

I straightened up to see my mother barrelling along the sidewalk. “No, no, no!” she cried. “Where’s your brother?”

I glanced back at Charli before replying. “There’s been a change of plans, Ma.”

Mom stood in front us, looking Charli up and down. There was no need to explain. The wedding dress clued her in quickly. “You’re getting married?” she asked shakily.

“We’re the understudies.” Charlotte passed her bouquet off to me and grabbed Mom’s hands.

I’d been trying to pre-empt the queen’s reaction for hours. I expected wailing. What I didn’t expect was the unladylike swearing that accompanied it.

“What’s wrong with you boys?” she growled. “Why can’t you just be normal? I raised imbeciles!”

Charli gallantly braved the outburst by holding her hands tighter. “Everything is fine,” she assured. “There will be a wedding today. We hope you’ll be a part of it.”

Mom snatched her hands free. “Of course I will.” She smoothed down the sides of her pale blue dress. “I’ve waited long enough for this, don’t you think?”

“You look lovely, Mamie.” Bridget’s comment came at just the right time.

Mom softened in an instant. “Thank you, darling,” she crowed, reaching to pinch her cheeks. “You do too. Where are your boots?”

Bridget twisted in my arms, lifting her foot. “I took them off. I really hate boots.”

Dumbstruck, Mom glanced at me, then Charli.

“We’re moving on to a new phase, Mamie,” beamed Charlotte.

That might’ve been an opportune time to mention that we were flying the coop again, but neither of us did.

Mom reached out and began fussing with Charli’s hair. “You look beautiful, darling,” she praised. “But you always do.”

Charlotte tugged at her dress, probably making sure her feet were hidden. Mom would’ve rescinded the compliment if she’d known she ditched her shoes.

“Is Ryan alright?” asked Mom, turning to me.

Jumping to the conclusion that my brother had been jilted at the altar was a reasonable leap. The real story was far less believable.

“He’s fine,” I assured. “Bente got a little overwhelmed. They opted for a quickie civil service.”

She nodded, resigned. “I just want them to be happy,” she said solemnly.

“I’m happy, Mamie,” interjected Bridget cheerily. “I’m getting married to my Daddy today.”

“Yes, my darling,” she replied, perking up in an instant. “You are.”

“I’m the best girl.”

My mom took a moment to think things through. Over the years, she’d become adaptable too. A four-year-old best girl wasn’t too hard to come to terms with. “I think you and I should head inside,” she suggested, outstretching her arms.

Bridget leaned forward, falling into her Mamie’s arms. After fussing with her hair, Mom lowered Bridget to her feet and straightened her dress. “Quick, darling.” She took her hand. “It’s too cold out here for little girls.”

Neither of us said a word as we watched them disappear through the front doors of the church, heading into the great unknown. I had no idea what sort of production we were about to take part in, but I knew it was huge.

Guests started filing through the doors, and the only person I recognised was Mrs Brown. She gave us a quick wave and both of us waved back.

I leaned closer to Charlotte. “Do you want to make a run for it?”

“No,” she replied quietly. “We can do this.”

I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “You really do look beautiful in that dress.”

“Despite the bare feet?”

“I like you barefoot.” I dipped my head, chasing her lips. “Although, I’d prefer you barefoot and pregnant – in our little cottage on the beach.”

She smiled slyly. “You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?”

“I know when it’s time to change course, Charlotte.” I breathed the words into her hair. “It’s been a tough few months for us. We deserve better times.”

“Regrets?”

I tilted my head, half shrugging. “No, just an overwhelming desire to get back to normal. Our normal isn’t in New York.”

33. Backup Plan

Charli

We hadn’t seen Jean-Luc in weeks, and there would be no escaping him today. Adam’s hackles went up the instant he spotted him. I wasn’t quite so tense.

“My children and their stupid schemes,” he announced, throwing his arms wide as he walked toward us. I was actually glad that was his opening remark. It meant the queen had already clued him in and we didn’t have to explain.

“This is a happy day, Dad,” Adam grumbled. “Don’t make a scene.”

“I have no intention of doing any such thing.” Jean-Luc stopped in front of us and tightly folded his arms. “Am I still giving the bride away?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’m not walking that big aisle by myself.”

