“It’s really time?” Aimee asked, glancing around at the circle of women.
“The boys are out there,” her mother replied. “Line up. Wendy, Carrie. Then Sara, as maid of honor. And finally, the bride. We’ll go out into the back hall and pair up before you walk down the aisle. Your father’s waiting.”
Aimee’s father was giving her away. Her parents been divorced for years and had their issues but it was funny how a wedding broke down all those barriers. I had seen them talking earlier, two people who could barely stand to be in the same room together, clasping hands, eyes bright, talking about the child they had brought into the world twenty years ago, happy for their daughter in spite of whatever had happened in between.
“Matt’s out there,” Aimee whispered.
“He’s waiting.” I nodded, thinking of Dale, who wasn’t.
Was he?
I saw a stray eyelash on Aimee’s cheek and instead of brushing it away, I plucked it up between thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, quick Sara, make a wish!” Aimee insisted. “Hurry!”
I didn’t believe in fate or superstitions or any of that stuff. But Aimee did.
Just this once, I wanted to believe too.
My senses were full of Dale, imagining him right there, bigger than life. The thought of him being out there, right now, waiting for me, brought gooseflesh up on my arms. Everything looked hazy and far away and I closed my eyes for a moment, making a wish, the one Aimee had taught me when we were kids, before opening my eyes and blowing the eyelash gently off my finger.
“It will come true,” Aimee urged, looking at the door. We were both thinking about what might lay beyond it for us. “I wonder what he’s thinking,”
I knew she meant Matt, Aimee’s future husband. Her very near future husband.
“He’s going to think you look BEE-utiful!” Carrie snorted, nudging her future sister-in-law with an elbow, dredging up an old joke—the one Matt and Aimee had met over.
I couldn’t help laughing but Aimee gave me a quelling look so I turned my face and tried to hide my smile. Aimee was irrationally terrified of bees and had made a fool of herself in front of Matt trying to get away from one. He had, like most boys, picked it up and run with it, creating the most interesting bee puns imaginable to mercilessly tease her about it.
Which only proved, of course, that he liked her after all. Just like their kindergartner teacher, Mrs. Stowe, had once told them.
In fact, Matt had liked her enough to marry her.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Mrs. Wells ushered us toward the door, the photographer following, camera still going. There were two more photographers in the church, along with a video camera. Aimee wasn’t missing a moment of the day.
My heart dropped when I got to the door and saw the guys in their tuxes in the hallway with their matching pink cummerbunds—two of Matt’s brothers. No Dale. It was time and he wasn’t here. The music swelled. I could feel the church, full and warm, the congregation restless, waiting for the show to begin. My belly fluttered, excited, nervous. But there was a hollow space there, a holding cell, something missing.
Dale, where are you?
Aimee’s father took her arm, whispering something into her ear, making her blush and smile. It was such a simple, sweet thing, and my heart felt like it was being torn from my chest. My father would never walk me down the aisle—if I ever made it to one.
“Oh! My bouquet!” I remembered—I’d left it sitting on the counter.
I rushed back into the room. It was quiet and still now, the bustling energy all gathered out in the hallway. My bouquet was on the counter and I grabbed it, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. It was the spot where Aimee had been standing, the bride-to-be, just moments before. My maid-of-honor dress was lovely and I smoothed it over my belly. It thankfully hid all my scars. Aimee had been very cognizant of that. Besides, Aimee had insisted there would be no half-undressed Madonnas at her wedding.
Just long, pink, flowing dresses and a perfect June wedding day.
I had gone early that morning to the hairdresser with Aimee—after a night sleeping over, of course, just like we used to before Tyler Vincent concerts. We’d giggled and stayed up talking just like old times, too excited to sleep much. We’ve even watched MTV, although now I was waiting to hear Dale’s music, not Tyler’s. It was Dale whose dark looks and deep blue eyes made me swoon. I’d spent so much of my adolescence on Tyler—when I looked back, it felt like a wasted life. But I knew it had served a purpose. Tyler had gotten me through some tough times. And if my obsession with rock star Tyler Vincent felt like a million years ago, it was still part of the thread of our past. And, in some ways, our future. I couldn’t just forget him, but he had faded, like so many things.
Like my scars.
I twirled the blond tendrils at the sides of my face, adding a little extra curl and bounce. My face was flushed, eyes bright—I looked for all the world like a happy maid-of-honor, and on the outside, that was perfect. But it was always the things hidden underneath, the darkness no one else saw, that mattered most.
The door opened.
“I’m coming!” I called, turning with my bouquet in hand, putting on my brightest face.
And it was him.
Dale slipped into the room and knocked the breath from me instantly. He wore a black tux, his hair cut short now, no longer the shaggy mess it had been when I met him. I couldn’t remember whose decision it had been—which manager or producer or publicist—but I liked the change. I could see his eyes, all that dark heat focused directly on me. It had been a month since we’d been in the same room together and here he was, finally materialized in front of me like a dream.
