Page 24 of Caught By the Chief of Staff
Rick takes all my selections up to the register and pulls out his wallet, paying for them. The saleswoman looks disappointed that it isn’t a bigger sale, but I think this is perfect. I don’t think I would want anything fancier than this. I have never dreamed of what it would be like to have a big wedding with a dad who looked proud to walk me down the aisle. Mostly because I never knew my dad. When I was eleven, my mom died, and then I was all alone. I wasn’t mistreated, and for the most part I was pretty lucky with how it played out, but even in the best scenarios, the foster care system isn’t the place for fanciful dreams.
“So now that I have a beautiful dress and you’re in shorts and a T-shirt, how is that fair?” I ask, laughing.
“I packed my dress whites,” he answers. “I want everything to be special for you.”
“It is,” I whisper, feeling suddenly choked up.
“No, but it will be,” he says before grabbing my hand and leading me to the next shop, where he buys us matching gold bands.
And then Rick leads me back to our suite in the Paris Hotel that overlooks the Eiffel Tower and the Strip. I sit at the dressing table, curling and pinning my hair and touching up my makeup so I look like a bride, while Rick showers.
I strip out of my shorts and tank and pull on the white lace panties and matching longline strapless bra. I place the clip of the veil above my chignon and arrange the fluffy tulle behind me before unzipping my dress and pulling it from the hanger. I step into it and pull the zipper up my back as far as I can, but the back remains open.
“Shit,” I bite out, not noticing the water had been shut off until I feel warm hands slide into the opening of the dress, tracing my spine.
“Can I help you?” His voice rumbles in my ear.
“I can’t get the zipper all the way up,” I admit.
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” he says.
I regret the loss of his hands on my back when he slips them from my dress before expertly sipping it up. When I look back at him, I see his crisp, white uniform with his perfectly rolled neckerchief and a ton of medals on display. He cuts a striking figure of pure masculine perfection.
“Thank you,” I tell him, letting my fingers slide across the brightly colored ribbons and medals before stepping into the shimmery nude heels on my feet.
“I’m not gonna lie,” he says, his voice sounding rougher than before. “I’m going to prefer taking it off you more.”
“Me too,” I whisper before shooting Rick a saucy grin over my shoulder. “We should go before we miss our appointment.”
“Now we wouldn’t want to go and do that,” he says on a cheeky grin before putting his white sailor hat on his head and pulling open the door for me.
Rick holds out his arm for me, and I take it, letting him escort me into the elevator and then down to the valet and cab lines. A yellow cab pulls up when it’s our turn, and Rick holds the door open for me before sliding in beside me.
“To the Little White Wedding Chapel, please,” he says to the cabbie before taking my hand in his.
Rick silently toys with my fingers while we ride to the chapel. I look down to where they sit intertwined with his on his muscular thigh, when I feel the cool metal slide down my ring finger. A slim gold band with tiny diamonds all around it glitters on my finger, and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It’s also not one of the plain gold bands we bought today.
“I wish I could give you something bigger, fancier, but this is all I could afford right now—” Rick starts to explain the beautiful token of his love as if it’s not enough, when it’s so beyond anything I ever dreamed of. I can’t let him keep going, so I interrupt him, placing my free hand on the side of his jaw and pressing my mouth to his.
“It’s perfect. I love it.”
“I’m glad.” He smiles just as the cab pulls up to the front of the chapel. “I would give you the world if I could.”
“You already have.” Just then, the cabbie opens the door and we step out onto the curb.
“You must be Rick and Cara,” an older man dressed like Elvis in the rhinestones and cape phase says, and I barely hold in my amusement. Rick’s eyes twinkle with merriment. I’m glad my dress has pockets and my credit card is stowed away, because we’re definitely going home with the photo package now.
“Yes,” he answers. “We are.”
“Excellent. Right this way.” Elvis leads us into an office at the front of the chapel, where he takes Rick’s credit card and hands me a small bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath tied up in a black satin ribbon.
“Thank you,” I say as I smell the sweet roses and wonder what I could have done in this life or the last to deserve a man as loving and wonderful as Rick. He is everything I could’ve ever wanted and then some.
“Right this way,” Elvis says, leading us into a small sanctuary where he stands at the podium and picks up a small binder. He looks very official for an Elvis. “You may take her hand.”
An older woman with a camera snaps pictures, and we smile and pretend she’s not there as Rick takes my hands in his. The way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. I can only hope I make him feel this special. Fortunately, I’ll have every day of the rest of our lives to prove it to him.
“Dearly beloved,” Elvis begins, “we are gathered here today to unite Cara Cataldo and Richard Donovan in holy matrimony.”