Adam wasn’t thrilled to be handing me over. Hearing him lay down the law wasn’t unexpected. It was a given. “If you so much as insult a hair on her head – ”

“You should go inside, Adam,” Jean-Luc interrupted coolly. “Bridget was dismantling the flower arrangements on the altar when I left.”

I didn’t doubt for a second it was true. “Adam, go,” I urged, shooing him away with my bouquet. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

He stiffly nodded a few times, looking completely torn. “Don’t be too long.”

I wondered what he thought was going to happen.

Jean-Luc waited until Adam began walking away, and then called him back. His constant need to get the last word in infuriated me, but I held my tongue and waited for him to speak. So did Adam.

“You must take her rings,” said Jean-Luc. “It won’t be a proper ceremony without an exchange of rings.”

Of course, he was right. I tucked my bouquet under my arm and slipped them off my finger. “Don’t let Bridge hold them,” I warned, handing them to Adam.

“I won’t.” He finally smiled. “She’s got nowhere to stash them now that she’s ditched the boots.”

***

I didn’t complain when Jean-Luc suggested we wait a few more minutes before heading inside. I was hardly an excited bride. Adam and I had no interest in walking down the aisle. We were merely taking one for the team – a notion that the king quickly picked up on.

“This is not really your scene is it, Charli?” he asked.

“The wedding or New York in general?”

He dropped his head, but I still saw his sly smile. “I think you’ve adapted remarkably well this time around.”

“We’re leaving, you know,” I warned. “I’m going to steal your precious boy away again.”

Jean-Luc didn’t seem alarmed by the threat at all. “He hasn’t been ours for years, Charlotte,” he replied dryly. “Time away will do you good. I think you probably need it after the events of the past few months.”

I did need it, and the only way he could’ve known that was if he’d been told. “You know?”

Jean-Luc slowly nodded. “Life is full of defining moments, Charli,” he said gently. “I hope you don’t count that as one of yours.”

I scowled. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.” I was too busy plotting what I was going to do to my bigmouth husband when I got hold of him.

“No, perhaps
your
father might be the better option,” he said awkwardly.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” I mumbled.

My father-in-law wasn’t renowned for heartfelt pep talks. The rare moment was gauche and uncomfortable. Jean-Luc folded his arms, glanced back at the huge church and wisely changed the subject. “I wasn’t joking about Bridget and the flowers,” he said. “She was stripping red roses from the floral arrangements. I can only assume she knows something we don’t.”

“Bridget knows a lot of things you don’t,” I grumbled. “I made her that way.”

“She’s part Décarie,” he insisted.

“Only the good parts.” My catty comment didn’t faze him at all. He would’ve expected no less from me.

“I heard that Ryan reinstated her wings,” he commented. “I’m pleased.”

He must’ve been lying. The king was usually the biggest opponent of all things La La.

“You and I don’t fluff around and pretend to be polite to each other, Jean-Luc,” I reminded. “It’s one of the things I like best about you. Please don’t ruin it.”

He shook his head. “I’m not trying to be polite. I admire Bridget’s desire to fly. I always encourage ambition.”

I couldn’t argue. It was the only thing he did encourage. We were quiet for a long moment. I had nothing more to say, but Jean-Luc seemed to be working up to something else. I shuffled from foot to foot, trying to find relief from the freezing pavement while I waited.

“When Adam was young, he was a terribly restless sleeper,” he said finally. “He’d throw himself out of bed some nights. It used to terrify his mother.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “He didn’t grow out of it until Bridget was born,” I told him. “He hasn’t been restless in a while.”

“He used to dream he was chasing something,” he explained, frowning slightly. “We asked him time and time again what it was, but he didn’t know. Quite odd, don’t you think?”

“Why would it be odd?”

“Well, it would’ve made more sense if something was chasing him.”

I shook my head, suddenly realising the much deeper picture. Adam had been running for most of his life, always trying to catch up to the life his parents had mapped out for him. He only stopped running when his daughter was born.

“Every night I’d line a stack of pillows on the floor next to his bed to cushion his fall,” Jean-Luc continued. “Running while sleeping is only foolhardy if you have no backup plan. I assume the same rules apply to flying, at least that’s what I told Bridget.”