Always the Designer, Never the Bride Page 9

  "Baby, I'm fine. What are you doing?" Devon assured her. "Let's get married, huh?"

  Carly glanced over her shoulder at Audrey, who nodded her toward her waiting husband. After a moment's thought, she sighed. "Sorry," she told the minister. "Go ahead."

  As the ceremony got underway, J. R. couldn't help but look at Audrey.

  Man, but she takes my breath away.

  For a moment, he let himself imagine they were standing there for a different purpose, without another couple in a tuxedo and wedding dress placed between them. Her porcelain skin glistened, and just the casual way she held the purple flowers in front of her made him envy the lucky bouquet.

  Devon managed his vows and "I do" like a champ. In fact, the Marines took their place in the back of the room, forming an arch over the end of the aisle with their drawn swords, and J. R. figured they were home free when the minister pronounced them "Husband and Wife, Take Two."

  But as they moved in for the kiss, Devon wobbled slightly.

  "Dev?" Carly said.

  Devon muttered, "Sorry, swee—" And he collapsed to the floor.

  Activity swirled around them as J. R. knelt next to his unconscious brother. He gave his face a gentle tap, but Devon didn't flinch. He felt the heat at the same moment that Carly sensed it, and both of them pressed their hands to Devon's cheeks.

  "He's burning up!" she cried. "Devon?"

  J. R. craned to search the room for Sherilyn. When he found her, he asked, "Where's Andy?"

  "He just arrived," she said as she moved into the swarm. "Could we just have everyone stand back and give Devon some air, please?"

  As they complied, Devon opened his eyes slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched as he looked at J. R. "Am I married?"

  "Yeah, bro. You're married."

  "Oh. Good."

  And with that, he rolled to his side and proceeded to vomit all over the skirt of his new wife's elaborate gown.

  J. R. thought the blood-curdling scream that followed came from Carly . . . until Audrey threw herself to the floor beside her.

  "Not on the dress! . . . Noooooo!!"

  Safe Cleaning and Preservation

  of

  Wedding Gowns

  • Whether you're going to save your gown for posterity

  or sell it so that someone else can benefit from its use,

  your first action will be to have the dress

  professionally cleaned.

  • Dry cleaning, although it does address soil and stains,

  does little to prevent discoloration over time.

  Professional cleaning and preservation involves

  more; preserving and protecting the fabric includes special

  treatment under special lights where soil and stains are

  cleaned by hand.

  • It is recommended that a gown be preserved within

  three months of the wedding. Until that time, the dress can

  safely be stored in a clean, dry place

  protected by a cotton sheet or bolt of fabric.

  • Never store a preserved wedding dress

  in a basement or attic.

  Preferred locations for storage include a guest room or hall

  closet so that the temperature is consistent and levels of

  humidity are controlled.

  • Inspect the gown every year or two in order

  to assure its safety

  6

  J. R. went with Devon to the hospital while Audrey helped

  Carly out of her soiled wedding dress. Carly tossed on some jeans and an oversized chambray shirt, and Audrey quickly changed into a short cotton dress with triple spaghetti straps.

  "Come on, come on," Carly whimpered as she waited at the door of the hotel room. "I have to get to him, Aud."

  "I'm ready," she said, grabbing her denim jacket as she flew past the coat rack. "Let's go."

  Kat and Emma waited in an SUV outside the front door, and Emma drove them to North Fulton Hospital. Squealing to a stop in front of the emergency room doors, she told them, "Go! I'll park and be right in."

  Audrey didn't stand a chance of keeping up with Carly, so she let her fly ahead of her.

  "Thank you so much," she said to Emma, leaning through the open back door.

  "No problem," she said. "Go ahead."

  Kat stayed in the front seat, and Emma pulled away from the curb the moment Audrey shut the door. Carly was nowhere in sight, but Russell nodded to her as he rose from a chair in the corner of the crowded waiting room.

  "J. R. is with him, and now Carly."

  "Should I go in?"

  "Prolly not," he replied in his thick Australian accent. "Too crowded back there. J. R. will pop out and tell us when he knows something."

