Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I stepped out of the room and stood guard at the door, not letting anyone else in, and dialed her father.
Lucian answered on the first ring. “Reid. You change your mind about my offer?”
I smirked as I looked over my shoulder at my wife, curled up under the covers of her hospital bed. “Not exactly.”
There was a long pause, then a sigh. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Just wanted to call and say hi… dad.”
“Charlotte married you? When?”
“Just now.”
“What? Some half-ass wedding in a cheap hospital chapel. I have news for you—son—God doesn’t have any rights in a New York court.”
“Maybe not, but we both know perception is everything. How would it look if the Irish Catholic Manwarrings didn’t recognize a union sanctioned by God?”
“You’re a real son-of-a-bitch, Reid,” he growled.
“I’ll take that as a warm welcome to the family.” Chuckling, I hung up, sliding the phone into my back pocket as the nurses came out and let me in to see my wife.
CHAPTER 40
CHARLOTTE
“Are you sure?” Luc asked in his perfectly tailored suit, offering his arm for me to take. “This is your last chance to pull a runaway bride.”
I tapped my chin, careful not to touch my pinkish nude lipstick, and pretended to consider it.
There was no way I was leaving this building without a ring on my finger, and Luc knew it. That didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.
“Well, the roads are covered in ice, and even the streetlamps are out. It might just be safer to cancel. Oh wait! I’m already married.”
The storm of the century raged outside.
Something about a freak blizzard on its way to blanket the city in a winter wonderland from hell.
It made sense. My father was one of the most powerful men in the city.
He acted as if he were God himself.
He did say that I would marry ‘the help,’ when hell froze over.
According to the weather man, we were well on our way.
The storm had picked up faster than we’d expected. Not even half of our last-minute guests were able to make it, but Reid and I refused to put off the ceremony.
We wanted to have a proper wedding no one would question before he brought me home to the new brownstone he’d bought for us.
Neither of us were willing to wait another day to start our life together.
Mother nature be damned.
“Well, as long as you have a good reason.” Luc winked, ready to walk me down the aisle “Are you ready to be Mrs. Taylor?”
“I’m already Mrs. Taylor, but let’s go tell the world.”
I took his arm, and he guided me to the aisle between the rows of seats at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts main stage.
When the storm picked up and the power went out an hour ago, I thought for sure we would have to cancel the ceremony, but Reid had refused.
He’d said he would fix it with a bit of help from my family and friends.
They’d lined the aisle with candles of all shapes and sizes. The stage was lit with a few hundred candles in the front corners and along the center, giving the room an almost ethereal glow.
Then the music started.
At first, a single cello, then another, and a few violins. It took me a moment to recognize the tune Perfect by Ed Sheeran.
It was breathtaking in its simplicity and so very touching. Ginnie played and other friends from different orchestras and ensembles I had played with over the years joined her.
I wasn’t even on the stage yet, standing in front of the man I loved, and I was already having to hold back tears of joy.
When I was still in the hospital, I told Reid I didn’t want to wait too long to have our formal wedding.
He’d agreed, and the next day, he had Olivia, Amelia, and Ginnie in the hospital room, helping me make plans while he and Luc went ring shopping.
Olivia even had designers bring dresses to the hospital room for fittings, which was really convenient since I wasn’t supposed to spend too much time on my feet.
I had only been released this afternoon and told to take it easy, and I would… tomorrow.
The officiant wasn’t a priest.
They could only do weddings in a church, and there was no way to get this all ready in time, so the director of the New York Philharmonic agreed to marry us if I agreed to join as first cello after I recovered.
Apparently, he had been ordained before in order to marry some other friends of his.
The entire thing was perfect.
No, it was better than perfect.
It was magical and more than I could have ever hoped for. I wore a vintage dress Amelia found when none of the stuffy haute couture designers felt right. She’d even organized a small team of seamstresses to come in and alter the dress to fit me with its beautiful art deco beadwork and long elegant train. It was so exquisite, soft and feminine, and just stunning.