Page 5 of Rebel Bride
I offered a pinned-on smile. “What happened to Adeline?”
“Oh, she’s on the phone to Lars, asking him to bring her favorite guitar pick.”
Adeline would be singing during the ceremony, a choice not approved by Dash or his mother. I’d insisted on it, a way for me to add a personal stamp to the proceedings.
The rest of the wedding party had left to flirt with the single hockey players, the society princesses going wild with the jocks for the evening. Unlike me, a swamp girl finally nabbing her prince.
I looked at my dress, and the sight of it filled me with a peculiar dread.
“I should probably put it back on?”
Rosie frowned. “Only if you want to.”
I hadn’t meant that to sound like a question. Of course I wanted to don my dress. How else would I get married?
Sure, wear the dress, Summer. What’s one more lie to all these nice people?
Zip it, Shelby Mae!
Rosie squeezed my shoulder. “You know, it’s just one day. Once it’s over, you’ll be back to normal. Chinese food in sweats, binging Netflix, hanging with the girls. All the stuff you did before you were married.”
Not all. There was the honeymoon to get through first in St. Bart’s, though it would be less honeymoon and more family vacation. As we would be staying at one of the Carters’ many homes, Arabella—sorry, Mrs. Carter—saw it as a perfect opportunity to get to know each other better. Then I would return to life in Chicago, except not to my “low-paying administrative job” as assistant to the general manager at my husband’s place of work.
How would it look, the wife of a billionaire hockey star filing folders and doing coffee runs for my franchise? There was also this gem: I earn millions, babe, and even if I got injured tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter because … trust fund!
Adeline came in, her green gaze troubled.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course. I just hated having to make Lars turn around with Mabel in the back seat. But he’s getting it now.”
Mabel was Lars’s adorable toddler. “We can wait for him. No one will mind if I’m late.”
“He won’t be long.” Her expression cleared. “So, I saw Dash’s mom, giving off Mrs. Danvers energy.”
“She’s searching out concealer for this monstrosity.” Rosie grinned and gestured to my tattoo. “We’re just about to put the dress back on.”
Time to make this real. Accept my fate.
The girls helped me into the Sadie Yates A-line wedding dress with a tight-fitting V-shaped bodice, sleeveless but with wide enough straps that my tattoo was concealed. (See, Mrs. C?) Crafted from silk satin, the skirt featured delicate pleats and an asymmetrical cut that showed off my legs. I thought it charming and modern.
As for Mrs. Carter … well, she had sent numerous photos of princess gowns with voluminous fabric and multiple tiers, had even wanted Vera Wang to custom design a dress because off-the-rack was for “the rudely aspiring middle class.” I had insisted on a dress by Sadie. The funky designer was married to Gunnar Bond, a former Rebels player, and her playful fifties-era and rockabilly style spoke to me.
“Oh, wow!” Adeline touched her collarbones and looked a little weepy, even though she’d seen me in the dress once today. “You look so beautiful, Summer.”
I blinked at my reflection. The dress was lovely, the make-up on point, my blonde hair perfectly styled and flowing down my back.
“Now, the veil.” Rosie pinned it in place. Suddenly conscious of a need to get this over with, I stepped into the Jimmy Choo satin pumps. It was almost showtime and I couldn’t delay any longer.
And why on earth would you want to?—
Not now, Shelby Mae!
“Absolutely gorgeous.” Rosie stood back to let me fill the mirror’s entire reflection. It was me and it wasn’t. The girl I was and the woman I was trying to become. Successful, accepted, important.
I gave up my job.
Working as assistant to Ryder Calloway, the Chicago Rebels general manager, I had been learning the ins and outs of the franchise. It wasn’t all filing and coffee runs. But Dash was right. It was one thing for the girlfriend of a player to support herself this way, but keeping the position once married was just greedy. There were plenty of women who needed a job like that, who harbored ambitions to learn the business of high-stakes professional hockey. I might have been one of them once, but not anymore.
