Beauty and the Billionaire: The Wedding

But she looked good. Her eyes had been heavily shadowed, since Kylie said that heavy eye makeup showed up best in photos. She had false lashes on, her eyes were lined to perfection, her brows transformed, and the delicate pop of pink on her lips was a thing of beauty. Her hair had been wrangled into a low bun, her hair smoothed by Daphne and Kylie’s combined efforts. The off-the-shoulder bodice now fit snugly, the small cap sleeves looking like delicate embellishments rather than as if they were struggling to hold up the yards of her dress. The waist dipped into a deep vee, the edges beaded, and then splashed out into her massive skirt of layered tulle and taffeta. It was princessy and probably the wrong look for a woman her size, but she didn’t care. She loved it and now that it fit again and Hunter loved her and everything she’d been worrying about was no big deal after all? All was right in the world.

Well, her cake was crap and the croquembouches were more like croquem-avalanches but she didn’t care. She was getting married to Hunter today and everything else that tried to stop her could go suck a dick. She loved that man. He’d even offered to let her keep wearing his jacket and they could get married just like that, but the photographer had made his way there despite the driving snow and she wanted pictures of them looking their best, not her looking like a train wreck.

And Daphne had been wonderful today. Gretchen hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her sister, but Daphne had been at her side throughout this long, distressing day. She turned and took Daphne’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I love that you’re here today, and I’m so glad you’re back in my life.”

Daphne’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Me too,” Audrey said, and moved forward to put her hand over their joined ones. “I know I’ve been reluctant to let you back in, but I’m very proud of how you’re doing and I’m glad that you reached out.”

Daphne sniffed. “Thanks, guys. I know I burned a lot of bridges in the past but I’m doing my best to make you proud.” Then she shook her head. “No, I take that back. I’m doing my best to make me proud.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you,” Audrey said.

“Well this isn’t all I want,” Gretchen declared before the moment got too sappy and she wept all over her excellent makeup. “I want you to be in the wedding. We can squeeze another bridesmaid in, I’m sure. It’ll throw shit off but who cares?”

Daphne shook her head. “There’s a reason I’m not in the wedding, Gretchen. I haven’t been part of your story for the last few years.”

“Then I want you to be part of it for the future.”

“Absolutely.”

Gretchen flung her arms out. “Group hug!”

***

It was going to be a lovely wedding, Daphne decided. She was feeling fine after she’d left Gretchen’s side and changed into her simple beige sheath dress and slipped into her seat next to Wesley. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Holding hands? After her recent confession? She figured it was because he thought she’d need the moral support. Which was funny, because she was feeling pretty good overall. It hurt that she didn’t have Wesley, but she’d survive. She was strong, like he’d said. Strong, healthy, and happy for her sister.

One of Hunter’s friends—Jonathan—had become ordained in his extensive travels and was filling in for the absent minister. The greenhouse had been decorated with roses of varying delicate colors, but the pale, delicate, bluish-purple roses lined the aisle and matched the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses. There wasn’t much Christmas decor in the greenhouse except for the occasional white poinsettia at the end of each row and artful ribbons reserving chairs up front for special friends.

Then the music started. And Daphne’s composure crumbled the moment Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” began to play. Wesley pressed a soft cloth handkerchief into her hand and she took it, swiping at her eyes. Hunter stood at the front of the redecorated greenhouse, a rather ardent expression on his scarred face as he stared down the aisle, waiting for his bride. The look he wore wasn’t stoic, Daphne thought. It wasn’t nervous, either. It was . . . burning with intensity, like he couldn’t wait for his bride to arrive into his arms. That was sweet.

Greer was the first bridesmaid to come down the aisle. Each one wore a lovely pale blue-purple dress in a different cut and carried a bouquet of white roses. Greer was heavily pregnant but glowing with happiness, and sneaking peeks at the man on her arm, Asher Sutton. Next came Sebastian and Chelsea, both tall and gorgeous, then Taylor and Loch. Taylor tripped on the carpet, but Loch’s strong arm caught her and she erupted in embarrassed giggles before taking her place next to the other bridesmaids at the front. Then came Magnus and Edie, the latter’s steps slow and deliberate to minimize her limp. Their fingers lingered together for a moment after they separated, and Daphne wondered if something was going on there.

Then came Brontë, on the arm of Reese, Audrey’s husband. After that, it was the maid of honor and the best man. Audrey—Daphne’s glowing, radiantly happy twin—walked slowly down the aisle on the arm of Logan Hawkings, Hunter’s best friend and Brontë’s husband. Time seemed to inch past as the bridal party moved into place, and the intense look in Hunter’s eyes intensified.

Then the music changed.

Etta James’s “At Last” poured from the speakers. Gretchen appeared at the end of the aisle, the waterfall bouquet of pale blue-purple roses cascading down from her hands. Her veil shielded her features, but even from her seat, Daphne could see the radiant smile on her face.