I wasn’t sure I wasn’t dreaming until he spoke.
“Sara.” Just my name, but it was in his mouth, soft and full, spoken like a little prayer.
And then he was on me, just as I’d pictured it—two strides and I was in his arms, swept up into his embrace, mouth crushing mine with the force of a kiss we’d both been waiting for, longing for, dreaming about and remembering. It was like breathing again after being so long underwater you forgot where you were.
It was like coming home.
“You’re home,” I murmured against his lips, the heat of his body burning me like a brand, even through the layers of satin, far too much fabric between us. My God, I wanted him. There was a whole world waiting out there for us, a church full of people—it was Aimee’s day, not mine—but I was so full of him in that moment I could have forgotten it all. That was what Dale Diamond did to me.
“I promised.” He nuzzled my neck, sending delicious shivers down my arms, actually making goose bumps. I clutched at him, flowers still in my hand, arms around his neck, unable to believe he was here, real, flesh. “I told you, I’ll always come for you.”
I smiled at his words, those sweet song lyrics he’d written just for me. They were the first single on his album, just released and doing so well on the charts it was dazzling. I heard “my” song on the radio twenty times a day, saw Dale on MTV more now than I’d ever seen Tyler Vincent back during my dark, obsessive rock star days. And still, I craved more this man.
“I couldn’t wait to come home to you,” he whispered, lips burning a trail along my neck. “I can’t think about anything but you when you’re not with me.”
“I know. Me too.” I moaned softly as his hands moving over my dress, all that flowing, slippery satin. I felt his desperation, his urgency, and met it, using my bouquet of flowers to draw his head in toward me to kiss him hard, giving me a strong, heady combination of sweet roses and Dale to fill my senses. Our tongues met and slid and our mouths and arms locked as we lost and found each other in the moment.
“Okay you two, break it up!” Carrie poked her head in, grinning. “Get a room!”
“I intend to,” Dale whispered, his hand pressed to the flat of my back, keeping me close as he turned to glance at Carrie. I could barely breathe, I wanted him so much. I tried to clear my head but Dale wouldn’t let me go.
“C’mon, we’ve got a wedding about to start out here, remember?” Wendy’s head appeared next to Carrie’s. She was grinning too.
“Right.” I took a deep breath, putting a hand on Dale’s chest and pushing him away—slightly. “Let’s go walk down the aisle, handsome. We’ll get in trouble later.”
He didn’t let me go so easily, bending his head to whisper into my ear, “Promise?”
“With you?” I smiled, twirling away from him in my dress. I felt lighter than air. “That’s always a promise.”
He grinned, following me out the door.
CHAPTER TWO
“I can’t wait to get you home.” Dale pressed his lips to my ear and I shivered, toes curling in my matching dyed-pink heels as his mouth trailed down my exposed neck, forcing me to tilt my head sideways. His hands wandered down the satin back of the dress, stopping at the large pink bow in back, giving it a gentle tug. “And out of this dress.”
“Shhh, Dale.” I giggled, but I didn’t really mean it as he tugged harder, finding it sewn on, just for decoration.
There were bodies dancing all around us to I’ll Be Loving You by New Kids on the Block. It was number one on the charts for weeks in June of 1989—I’d started paying close attention to the Billboard Charts again just like I had back when I was obsessed with rock star Tyler Vincent. I was hoping Dale’s band, Black Diamond, was going to rock that insipid little boy band out of the lead. I Will Always Come For You had climbed the charts like a rocket and was holding at number eight.
Things were finally winding down. Dinner had been sit-down and because I was in the bridal party, I was seated with the rest of the bridesmaids, a solid row of pink. As maid of honor, I sat next to Aimee, who kept groaning and rolling her eyes during dinner because the clatter of knives rapping on champagne glasses kept interrupting the meal, signaling the bride and groom to kiss.
“My lips are going to be chapped!” Aimee had protested, but she hadn’t looked truly unhappy when she turned her face to Matt’s.
After that, everyone mingled. The DJ played everything from Paula Abdul’s Straight Up to Tone Loc’s Wild Thing and Dale pulled me onto the dance floor and wouldn’t let me go. Being on a dance floor with Dale Diamond was like sex and it gave us both an excuse to touch. We clung to each other during the slow songs and dirty danced our way through the fast ones, only we were far worse than Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey had been in the movie. We even dirty danced through that song—The Time of My Life—Dale’s body propelling me around the dance floor like I was attached to him, my pelvis locked with his.
I had insisted on going over to see the cutting of the cake—both because I didn’t want to miss it and because I was so turned-on I thought everyone must be able to tell. I had to have a little break or Dale was going to make me come for him right there on the dance floor! So we’d watched the newlyweds cut the three-tiered columned wedding cake decorated with—of course—pink roses.
