Page 87 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I was only twenty-six and Gabriel was only twenty-eight.

We still had plenty of time to do all the things we wanted to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“You can’t be serious,”Annika said over brunch.

“Why not? I think it would be cool.” I took a big bite of my Eggs Benedict. “We’re not having a huge wedding so it’s big enough to hold everyone and we can decorate any way we want. Sean said we can have it catered?—”

“You arenothaving your wedding reception at Monks,” Annika said, flipping through a glossy magazine on top of the stack she’d brought with her. She shoved it right under my nose. “Look at this fabulous wedding. This is what you want.”

Annika had wedding fever. It had been a month since Gabriel proposed, and she was my self-appointed wedding planner.

I glanced at the glossy magazine spread. The wedding looked extravagant and over-the-top and nothing like what we had in mind. It was also staged, highly stylized, and everyone in the photo was a model. It had probably taken two people to get the “bride” into that gown.

I’d need someone to hold the dress up for me when I needed to pee. Eating, drinking, and dancing would be out of the question too in that frothy concoction with a form-fitted bodice. I’d need a separate chair at the table just to hold the train.

I closed the magazine and returned it to the stack. “Save the magazines for your wedding,” I said. “We’re not that worried about where we have ours, and I can’t imagine Gabriel dressed in a tux like the Ken doll in that photo. I want us to look likeus.”

“Your fiancé is a rock star and you’re a fashion designer. You’d better not let him show up in jeans and those stupid boots.”

I didn’t care what Gabriel wore. A secondhand suit or jeans and a T-shirt with his hair all messy, it was all the same to me.

I was marrying the man, not the rock star.

Annika held up her hand. “Leave everything to me. I’ll plan the most fabulous wedding and all you’ll have to do is show up. And find the perfect dress, of course. We should go shopping next week. Oh, and we’ll need to sample cakes. Unless you want cupcakes. Or profiteroles would be fun. You know what? We’ll have a whole dessert buffet. Why choose?”

“Hold your horses there, Martha Stewart. We want something low-key and stress-free. Just a fun party to celebrate with our friends.”

“Let’s move that fun party to Waikiki or the South of France,” Annika said. “Or literallyanywhereother than Monks.”

“We haven’t made any firm decisions yet but when we do, you’ll be the first to know.”

She sighed. “Well, at least your runway show will be fabulous.”

My runway show was on Tuesday. As in three days from now. I still had a million things to do so as soon as Annika was done eating, I signalled for the check.

“You’re coming, right?” I asked as we walked out the door.

“Are you kidding? I’ll be sitting in the front row in my fabulous Cleo Babington creation.”

“You’ll be the star of the show.” I hugged her goodbye outside the restaurant. “I have to get back to work.”

Gabriel always said that I was running a fashion empire, but in reality, I only had a few people working for me in a cramped space I’d rented in Midtown. This would be my eighth collection, and my fourth runway show, but I still felt like I was winging it.

When I got home that evening, I checked the mail. Our marriage license had arrived.

I sprinted up the stairs and burst through the front door, excited to show Gabriel.

Then I remembered that he was at the recording studio so it would have to wait.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up to the rich scent of freshly roasted coffee.

“Rise and shine,” Gabriel said. “It’s your big day.”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

I sat up and he handed me a mug of coffee. Gabriel had gotten so into coffee that he was a connoisseur now. We’d gone from not even owning a decent coffee maker to having a whole coffee bar with a fancy Italian machine and specialty beans that he ground himself.