Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,166

way Kristine had always wanted. As she stepped into the gazebo, the sudden warmth from the heat lamps made her cheeks flush.

“This is so beautiful,” she murmured, looking out at the silent night and the garden, its rosebushes frosted in snow. “Charley, I can’t believe my mother ever wanted you to tear this place down.”

“Well, I was wrong,” June chuckled. Giving a meaningful look at Kevin, she said, “It happens on occasion.” Patting him on the back, she said, “Kristine, you made a really good choice with this one.”

“Oh, I know.” She studied her husband. His ruddy face was neatly shaven, his hair combed perfectly in place. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“If someone would have told me, back on our wedding day, that the time would come where I would love you even more,” she told him, “I wouldn’t have believed them. But with every day that passes, I do.”

Kevin’s eyes misted with tears. He started to say something, but was too choked up to speak. He tried to chuckle, but ended up just shaking his head.

Kristine handed her bouquet to their daughter and reached for his hands. This time, it was her hands that steadied his. “I love you,” she said. “All I have ever wanted was to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The priest stepped forward, opening the Bible. “Are we ready?”

“You sure you want to do this?” Kristine teased, just as Kevin had so many years ago.

He smiled. “More than anything in the world.”

“Dearly beloved,” the priest began.

Flakes of snow drifted down around them like baby’s breath.

Eighty

Chloe was running late. Her stupid curling iron was broken, so she dragged out an old set of Clairol rollers from the back of the linen closet. They were covered in a layer of dust and even after ten minutes they were barely hot to the touch.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” Chloe looked at the clock. “Hurry up!” She only had an hour until she was supposed to be at the church to help her grandmother get ready. By the time she tamed her hair, got dressed and called a cab, she would be lucky if she got to the church on time.

Picking up her phone, Chloe called her mother and put her on speaker. “Hey,” she barked when Kristine picked up. Grabbing a lukewarm roller, she started wrapping her hair around it. “I might be five minutes late. Or thirty.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not getting married today,” her mother sang. “You’d be late for your own wedding.”

“Ha-ha.” Chloe cringed at the thought. Geez. It really was a good thing she wasn’t getting married today, in more ways than one. “Alright. I love you. See you—”

There was a pounding at the door and Chloe stood stock-still. The series of knocks were more than a little familiar. Quickly, she said, “Mom? I’ve gotta go.”

Whiskers was already at the door by the time Chloe got there. Reaching out to open it, she remembered the curlers in her hair. Shit! Oh, well. It wasn’t like Ben hadn’t seen her like this before.

Chloe threw open the door. “I’m sorry about my hair,” she said. “I look . . .” Her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of him.

Ben was devastatingly handsome in a navy blue suit. His hair was cut close to his head and a slight shadow of a beard covered his face. His eyes were the most radiant shade of blue that she had ever seen.

Chloe gulped. Suddenly, she had no idea what to say. “Um . . .”

Reaching down, Ben pet Whiskers. The cat weaved in and out of his legs, purring like crazy. Dropping a new toy on the floor, Whiskers batted at it in delight. Chloe couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across her face. Ben was so good-looking and so . . . kind that it just seemed a little unfair. In fact, she wanted to kick him in the shins.

Getting to his feet, Ben grinned. “Should I come back? Give you a few minutes? I mean, I don’t know if you’re planning on pulling out your makeup chart or . . .”

Chloe laughed. “No, no. Come on in.” As he walked past her, she had to put a hand on the wall as though to steady herself or, rather, to not reach out and try to tackle him.

“You alright?” he asked, turning to face her.

Actually, no. The sight of him in that suit was almost too much to handle.

“I’m

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