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She nodded slowly, her face blank. “After the newlywed game, I was confused. But you’ve helped me figure it out. I want to get married because I’m so in love with a man, and he’s so in love with me, that we both have a desperate need to share everything. A bed, a house, a life, a family. Even names.”
Oddly, that sounded...not so horrifying. But before he could fully process the revelation, she smiled tremulously and one tear fell.
“And that’s not going to happen with you,” she concluded. “So here we are, having an island fling, no pressure, no wedding bells. Stop me if you hear something that doesn’t jibe.”
She wanted to get married. But not to him.
So apparently he was the only one with difficulty in laying it all on the line. And the only one with difficulty in the parameters of their relationship, such as it was. He’d been developing all these feelings and she...hadn’t. How in the hell had that happened?
Twelve
The moment of Cara’s triumph had arrived.
The wedding dress fashion show, which was the highlight of the expo, would start in seventeen minutes. Cara Chandler-Harris Designs would meet the world’s elite wedding professionals with a splash, yards from the pristine beach. A balmy breeze played with the white fabric sheets hanging from metal frames, which served as a makeshift barrier to separate the audience from backstage.
Every one of the brides radiated with a je ne sais quoi that brought to mind romance and beauty and a touch of pageantry. Cara’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. Tears meant the dresses were perfect, selected with each model’s attributes in mind, altered with precision.
Or it just meant she’d fallen in love with the wrong man and it sucked.
What had she expected it to be like? Moonlight and roses and a breathtaking marriage proposal by the sea?
No, actually, she’d expected it to end exactly as it had. Badly. Because in her heart of hearts, she’d known it was going to end. But at least she’d done the right thing and pushed him away. It certainly hadn’t been hard—he’d already been halfway out the door to his next resort, gleeful to turn around yet another failing wedding destination with his superhuman efforts. All the wedding and marriage talk had just been icing on the cake of his departure from her life. Like last time. Like always.
“Sand in your eye?” Meredith murmured and poked her head around the sheet to survey the audience.
“I’m fine.” When Cara returned to their room last night, dry-eyed and numb, her sister hadn’t so much as lifted an eyebrow, and hadn’t asked any pointed questions. For that, Cara couldn’t begin to express her gratitude.
It was the only reason she’d spilled everything to her sister. Every last horrible detail.
“That’s good. But if you can’t do this, no one would notice the hole in the lineup.” Meredith nodded at Cara’s dress, her gaze chock-full of sympathy. “We have five other designs to show. It’s enough.”
How did her sister always know the right thing to say?
“Bless you, honey. But Mulan is the first dress I designed because I wanted to, not because I had an order. It’s my best work.” She bit her lip and struggled not to take the easy out. “I need to wear it and I need to participate in my own show. People will love it.”
More therapy. Obviously she required a lot. But she had a burning need to prove something to herself, and walking down a runway in a wedding dress somehow had become part of it.
Music piped through the sound system, and one by one the girls paraded down the runway, twirled, paused to a barrage of applause and returned to the backstage area. Cara went last.
Her smile was genuine.
She’d come full circle. Cara Chandler-Harris Designs had started as a way to get her through. And it would continue to provide her satisfaction and purpose. Nothing had changed, other than the fact that Cara could finally accept the truth.
She was always the bride, but never married. And that was okay.
Weddings were fun and she got to participate in the centerpiece of every one—the dress.
And before she’d come to Grace Bay, Cara had let the glamour and romance of the event itself seduce her into forgetting that “I do” wasn’t the end of the wedding but the beginning of a marriage.
Flashes around the perimeter from professional cameras burst in rapid succession. Photographs. Of her dresses. These were magazine photographers and wedding bloggers capturing her designs to show to their readers. Which might lead to more customers.
