Page 141 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
Itwasdivine. The dress, the veil, the silk-covered shoes that tied with ribbons around her ankles, the posy of white old-fashioned roses tied with mingled white and blue ribbon. The bridesmaids in their pale blue vintage style dresses with white rosebuds twisted through their hair. The little boys in adorable mini white tuxedos.
As she walked down the magnificent staircase on her father’s arm, Andie didn’t need the guests’oohsandaahsto know she looked her best and the bridal party was breathtaking. She felt surrounded by the people she cared for most—and who cared for her. She wouldn’t wish anything to be different.
Dominic was waiting for her at the wedding arch, flanked by his best man, Jake Marlow—tall, broad-shouldered, blond and not at all the geek she’d imagined him to be—with her brothers and Rob Cratchit as groomsmen.
She knew she had to walk a stately, graceful bride’s walk towards her husband-to-be. But she had to resist the temptation to pick up her skirts and run to him and the start of their new life as husband and wife.
Dominic knew the bridesmaids looked lovely and the little attendants adorable. But he only had eyes for Andie as she walked towards him, her love for him shining from her eyes.
As she neared where he waited for her with the celebrant, a stray breeze picked up the fine layers of her gown’s skirts and whirled them up and over her knees. She laughed and made no attempt to pin them down.
As her skirts settled back into place, their glances met and her lips curved in an intimate exchange of a private joke that had meaning only for two. It was just one of many private connections he knew they would share, bonding and strengthening their life as partners in the years of happy marriage that stretched out ahead of them.
Finally she reached him and looked up to him with her dazzling smile. He enfolded her hand in his as he waited with her by his side to give his wholehearted assent to the celebrant’s question. ‘Do you, Dominic Hugo Hunt, take this woman, Andrea Jane Newman, to be your lawful wedded wife?’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Christmas Day the following year.
ANDIESTOODWITHINthe protective curve of her husband’s arm as she admired the fabulous Christmas tree that stood in the entrance of their Vaucluse home. It soared almost to the ceiling and was covered in exquisite ornaments that were set to be the start of their family collection, to be brought out year after year. Brightly wrapped gifts were piled around its base.
Christmas lunch was again being held here today, but this time it was a party for just Andie’s family and a few other waifs and strays who appreciated being invited to share their family’s celebration.
The big Scrooge-busting party had been such a success that Dominic had committed to holding it every year. But not here this time. This year he’d hired a bigger house with a bigger pool and invited more people. He’d be calling in to greet his guests later in the day.
Andie hadn’t had to do a thing for either party. She’d had her input—how could a Party Queen not? But for this private party the decorating, table settings and gift-wrapping had all been done by Dominic and her family.
After much cajoling, Andie had convinced her father to transfer his centre of cooking operations to Dominic’s gourmet kitchen—just for this year. Although Dad had grumbled and complained about being away from familiar territory, Andie knew he was secretly delighted at the top-of-the-range equipment in the kitchen. The aromas that were wafting to her from the kitchen certainly smelled like the familiar traditional family favourites her father cooked each year. She couldn’t imagine they would taste any less delicious than they would cooked in her parents’ kitchen.
It was people who made the joy of Christmas and all the people she cherished the most were here to celebrate with her.
And one more.
The reason for all the disruption lay cradled in her arms. Hugo Andrew Hunt had been born in the early hours of Christmas Eve.
The birth had been straightforward and he was a healthy, strong baby. Andie had insisted on leaving the hospital today to be home for Christmas. Dominic had driven her and Hugo home so slowly and carefully they’d had a line of impatient cars honking their horns behind them by the time they’d got back to Vaucluse. He was over the moon about becoming a father. This was going to be one very loved little boy.
‘Weren’t you clever, to have our son born on Christmas Eve?’ he said.
‘I’m good at planning, but notthatgood,’ she said. ‘He came when he was ready. Maybe...maybe your parents sent him.’ She turned her head so she could look up into Dominic’s eyes. ‘Now Christmas Eve will be a cause for celebration, not mourning, for you.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It will—because of you.’
Andie looked down at the perfect little face of her slumbering son and felt again the rush of fierce love for this precious being she’d felt when the midwife had first laid him on her tummy. He had his father’s black hair but it was too soon to tell what colour his eyes would be.
Her husband, he-who-would-never-be-called-Scrooge-again, gently traced the line of little Hugo’s cheek with his finger. ‘Do you remember how I said last year was the very best Christmas of my life? Scratch that. This one is even better.’
‘And they will get better and better,’ she promised, turning her head for his kiss.
As they kissed, she heard footsteps on the marble floor and then an excited cry from her sister Bea. ‘They’re home! Andie, Dominic and baby Hugo are home!’