  "You're probably right," she said, and Audrey dropped into a chair beside him.

  "Kit-Kat with you?"

  "Yes. She and Emma are parking."

  "You be all right if I go find her?"

  "Of course. Go ahead."

  A little girl around four years old tottered up to her and smiled, batting long golden eyelashes. "I got pink boots," she said boldly. "You ever wear pink boots?"

  Audrey glanced down at her own almost-to-the-knee taupe boots with a braided belt and buckle at the ankle. "Nope," she replied. "I'll bet they're pretty though."

  "They are. They're prettier than yours." And with that, the miniature fashion police girl wobbled away to continue walking her beat around the waiting area.

  Thanks for sharing.

  The large glass door slid open and Emma walked in. "Kat found a place that will clean the dress, and she's on the phone with them now," she announced before taking the empty seat beside her. "Any news yet?"

  "Not yet."

  "Have you ever been to a wedding like that one?" Emma asked.

  Audrey glanced over at her, and Emma's amused smile ignited a laugh from deep down inside. "No," she said between chuckles. "I never have."

  "I've seen a lot of weddings," Emma told her. "And I can tell you I've never seen a groom puke on his bride before. That's a new one."

  They both hopped to their feet as J. R. appeared and headed toward them. He carried the jacket of his tuxedo over his arm, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, vest unbuttoned, and the bow tie hung loose around his collar. Just looking at him gave Audrey a little quiver.

  "He's going to be okay," he told them as he approached. "It's his appendix."

  "What?"

  "Yeah. His appendix burst just as the ceremony concluded. They're taking him into surgery now."

  "You're sure he's going to be all right?" Audrey asked him.

  "The doctor seemed very confident. I guess they do this surgery all the time."

  Audrey noted the glimmer of doubt in his eyes, and she ran her hand along his arm. "Then I'm sure he'll be fine."

  "I know."

  "Listen, Sherilyn texted and said they went ahead with the reception for all the guests. She and Carly's dad are keeping it all together. I'm going back to see if they need help," Emma said. "Do you want a ride, or are you staying here?"

  Audrey glanced at J. R. before answering. "I'm going to stay here in case Carly needs me."

  "When her heart starts beating again, tell her I'll put the cake into the freezer and we'll figure it all out later, but they'll still have a celebration when he's up to it."

  "Thank you."

  "Sure." She grinned at J. R., and he nodded. "You take care. Call if you need anything at all."

  Once Emma had gone, Audrey let out a heavy sigh and deflated into an uncomfortable upholstered chair. A few sec onds later, J. R. did the same thing, and the two of them sat there, wilted and glazed, staring straight ahead.

  Finally, Audrey broke the silence. "So. Your brother's appendix bursts, and you blame it on fast food hamburgers."

  "If you'd seen what he ate, you would have blamed that too."

  "I've never really seen someone get that sick from a food binge."

 
J. R. turned sideways in his chair, but just before he spoke, the little blonde girl appeared between them.

  "Yes?" J. R. prompted, but the girl just stood there staring at them. "Do you have something to say, young lady?"

  "She probably wants to tell you that my boots aren't as pretty as her pink ones."

  J. R. leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee, and asked, "Is that it? You want to discuss high fashion with me?"

  She giggled. "Nooo."

  "Then what can we do for you?"

  "I wanted to ask you something," she admitted.

  "Yes. This, I figured out. What would you like to know?"

  "Did you just get married?"

  J. R. smiled and cast a glance at Audrey before replying, "You mean because of my tuxedo?"

  "Yeah. Except for that on your arm—" She tapped a finger on J. R.'s tattoo. "—you look like Ken. 'Cept you need a haircut."

  "Who's Ken?"

  The little girl huffed and placed her hand on her hip.

  "That's Barbie's boyfriend," Audrey informed him.

  "You know Barbie?" the child asked.

  "Oh, yeah. Barbie and I go way, way back. I've designed a lot of wedding dresses for her."

  "You have?"

