Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (46 page)

“I’ll be there, Jasmine,” grumbled Charli. “But I’m not wearing the hat.”

* * *

She did wear the hat. And as expected, it looked ridiculous. I just wasn’t brave enough to tell her. I caught my first glimpse of it when I returned to the cottage after dropping Bridget at Alex and Gabrielle’s for the day.

“If you laugh, I’m going to kill you,” she warned, running her hand across the top of the feathers sprouting from the tiny top hat.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I replied, holding up my hands.

There was something remarkably odd about seeing her all gussied up, Beautiful style. I hadn’t known a dress could be glittery, pink and shiny all at the same time. She looked radioactive.

“I can hardly breathe in this thing,” she said, putting her hands to her stomach.

“Maybe I should help you take it off, then,” I suggested, swooping my arms around her and dipping her backwards. It was a good move on my part. The stupid hat fell off and hit the floor.

She put her hand to her head. “You broke it,” she moaned. “Do you know many hot pink chickens had to die to make that hat?”

I righted her, threw her over my shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom. Jasmine’s decision to put the zipper on the front of her trashy bridesmaid dresses helped me immensely.

“Adam,” breathed Charli, “I just got dressed.”

Her protest was weak considering she did nothing to stop me. “So did I.”

She dragged off my tie. “Who taught you to tie a tie?” she asked irrelevantly.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember,” I mumbled against her skin. I was a Décarie. I was probably born wearing a tie. “Who taught you to be so lovely?”

Both of her hands moved to my face and her warm brown eyes locked mine. “You did.”

I couldn’t speak. I could still move, though. I dragged the horrid pink dress off her and tossed it on the floor.

“If you had any idea how long it took me to get that contraption on, you wouldn’t have done that,” she told me.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve, Charlotte,” I replied dropping my head to kiss her.

* * *

I’d been to a lot of high society events in my time but nothing compared to the wedding of Jasmine and Wade.

It was taking place at the local church. The limestone building had the same old-world charm as the bank, which meant the wedding should’ve been equally as elegant and classy. I realised early on that this wasn’t going to happen. The pink carpet path leading to the door was the first giveaway.

Meeting the rest of the bridal party at the church wasn’t conventional, but it was the only way Jasmine was going to get her sixth bridesmaid. I offered to wait outside with Charli but she insisted I go inside. “They’ll be here in a minute,” she assured, fussing with her stupid chicken hat. She looked like she was gearing up to run.

“No flee-itis?” I teased.

Charli handed me her bouquet to free up her hands while she straightened my tie. “None. I’m cured.”

I wasn’t convinced but I left her there anyway, armed with nothing more than a good luck kiss.

I regretted my decision to go inside the second I walked through the door. Pink flowers, silver streamers and glitter decorated every surface. It was sensory overload. And never before had I seen an arbour of balloons decorating an altar.

I had no idea which side of the church to sit at. The choice was made for me when a lady wearing a big straw hat shuffled along the back pew and patted her hand on the space she’d made.

It seemed a long time before the show began. Someone hit play on the sound system and a mediocre version of Ave Maria filled the air. Everyone turned their heads toward the back of the church in time to see the first of the wedding party come in. Bridesmaids one through five floated through the door, arm in arm with their partners. They looked like amped-up showgirls, and every groomsman looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Groomsman number three seemed to be handling it best, mainly because he looked drunk.

My eyes were glued on bridesmaid number six. It didn’t even bother me that she’d been partnered with Flynn. My beautiful girl looked poised, confident and totally unfazed, despite the two-dollar hooker look she was working. She winked as she drifted past, sending my thoughts in a totally inappropriate direction considering we were in church.

I quickly recovered when the bride walked in. Cracked-out Scarlett O’Hara looked like she’d been hit at close range with a shotgun load of chintz and diamantes. Her dress was so wide that her father had to walk behind her so she’d make it up the narrow aisle. Everyone oohed and ahhed, probably in disbelief, and I had no problem hearing Meredith’s attention-seeking sobs from the back pew.

The ceremony began and my interest waned. Things dragged on forever, making me wish I’d brought a book or Bridget to keep me company. By the time it ended, I was happy to get out.

My plan to reclaim my wife and make a run for it didn’t happen. Part of Charli’s bridesmaid duties involved sticking around to have her photo taken. She didn’t look pleased, and who could blame her for not wanting photographic evidence of the day? I kept a safe distance as the photo shoot got under way in the church gardens. Four photographers clicked away at the bridal party. Perhaps realising it was as close as she’d ever come to being sought by the paparazzi, Jasmine relished every second of it.

Charlotte did not. As soon as she could escape, she picked up the hem of her dress and bolted toward me, waving her bouquet.

“Quick! Let’s go!”

I couldn’t help laughing at the urgency. “Are you sure you can leave?”

She hooked her arm through mine and tugged me toward the parking lot. “Yes. We don’t have to be at the reception until six.”

The second we pulled out of the parking lot, Charli lost the hat and dumped her bouquet on the back seat.

“Where are we going, Coccinelle?”

“Well, let’s think about this for a second,” she began. “We’re baby-free, have two hours to kill and I’m dressed like a whore. Where do you think we should go?”

I glanced at her and was met by a wicked smile. “Somewhere quiet?”

“Yes.” She giggled. “Take me to the café and I’ll make you coffee.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind, Charlotte.”

“I know,” she replied still laughing. “But if you think I’m putting this dress back on for a third time, you’re mistaken.”

* * *

I’d never seen the town so quiet. Stores were shut and the main street was deserted. The Tate wedding was a big deal to everyone in town except us.

