Page 22 of One More Time

Saturday morning dawned a radiant pink and orange around the same time Grace had slipped from the tousled bed, with only a few hours’ sleep under her belt due to her unbridled excitement. Like a thief in the early-morning light, she’d gone in search of an extra-strong coffee and poached eggs on toast, but had found herself constantly sidetracked. Five chaotic hours, a toasted cheese sandwich, two coffees and one glass of bubbly later, she savoured the few minutes she now had to herself after Jenny and her mum had gone to do the final checks of the hotel’s ballroom – they wanted to make sure everything was perfect and she adored them for it. What she’d do without the two women who always had her back, she didn’t know. Having kept her finger firmly on the pulse of the wedding planning, she had no time for such things now – all that mattered today was seeing, and marrying, her darling Charlie.

Gazing from her top-floor balcony at the powder-blue sky devoid of a single cloud, then to the crystal-clear sea lapping at the white-sand shore of the recently renovated Seadrift Inn, she smiled – it was the perfect day for a wedding. A renewed flurry of butterflies stirred in her stomach as she imagined walking down the aisle, toward her everything. The giddying sensation intensified the longing consuming her heart and the desire surging through her body. Today was the day she’d give Charlie every single piece of her. The very thought both elated and terrified her – what if she didn’t know what to do in the bedroom?

Closing her eyes against the bright sunshine, she took a deep, calming breath – Charlie would guide her, she was certain of it. Five months hadn’t given her much time to plan the lavish wedding, but she didn’t want it any other way. She hadn’t wanted to delay a day longer than necessary to become Mrs Charlie Wilson, nor could she wait to finally be able to make love to the man who’d shown her time and time again how deeply he cared for her. His patience was an absolute virtue, and made her love him all the more.

Wandering back into her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, slipped the exquisite satin platform slingbacks on, then stood on shaky legs. Having counted down the sleeps from the night Charlie had asked her to be his wife, she had felt like their wedding day would never come, and yet here it finally was.

Pausing at the full-length mirror, she repositioned a few loose curls, liking how the smoky eye make-up made her eyes pop. She’d chosen the ruby-red lipstick to match her bouquet of roses. Turning slowly, she admired from all angles the wedding gown her mother had made for her. The fitted strapless dress was a seamless flow of vintage lace, silk and sparkling beads. The teardrop pearl earrings her grandmother had loaned her added an extra touch of elegance.

She couldn’t wait to see how handsome Charlie was going to look in his tailored suit, nor could she wait to hear she was officially his wife.

A knock at the door had her turning. ‘Come in.’

Her father stepped into the room. ‘Oh my, Grace. Look at you, you look incredible.’ He closed the distance, hugged her and then held her at arms-length. ‘I can’t believe my little girl is all grown up, and you’ll be moving out of home to become a wife, and eventually a mother.’

‘I’m not moving far, Dad, just ten minutes down the road.’ The scattering of silver hair gave her father a distinguished air. ‘And you and Mum can visit us at Moonflower Acres any time.’

‘Yes, I know. That little cottage at the back of the main homestead will be a good start for your married life.’ His forehead puckered with emotion, and he drew in a breath. ‘It was lovely of Josephine to give it to you and Charlie.’

‘Yes, it’s a very generous wedding present.’

He sniffed, blinking faster. ‘It just makes me so proud to see the wonderful young woman you’ve become, Grace.’ He cupped her cheek. ‘You’re a spitting image of your mother, on our wedding day.’

Her emotions welling and threatening to engulf her, Grace fanned her face. ‘Don’t.’

He tipped his head. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Make me get all teary.’ She cleared her throat and smiled. ‘I’ll ruin my make-up.’ But on a day like this one, it was impossible not to feel the emotion. ‘Thank you for always being the best dad ever.’ With tears prickling, she laced her arm into his and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I love you so much.’

Her father kissed her forehead. ‘I love you too, sweetheart.’

The door swung open and her mum flurried into the room with Jenny in tow, the veil that had been passed down three generations in hand. ‘Right, everything is ship-shape and your handsome husband-to-be is at the altar, fighting jitters, so let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’

‘Yes.’ Her belly flip-flopping, Grace nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s do this.’

Jenny rushed over and held out a clasped hand. ‘Here’s your something blue, Gracie,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll help you put it on, if you like?’

Grace gasped as Jenny dropped a blue garter belt into her open hand. ‘Oh my goodness, Jenny.’ She threw a sideways glance toward her father and was relieved to see he was busy fixing his tie in the mirror.

Jenny pranced on the spot. ‘Well, come on then.’ She wriggled her brows. ‘Charlie is going to love taking it off with his teeth, I bet,’ she whispered, flashing a wicked grin. ‘As will you.’

Grace gave her friend’s hand a playful slap. ‘Stop it.’

They slipped into the bathroom like a pair of naughty schoolgirls, and Jenny helped Grace to slide it up her leg, and to her thigh, both of them giggling as Grace lost her footing and Jenny saved her in the nick of time.

‘What are you pair doing in there?’

‘Nothing,’ Grace called back. ‘I’m just peeing, and Jenny is holding my train up.’

‘Okey-dokey, well, don’t be too much longer, will you?’ her mother replied.

Reappearing moments later, Grace sat at the dresser and her mum positioned the antique lace veil – her something old – and then slipped the comb in behind Grace’s chignon, dotted with baby’s breath and tiny red roses.

‘There we are, sweetheart.’ Her mother came around to face her. ‘You, my precious daughter, are the apple of my eye.’ She then turned to her husband, who was pacing beside the doorway. ‘You’re going to wear holes in the carpet if you don’t stop, love.’

‘Sorry.’ He grimaced then flashed Grace a smile. ‘So, are you ready to become Mrs Wilson?’

‘Am I ever.’