Songbird (42 page)

I brush my lips against his heated skin.

“Yes. A thousand times yes.”

“M
orning sickness sucks.” Lorie groans and nibbles on a cracker.

“I remember.” I smile at my reflection in the mirror until Megan winds my hair around the curling iron a little too tightly. “Ow!”

“Hold still.” She counts to ten before releasing the blonde tendril. I watch, fascinated, as it bounces into place. Devin had only one request during this whirlwind wedding experience and that was for me to wear my hair down. Megan, my matron-of-honor and Nazi hairdresser, was determined to make his dream come true.

“Are you nervous?” Meg asks.

“Nope.”

I give my gigantic stomach an affectionate pat. Maybe I should be anxious. It is my wedding day, after all. But honestly, all I feel is happiness. The baby’s happy, too, if her constant movement is any indication. We’ve had many discussions this morning regarding the intensity of her kicks, but she doesn’t listen to me. The only time she’s calm is when Devin’s reading to her. I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Father and daughter already have this sweet bond. Meanwhile, she’s using my ribs to practice for her future career as a soccer player.

It just doesn’t seem fair.

“I want a hot dog,” Lorie mutters.

I stifle my laughter. All those hormones mixed with her natural bitchiness is sure to keep Owen busy for the next seven months or so.

“You just had breakfast,” Megan remarks.

Lorie turns her murderous glare toward my hair stylist.

“Please don’t kill each other on my wedding day. Someone give me my phone.”

Megan sighs and fishes my cell out of her pocket. If anyone can sympathize with wild pregnancy cravings, it’s me. I text the best man.

Your woman wants a hot dog.

Like a good daddy who values his life, he replies right back.

She sent me out for a hot dog at midnight last night. With onions and cheese!

I crinkle my nose in disgust.

“Lorie, dear. Would you like your hot dog with onions and cheese again?”

She makes a retching noise and quickly rushes to the bathroom.

“I take that as a no,” Megan says. She unclips my hair and wraps another strand around the curling iron.

Minutes later, Lorie returns and sweetly requests a plain hot dog. I quickly text Owen and hand the phone back to Meg.

“Please tell me the barfing and cravings won’t last the whole time.”

“Mine didn’t.”

Lorie slumps down onto the bed. “Can I do this?”

Megan casts her a disapproving look. “Would you stop whining? This is Callie’s day.”

Lorie’s eyes flash with anger. Since Megan has yet to experience the pleasure of being pregnant, there’s no way she can comprehend that yelling at a hormonal mommy is probably the last thing you want to do.

“Please don’t kill her, Lorie. Just remember she’s clueless and I need her today.”

Lorie’s face relaxes. “Fine. But I make no promises about tomorrow.

“Hmph.” Megan grins excitedly. “Finished! What do you think?”

Turning toward the mirror, I smile at the girl in the glass. She has long, wavy hair . . . just as the groom requested. And the make-up is minimal, just like I wanted.

“I love it. Thank you, Megan.”

Just then, someone lightly knocks on my bedroom door.

“That better not be you, Devin McAllister!” Lorie yells.

Valerie walks inside. “Nope, just me. Has my eager son been trying to sneak a peek?”

“All afternoon,” I tell her.

Valerie gives Lorie a hug. I love seeing the two of them together. Like me, Lorie’s never been close to her mom. We’re both lucky to have her.

Megan rushes toward the closet. “You’re just in time, Mrs. McAllister. We’re ready for the dress!”

The girls had really outdone themselves in helping me find the perfect dress. I didn’t ask for specifics. I didn’t want to know the designer, the type of material, or the price tag. My only requirements had been to find a gown I could actually walk
and
sit in and that it fit around my enormous stomach. I’m still blissfully clueless and I want to stay that way. All I know is that it’s the most beautiful and comfortable dress I’ve ever worn.

And it fits.

The three of them help me into my dress and zip me up. When I turn toward the full-length mirror, Lorie suddenly bursts into tears.

“Stupid hormones!” She groans, reaching for the box of tissues.

Valerie dabs at her eyes, too. “Callie, you’re beautiful. And I have something for you. I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me, but William and I wanted to give you something today.”

“Oh, Valerie, you didn’t have to do that.”

“We wanted to. You’ve brought so much joy to our family.” Her eyes fill with more tears as I blink away my own. “Anyway . . .”

She offers me a long gift box.