The café was closed too, but it had nothing to do with the wedding. The owner had chosen spending time with his grandbaby over making a living that day. Going to there must’ve been pre-planned. I’d never known Charlotte to hide keys in her bra before, but that’s where she pulled them from. I didn’t question it. I’d never known her to wear chicken hats before that day either.

Time alone with Charli was a rare treat. It was the first time she’d been away from Bridget for any length of time and I could tell that she was itching to have her back.

“Do you think she’s okay?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” I assured her. “Alex hasn’t called us and she’s too young to start fires or steal cars.”

Charlotte slid a cup of coffee across the counter. “Bridget wouldn’t do that.” She looked so pretty when she smiled but I was still fighting the urge to lurch forward and wipe the thick makeup off her face. “She’s going to be a good girl.”

“You think so?”

She walked around the counter and levered herself onto the stool beside me. “I think she’s going to
try
to be good,” she clarified. “It might take her a while to get it right.”

I reached for her hand and held it in place on my knee. “She’ll work it out.”

“In the meantime, she’ll probably put her father through years of hell,” she warned. “Are you prepared for that, Boy Wonder?”

I took a sip of coffee. “Nope. That would require planning. I don’t make plans. Whatever will be, will be, right?”

August 20

Charli

The reception was at the restaurant at the vineyard. When I heard that it had been closed all week in preparation, I knew it was going to be extreme.

I made sure Adam got us there on time. My first ever bridesmaid job was nearly over, and I’d come close to pulling it off like a pro. We walked into the small foyer to find Lily standing near a table of gifts, marking off names on a clipboard. The look of concentration on her face led me to believe she was taking the task very seriously.

“Do you need to see our invitation, Lily?” queried Adam as we approached.

She looked up and smiled. “No. Just your gift.”

Her businesslike approach was almost scary. I wondered if she would’ve turned us away if we’d shown up empty handed.

“Of course,” said Adam dryly. He reached into his welt pocket and produced an envelope.

“Just a card?” she asked, taking it from him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, continuing with the run of sarcasm. “There’s a cheque in there.”

“Not a very personal gift,” she harrumphed.

When it had come to choosing a gift, I couldn’t think of a single thing to give them beside his-and-her hair straighteners. Adam argued that they’d already have them, so we were back to square one. It highlighted the fact that we weren’t friends. I tolerated Jasmine and Wade bewildered me, which made serving as an attendant at their wedding positively bizarre.

Adam leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “It’s a big cheque, Lily.”

Instantly appeased, she stepped aside and let us proceed.

Adam started laughing the second we got through the door. I knew why. At the head of the room stood two giant gold thrones. I shushed him, trying desperately hard to hold back a giggle of my own. It was cheesy, self indulgent and very Jasmine.

I was pleased to see that there was no bridal table. The other bridesmaids were scattered around the room and there didn’t seem to be a seating plan. Adam and I found a small table near the window and hurried to claim it. No one paid us any attention, which was wonderful. All eyes were on the happy couple perched on their thrones like the king and queen of sparkles and trash.

Even Nancy, the Pomeranian, had made the guest list. The little dog was scurrying around the room in a tutu that covered the worst of her bald patches.

Meredith kept approaching the bride to tug on the hem of her dress or position her better while the hired paparazzi continued clicking away.

Jasmine was in her element, and I felt happy for her. As vulgar as they were, she’d worked tirelessly for months to pull her wedding plans together. Wade seemed to relish the attention too. I watched him for a while. The stupid grin on his face was permanent, and every minute or so he’d charge his glass and wink at random people.

People milled around, shuffling from table to table for a switch in conversation. We stayed put, dealing only with those who approached us. Floss joined us for a while and we both made an effort to appear interested as she gushed about her new granddaughter-in-law. A few others stopped to chat, mostly to Adam. He’d come a long way in the past few weeks. He was no longer considered a blow-in from out of town with a funny accent. He’d met a lot of people, mainly because of the bank renovation, but I was surprised when Spanner Padgett approached our table and greeted him like an old friend. Spanner had gone all out that day. He was wearing a tie with his flannelette shirt.

As soon as he’d gone, I quizzed Adam. “How do you know Spanner?”

Adam leaned back in his chair, his dimple deepening. “Spanner and I go way back,” he replied, making me laugh. “And his brother, Brick.”

* * *

I barely ate any of my dinner. The food was fine but I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the sight of the bride and groom on their thrones, eating their first meal as a married couple off TV trays on their laps.

“Charlotte,” murmured Adam, drawing my attention back to him. “You’re staring.”

“I know.” I gave a nod toward the happy couple. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

He dropped his head and laughed. “Never in my life.”

Jasmine and Wade eventually climbed down from their thrones to cut the cake. It was the highlight of my day. The three-tier monstrosity with the white icing and edible glitter had been teasing me all evening.

“Can we leave now?” asked Adam.

“No chance,” I told him. “They’re about to cut the cake. I’ve been waiting hours for a piece of that bad boy.”

“If it’s a bad boy you’re craving, I could –”

“Stop right there.” I cut him off, inciting a blinding half-dimpled Décarie grin. It confirmed that his intended sentence wasn’t wedding-friendly.

Adam didn’t have a chance to speak again. A waiter sidled up and placed two massive hunks of cake in front of us.

We stared at our plates. The cake didn’t look so appealing any more. It looked like road kill.

“How do you think they made the cake pink?” I whispered, turning the plate full circle.

“Beet juice,” Adam stated.