Page 15 of Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar 2)

Aimee leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Ewww!”

“See, aren’t you glad Sara caught it instead?”

It suddenly occurred to me that I was going to have to sit in the chair the DJ was unfolding in the middle of the dance floor.

Dale didn’t look very happy about me catching the bouquet when I joined them, taking my shoes back from John and slipping them on.

“I caught it.” I held it up, triumphant, although now I felt a little sheepish, seeing that look on Dale’s face. “What? What did I do?”

“No way.” Dale shook his head as the girls dispersed, laughing and talking. The DJ was calling for all the single men to come out onto the dance floor. “There is no way another guy is going to…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he looked out over the dance floor at the gathering of guys, like he was sizing them up, getting ready to do battle.

He looked down at his waist, reaching around and unhooking the pink cummerbund that had come with the tuxedo. All the guys in the wedding party were wearing them.

“Hold this.”

He handed the pink band of material to his father and John took it, shaking his head.

That was the first time I realized Dale was wearing a belt—his belt—under his cummerbund. It was black and studded and had belonged to his father. Not John, but Dale’s real father. I still couldn’t believe John didn’t know that Dale—and Dale’s sister Chrissy, who lived in Maine with her mother—wasn’t really his. I understood why Dale kept it a secret, but I didn’t like it. If it were me, I would want to know. Sometimes I wondered if Dale might harbor the belief that if John found out, he wouldn’t love his son anymore.

I knew that was impossible. John loved me, and I wasn’t his real daughter. If he ever discovered the truth, I knew he would still love Dale and think of him as he always had—as his son.

“Dale.” I leaned in closer, touching his forearm. “It’s okay, really. I—”

He turned and kissed me, crushing his lips against mine. He had me by the upper arms, holding my whole body against him and then just as quickly as it had happened, he let me go. I almost stumbled, but John was there to catch my arm.

“You’re mine.” That’s all he said before he turned and stalked over to the laughing, joking group of guys who were, I had just noticed, all fixated on me. Of course, because I was going to be the one sitting in that folding chair, pulling up the hemline of my dress, so one lucky gentleman could slide the white garter with the blue bow up, up, up, my leg, until…

“He’s just Fred Flintstone to your Wilma, isn’t he?” Aimee laughed, joining them.

She’d overheard Dale’s emphatic you’re mine. Aimee liked to joke that Dale would drag me around by the hair like a Neanderthal if he had his way. It wasn’t like that, but it was hard to explain.

Matt and Aimee loved each other, but I’d watched them as a couple for two years and realized it was different than what I had with Dale. They joked and teased each other, they held hands and Matt always kissed her goodbye and said I love you, but their energy wasn’t the same as ours. Aimee and Matt’s love was the tropical beach kind with sunshine and palm trees and white sand—not unlike the place they’d decided to honeymoon together.

Our love was more like a hurricane. Category five.

“You probably should have let the ten year old have it.” John shook his head again, wearing the same bemused smile I’d seen on Dale when I rushed off into trouble to catch the bouquet. “They would have cancelled the garter toss.”

“Probably,” I agreed with perfect 20/20 hindsight vision.

The DJ was getting to the counting stage. Dale was waiting. I could almost see how tense his limbs were under that tux, like he was ready to burst through the material itself. He was like a cat waiting to pounce, focused on his target but still paying full attention to his periphery—and his competition.

I closed my eyes and sent up a little prayer to… whoever…

If you’re up there, or out there, or wherever, whatever you are, will you please just let him catch it because… because he loves me… and he wants to protect me… and he’s right, I am his. I belong, heart and soul, to Dale Diamond, for better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and health, all those things they said in the vows today. Even if I never get to say them in a church, they’re all true. I’ve said them all in my heart. I am his and I don’t want any other man to ever come between us again.

I opened my eyes, whispering a little, “Amen,” as the DJ started to count to three.

One

Dale’s eyes widened, focused on the garter. Matt was very tall—he played basketball in high school, all the Green boys did—so it was easy to see the target.

Two

Matt waved the garter back and forth and Dale’s eyes followed it like a big cat watching its prey zig zag in hopes of getting away.

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