Julia’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you serious?”
Her sister unzipped her bag, reached inside and carefully removed a beautiful, simple and alluring dress, the replica of what she’d worn before, but this time in its opposite shade. The shade of her wedding day.
“I knew you wanted to try to find something, but I had a feeling you wouldn’t like anything you found shopping, so I made a pit stop before we caught the flight. Just in case. Try it on.”
Julia slipped the dress over her head, then let the material fall down her body, over her hips, and her legs. It felt familiar and new all at once, from the hug of the silk, to the way it moved like water against her skin, to the smooth, soft feel of the straps on her shoulders. It showed just enough skin to be sexy, and covered enough to be classy.
She twirled once in front of the mirror. “This is the dress.”
McKenna launched herself into Julia’s arms, hugging her tight. “Let’s go get a ring for your man now. You only have one more hour before we have to get you to the church.”
Julia scoffed. “Church. Right.”
“It’s kind of like a church for you, though,” she pointed out.
“Yeah,” she said. “It kind of is.”
* * *
Brent was in charge of backup music, so Clay reminded him one last time. “No funny stuff,” he warned, lowering his sunglasses to give his brother a sharp stare as he cued up the song on his phone.
His brother held up his hands as if to say who, me?
“Yes, you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten all the stunts you pulled when we were growing up. Besides, if we have the timing right, we don’t even need the song.”
“No stunts at your wedding. I promise. I’m just glad I got an invite.”
Clay clapped him on the back. “Not just an invite. You’re the best man,” he said, then pulled his brother in for a hug. “I love you, bro.”
“Even though you had a crazy weekend in my town?”
“I’m having the best weekend ever in our town,” he said, as they pulled apart. A horn honked loudly from the Strip, not far from them.
His brother wiped a hand across his forehead, and Clay tugged at his own shirt. The sun was high above and was practically shooting balls of fire at them. But it was August in Vegas, so that was that. Besides, a man needed to get married in a suit, no matter the weather, so Clay had on his suit from the flight on Friday, freshly pressed. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt, and his purple tie. He ran a hand down the tie; he might retire it after today. This tie had given him so much already; it might be time to hang it up and thank it for its run. He didn’t want to take any more chances with it.
He looked at the time on his wrist. Twelve-forty. Five minutes if they wanted to make the timing work.
“Will the bride be here shortly?”
The question came from the justice of the peace, a smartly-dressed woman with short gray hair and a business-like manner.
“Any second,” Clay said, tipping his forehead to the blond man now running across the plaza in front of the Bellagio: his friend, his client, and the husband of Julia’s sister—Chris McCormick.
Chris stopped short a few feet away. “They’re about to come on down. I had to fix Julia’s necklace,” he said. “She wanted to wear it today.”
“You fixed that clasp?”
Chris shrugged casually. “I can fix pretty much anything,” he said, as a crowd of tourists stopped to snap photos. There would be many photos shot here today. They were about to get hitched in front of one of the icons of Las Vegas.
Then Clay’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Julia in the distance. Walking down the stone path outside the Bellagio alongside her sister, heading towards the fountains with hundreds of sprays of water forming a sort of elemental backdrop to their wedding. His heart nearly tripped over itself as he took in the sight of her in white, wearing a dress that looked as if it was hand-sewn for her. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she walked closer, the fountains behind them spraying a soft mist that cooled him off. Music played from the fountains, as it often did. “Luck be a Lady.” Any second it would shift into the song they’d picked last night to be their wedding song when they found the website that listed the timing and order of the fountain music. Since the wedding party consisted of six people—the justice-of-the-peace, the bride, groom, best man, maid of honor, and Mr. Fix It—they didn’t need a special permit. They were just a small group of people stopping in front of one of the top tourist attractions in this town.
As she walked across the plaza, a sprig of lilies in her hands, her sister by her side, the song began: “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. He and Julia didn’t have a song, but this tune fit the bill. You are all I long for . . . All I worship and adore. Because that’s how they felt for each other.