  "Yep. And dozens of red carpet gowns."

  "Wow."

  "Wow indeed."

  Finally. She'd surpassed the stigma of un-pink boots.

  "What's your name?"

  "Roslyn."

  "Roslyn," she repeated with a nod. "That's a very pretty, grown-up name."

  "What's yours?"

  "Audrey."

  She considered it. "Yeah, that's okay, I guess."

  "And this is J. R."

  "That's not a name," she told him. "Those are letters. They can only stand for something; they can't be a whole name."

  He leaned closer to her and whispered, "They do stand for something. Do you want to know what?" She nodded. When he looked at Audrey, she nodded too. "John Robert."

  "Those are good names. Why do you hide them?"

  "I don't know," he answered with a chuckle. "I've been called J. R. since I was your age, and I guess it just stuck with me, Roslyn."

  The little blonde looked up at Audrey with a serious expression. "You better call him John from now on so he doesn't forget."

  "Maybe I'll do that."

  Roslyn's mother called her over. "Don't bother the people."

  "I'm not botherin' them," she said, rushing to her mother's side. "That lady makes wedding dresses for Barbie, Mommy."

  Audrey's attention snapped in half as Carly came around the corner and stepped into view.

  "Caroline. Over here."

  She dropped into the chair next to Audrey and groaned. Audrey expected her to say something about a ruined wedding or never making it to the first dance. Instead, Carly rubbed her temples with her index fingers and said, "He nearly died, Aud."

  "I know," she said, touching Carly's arm. "But he's going to be okay now."

  Carly nodded, and she sighed as the realization set in. "Look," she suggested, "you two don't have to stick around."

  "Of course we're staying."

  "No, really. Go back to the hotel. I'm staying here with Devon tonight."

  "Not exactly the ideal wedding night, is it?" J. R. asked her.

  "Any night with Devon is a good night," she answered, and her eyes misted over with tears.

  Audrey could almost read her friend's thoughts of Afghanistan and Devon's frequent absences. In that light, she supposed spending the night in the hospital together was a pretty good alternative.

  "Why don't you go on back with Russell and Kat," J. R. suggested to Audrey. "I want to stick around until he's out of surgery."

  "I'll stay too," she said, taking Carly's hand and clasping it between both of hers. "We can take off once he's all settled in his room."

  Carly crumpled suddenly, tearful and trembling, and she leaned into Audrey's embrace. "Thank you," she whimpered. "Thank you both so much."

  The taxi dropped her in front of The Tanglewood just after 12:30 the next morning. Devon's surgery had successfully relieved him of his appendix, but infection had threatened further complication, which came to fruition through a high fever spike. Carly hadn't left his side except for a quick run to the ladies room at midnight and, although the nurse had arranged for a cot to be placed in the hospital room, Carly remained planted in the vinyl chair she'd dragged alongside Devon's bed. J. R. had decided to sack out in the waiting room for the night, but he'd summoned a taxi and tucked Audrey into it before he did.

  The hotel lobby echoed with an unusual lack of traffic, and the guy behind the front desk greeted her in a somewhat hushed tone.

  "I was in the bridal suite," she told him. "I think I was moved to another room during the wedding?"

  "Ah, yes, Ms. Regan," he replied, and he handed her a card key. "You're on the second floor in two-ten."

  "Thank you."

  "I heard about the groom's appendix," he stated. "How's he doing?"

  "Bad news travels," she remarked with the twitch of a smile. "He's recovering nicely."

  "Very good." He nodded. "Russell Walker was in the lounge earlier, and—"

  "No need," she said, turning away from the desk. "That says it all. Goodnight."

  "Goodnight, Ms. Regan."

  The hum of the elevator seemed to accelerate Audrey's desire to close her eyes, and she tilted her head back against the glass. When the doors slipped open, she sighed, pushing herself forward.

