Page 27 of Aisle Be The Groom
And he gave one hell of a blow job.
“I don’t see why we need your father’s help to get married at all,” I said. “We have enough money to pay for the wedding. We don’t need anything fancy. Just a small ceremony with our closest friends.”
“Why settle for small when we can have the big do?”
Because after this morning, I feel uncomfortable taking money from your father.
“It’s not terribly fair to your father.”
“Stop worrying about it, Ozzie. Dad doesn’t mind. He still feels guilty about all the time he missed when he returned to Bristlecone Springs and left us with Mom. I swear, you’re the only one who makes it seem bad to have a wealthy father-in-law. He can afford it.”
“All right. He may be able to afford it, but I can’t get anything done if you’re not around.”
He groaned. “Ozzie, just do whatever you want. On the day, I’ll show up as your Prince Charming and make you the happiest man alive.”
“I’d rather you show some interest in the wedding, Car.”
“Take a look at the ring on your left hand, sweetheart, before making such a dumb statement in the future. If I didn’t have any interest, I wouldn’t have bought you that rock.”
“It’s not dumb. It’s our wedding, and you’re off gallivanting in the Caribbean without me. I have an appointment to see the wedding planner today at two. You were supposed to take me.”
He furrowed his brows and tightened his jaw. “If you’re just calling me to bitch and complain, I’ll go.”
“Carter—”
He’d hung up. Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Something about this situation was wrong. Was it Carter hanging up on me? How rude and disrespectful. Did I really complain that much to annoy him? Why couldn’t he put some effort into planning our wedding? If he showed just the slightest interest, maybe some of my prewedding jitters would vanish.
I grabbed my laptop, opened it, and found the Wedding Whisperer blog. Fingers flying over the keyboard, I typed all the things I couldn’t mention to Carter in my e-mail.
Dear Wedding Whisperer,
I am a long-time fan of your work, and I’m finally getting my own HEA. My boyfriend of two years and I are getting married. I’ve followed your advice to a T in planning everything, but now that I’m ready to take care of the plans, my boyfriend doesn’t seem to want to be involved in this part of the process. Our wedding is just weeks away, and he’s off in the Caribbean while I am left to plan the whole celebration. He seems unconcerned with the details or even with being present for them. It’s as though he views our wedding as an afterthought, a social event rather than a symbol of our union. He just wants to show up on the day.
Each time I try to talk to him about it, he brushes me off or changes the subject. This is not how I pictured our life together, and it’s certainly not how I pictured our wedding. I want him to be as excited as I am.
Is it okay for my fiancé to not be interested in planning our wedding, or is this a sign we’re making a big mistake? I’ve dreamed of our life together since we got into a relationship, and now that I’m so close to that dream, I’m afraid prewedding jitters may ruin everything.
Nervously,
Big0.
As soon as I hit Send, relief washed over me. Sharing my anxiety lifted some of its weight off my shoulders. I spent half an hour scribbling into my little book about my plans for the day. During one of Gray’s infrequent calls, when he’d suggested we got married at the ranch, he’d mentioned a wedding planner in town. I’d made an appointment to meet with her at two.
My phone vibrated, and I checked the screen. Carter had sent me a voice message.
“Sorry I hung up on you, but I wish you weren’t so negative, Ozzie. Have a little faith in your man, will you? I just spoke to my dad, and he’ll take you to town to meet the wedding planner. He’ll fill in for me and get stuff done. Just tell him what you need. Love ya. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, baby, and I mean that.”
The tightness in my stomach eased. If only I could take back the e-mail I’d sent. Carter wasn’t that bad. The wedding was just stressful. Once the whole ceremony was over, all the tension from the plans would be gone. We would live a happy life, and I didn’t have to worry about frequently seeing his father.
Feeling much better, I climbed to my feet, pulled on a pair of pants, my sneakers, and left my room. Outside was a hive of activity: trucks driving by, men talking, and horses neighing.
As I walked through the main hall, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. I followed the scent but stopped at the entrance. A woman with a halo of golden curls was busily arranging pastries on a platter. She looked up, and her face lit up with a welcoming smile.
“Good morning, love,” she said, her thick Southern accent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “You must be Ozzie. Gray told me all about you. Congrats on the upcoming wedding. I’m Gertie, the cook.”
Gray hadn’t mentioned he had a cook. I walked into the kitchen, returning her smile. “Hi, Gertie. The smell of that coffee brought me here.”
“And here I thought it was my charming personality you heard about.” She grabbed the coffee pot and poured a steaming cup. “Get yourself a seat. Gray told me to take good care of ya while you’re here. Do you have any favorite foods?”