“The day Shyann and Devin were born, William bought each of them something to wear on their wedding days. Devin’s gift was a pair of cuff links. He’s wearing them today. And this necklace was for Shyann.”

I open the box to find a thin Y-drop necklace with tiny pearls and earrings to match. Lorie starts to cry so hard she finally excuses herself and heads downstairs.

“Are you sure? I mean . . . you want me to wear them?”

Valerie nods.

“Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your make-up,” Megan says softly.

I try to get a handle on my emotions as Valerie walks behind me and slides the necklace around my neck. With trembling hands, I place the pearls in my ears before facing the mirror once again.

“Devin and Shyann shared a very special connection. A special love,” Valerie whispers, her voice full of love and emotion. “Shyann would be so happy that Devin’s wife is wearing her jewelry today.”

“Thank you, Valerie.”

I smile through my tears as she kisses me on the cheek.

There’s a knock on the door, even though it’s wide open. I look over to find my dad standing there, his eyes red-rimmed.
Did he hear all that?

“Hi, Dad.”

Valerie and Dad introduce themselves to each other before she heads back downstairs. A tearful Lorie comes back, but only to tell Megan that the caterer has a question. The girls excuse themselves and leave me with my dad.

“Is she okay?” Dad asks.

“Lorie? Yeah, she’s just pregnant.”

He nods. “Must be something in the water.”

“Must be.”

I smile and offer him a seat on the bed. Megan will kill me if I wrinkle my dress, but my feet are killing me.

“You look great. I told you a tux wasn’t necessary.”

“Sure it was. How many times does a guy get to walk his little girl down the aisle?”

“Hopefully just the once.”

“Better be just the once.”

I grin.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“Nervous?”

“Not a bit.”

“That’s good. I feel like I’m supposed to say something profound, but I’m hardly the expert on happy endings.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t let me break my neck when I walk down the stairs.”

It’s a joke, sort of. I’m not really afraid of falling today. As the very pregnant bride, I’d opted for ballet flats instead of heels.

“I won’t let you fall, Callie.”

My eyes well with tears. “I know, Dad. You never have.”

He nods. “Before we go down, I need to tell you about an unexpected guest.”

“What unexpected guest?”

“Your mom.”

My breath catches in my throat. I’d debated whether to even invite her, but Devin convinced me I’d regret it forever if I didn’t. I never expected her to show up.

“She walked right in like she owned the place . . . snapping at the caterer and yelling at the kid with the camera. You know, typical Kim.”

Poor Oliver.
He offered to take the wedding photos in exchange for a bottle of wine. We’d have to order him a case now.

“I was going to give her a piece of my mind, but Devin beat me to it. He told her she was welcome to stay but only if she kept her opinions and snotty comments to herself. If she couldn’t do that, he’d have her tossed out, and the only glimpse of this wedding she’d get would be a postcard from your honeymoon. Then some big black guy came up and asked if there was a problem. She shut right up and promised to behave herself.”

Sweet Malik. No longer my bodyguard, but a trusted friend. We’d have to buy him some wine, too.

“Devin’s a good man, Callie. He’ll take care of you.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay with Kim being here? Because I can’t lie. It’d give me great pleasure to have her escorted out.”

Am I okay with it?
Not really. Whether she’s here to confirm the square footage of the house or to actually enjoy her daughter’s wedding day remains to be seen, but we invited her, so I’ll deal.

“It’s okay. She made the effort to be here. We should let her stay.”

Someone softly knocks on the door.

“Hey, you two,” Megan says. “Are you ready?”

Dad and I smile at each other.

“Ready, Cal?”

“I’m ready.”

Lorie’s right behind my matron-of-honor, holding my bouquet of white roses. She glances down at the flowers and smiles.

“And to think, this all started with a single white rose.”

I feel my cheeks heat. Dad looks confused, but he doesn’t ask questions.

Soft instrumental music resonates through the house, and I lace my arm through my dad’s as the four of us make our way downstairs. Just like he promised, my father holds on tightly as we walk to the landing.

I face the living room, where our family and closest friends are seated, but I don’t see any of them. Because Devin’s standing at the altar, and my eyes can’t focus on anything but him.

“Here we go,” Dad says.

Here I go.

The bride and groom are eager—and my feet are swollen—so the ceremony’s a short one. We recite the traditional vows. Devin’s smile is a mixture of happiness and pride when the preacher tells him to kiss me.