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And they hugged each other tight, as only sisters who chose each other do.
It was her life and to Chloe it was perfect, just as it should be. She had almost everything she’d ever wished for, didn’t she?
They stepped out onto First Avenue arm in arm, talking excitedly. Joyous laughter. Chloe didn’t notice the woman with long black hair standing just outside the boutique window, impeding their path on the icy sidewalk, until she walked right into her.
Mistress of the fucking dark.
“Hello, Jesse’s girl.” Salena cocked her head and her heavily made-up amber eyes narrowed to slits with her grin. “You are still Jesse’s girl, aren’t you? Or are you Taylor’s girl? Bo’s girl?” She cackled like the evil witch she was. “Maybe you’re everybody’s girl now, yeah?”
Salena spied the ring on her finger. The diamonds glinted under the cold winter sun. Her gaze shifted to the sign above the door of the boutique they’d just come out of, and then to Linnea. She glared at her with hatred.
Linnea glared back without batting an eyelash.
“Salena. I’d like to say it’s good to see you again, but I’d be lying.” Chloe giggled and tugged on Linnea’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us. Merry Christmas.”
Deck the fucking halls, bitch.
She cocked her head to the other side; that malicious grin never left her face. “Something tells me you won’t be laughing for long.” And she winked. “Merry Christmas, Jesse’s girl.”
Then she turned around and walked away.
Well, all right then.
Fa la la la la.
Yards of ivory tulle encrusted with crystal beading hung on a satin hanger, just waiting for her to put it on. Chloe stood there in a silk robe while Danielle Peters, Monica’s wife, artfully photographed the sparkling gown with a sleeping baby Elliott wrapped across her chest. Colleen, Leena, Linnea, and her grandmother stood with her, waiting to help her get into it—not that she really needed it, but it would make for some lovely pictures.
New Year’s Eve. The last day of the year. The last day her surname would be Bennett. Chloe Kerrigan Nolan—without a hyphen. It had a nice ring to it. Out with the old and in with the new. It still didn’t seem quite real to her that in less than an hour she would be married. Shouldn’t she be nervous or something about now?
She wasn’t.
Maybe once she was walking down that aisle and everyone had their gaze fixed on her she would be, but right now Chloe was as calm as could be. And hungry. But then she was always hungry lately.
“Ready to dress now, darling?” Jesse’s mom asked in an Irish brogue. You’d never guess she was from here.
Colleen and Leena held up the gown so she could step into it. Her grandmother fastened it at the bottom of the low V back. Linnea pinned a garland of crystals and twisted tulle that matched her gown into her hair. Her auburn strands were swept back from her face and cascaded in a tumble of loose waves down her bare back.
“There.” Chloe could see the tears pooling in Linnea’s eyes as she turned her around to face the mothers.
“You’re lovely, dear.” Leena Kerrigan kissed her cheek
Jesse’s mother did the same on the other. “So beautiful.”
Her seventy-year-old grandmother stood in front of her, with both hands at her mouth as if she were attempting to stifle a sob. Her hazel eyes, much the same color as hers, were shiny with unshed tears. Then she opened her arms and Chloe stepped into them. She was transported back to when she was a child, safely encircled in the arms of her grandmother, the only mother she’d ever really known.
“I love you, Grams.” Chloe sniffled. She was trying really, really hard not to cry.
“I love you too, sweetie.” He grandmother stepped back and lightly grasped her chin. “Gandhi said, and I’m paraphrasing, that love is the prerogative of the brave.” She smiled and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “You, my dear Chloe, have the biggest heart and are the bravest girl I know. No matter what, always be brave.”
Her grandmother turned to Linnea and the mothers. “Isn’t she the most beautiful bride?”
“She is.” It was a hushed male voice that responded.
Chloe looked up. “Daddy?”
Michael Bennett stood in the open doorway. He was dressed in a smart black suit and a burgundy silk tie. A burgundy rose boutonniere pinned to his lapel. His hands were hidden behind his back. He took a step inside the room toward her, and Chloe picked up the skirts of her gown to cross the room to meet him.
“Chloe, you look beautiful.” Her father put his arms around her. In one hand he clutched a bouquet of English roses, from creamy white and the palest pink to dusty rose and the deepest burgundy. Just like the flowers Taylor had once gotten her, the stems wrapped in ivory ribbon. “Your…” He paused as if searching for the right word. “…Jesse and Taylor asked me to bring you these.”