  Room 210 held all the charm of the bridal suite, on a much smaller scale of course. The tall queen-sized bed looked comfortable and inviting, and Audrey tossed the card key to the table and began shedding her clothes on her way toward it. In bra and panties, she yanked back the linens and dove in, tugging off one boot and tossing it at the chair before sliding her leg under the blanket. The second one came off, crashing against the leg of the chair at the same time that she flipped the switch and bathed the room in blessed darkness.

  She moaned as she squirmed down into place and dropped her head into a cloud of pillows. "Longest day in history," she said out loud, and she punctuated it with a sigh as the distant tinkling of harp music lulled her to sleep.

  In the next instant, or what seemed like it anyway, Audrey awoke to the clamor of Kat shaking her. The overhead light bore down on her like an interrogator's lamp, and she groaned as she pushed Kat away.

  "Stop it! You're fired, okay? You don't work for me any more. Now, go bother a different person."

  "Wake up, Audrey. You'll thank me tomorrow, I promise."

  "I won't," she objected. "I promise."

  "Kim has been trying to reach you for an hour," she said, dragging her to an upright position. "She wants you to go downtown to some club where she is."

  "What time is it?" Audrey whimpered.

  "Almost two."

  And with that, Audrey folded over and plopped face down into the pillow.

  "She wants to talk about her wedding gown, Audrey."

  She moaned. "Now?"

  "Right now."

  "I'm too tired to know for sure. Do I care?"

  "I'm almost certain that you do."

  Audrey groaned again. "Ah, maaan."

  "I know. But do you want to blow her off tonight and then kick yourself tomorrow?"

  "It is tomorrow."

  "I can turn off the light and go away." Kat offered, albeit insincerely.

  "Okay."

  "Really?"

  Reluctantly: "No."

  Twenty minutes later, Kat and Audrey raced through the lobby for the second time in less than twenty-four hours and pushed through the front doors. Russell revved the engine of an SUV and grinned at them.

  "I feel like the getaway driver," he joked as Audrey climbed into the back seat. "Want we should knock over a convenience store on the way?"

  "Don't even joke like that," Audrey warned him. "Whose car is this?"

  "Russell borrowed it from the w
edding planner," Kat said from the front passenger seat.

  "Sherilyn?"

  "She's a real cobber," he told them.

  "Do you know where you're going?" Audrey asked, buckling her seatbelt.

  "Oh, yeah," he assured her.

  A moment later, Kat leaned over toward Russell. "Is that true?"

  "Nah."

  Audrey moaned as Kat plucked her cell phone from her bag and began pressing buttons. Another instant, and Kat spoke into the phone. "Find Opera Nightclub, Atlanta."

  A computerized voice piped up. "Merge. Georgia four hundred. South."

  Audrey knew, but she asked anyway. "Who is that?"

  "It's Ramona," Kat replied. "My GPS."

  "She has a name?"

  "She never fails me. Always gets me where I'm going."

  "She sounds right tasty," Russell threw in, and Audrey fell back against the seat and sighed.

  "Really? You're evaluating the wiles of the GPS?"

  Kat giggled, and Audrey imagined Russell had pulled some sort of face about her but felt too tired to care. Her eyes burned and she closed them, against better judgment. As anticipated, she drifted off. In what felt like the next minute, Kat called her name, and they all hopped out of Sherilyn the wedding planner's Ford Explorer.

  Opera had all the noise and flair of a New York nightclub. Audrey felt the throbbing bass of the very loud music in the center of her chest as they bobbed through throngs of attractive, well-dressed people. She couldn't hear what Russell said to the large muscular man ahead of them, but the guy nudged them inside, and Audrey followed.

  "She's in a private room," Kat mouthed back at her, and Audrey nodded as Kat gently grabbed her wrist and led her along behind Russell.

  The thump of the bass kicked down a couple of notches once they reached the exclusive VIP area. They passed myriad groupings on their way past the opera boxes, and Audrey couldn't help naming them as she moved by.

  Diddy and his crew.

  Paris Hilton and her BFFs.

  Charlie Sheen and the goddesses.

  At the end of the row, surrounded by half a dozen people, sat Kim Renfroe. She flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder when she saw Audrey, and said something softly indecipherible to the woman to her left.