14 - J. T. Ellison [85]
Simon was stunned into uncharacteristic silence at the sight of Taylor in her wedding dress. Matt screamed louder while his father held the pacifier just a fraction away from his eager mouth. Taylor raised an eyebrow at him, and he blushed, realizing the teasing he was giving his cranky son. One entreating screech discharged, he nodded at Taylor.
“Nice dress, babe. You’re going to be a hit.”
“Thank you, kind sir. But we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t want Baldwin to be waiting on me. Let’s go do this.”
They gathered everything they could, tucked crying babies into car seats and left the suite. They made their way down the hall to the elevator, Simon lagging a few steps behind. Taylor looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. He needed help. She put a hand on Sam’s arm.
“I tell you what. Do you want to ride over with Simon? Help calm the babies down? I’ll be perfectly fine by myself in the limo.”
Sam shook her head. “No, I couldn’t let you do that.”
Taylor could feel the wave of relief the suggestion offered. “Yes, you could. It would probably do me good to have a few minutes to myself, anyway. Gear up for all this. Get my head in the game. Choose whichever sports analogy suits you. A little alone time would be good. And it’s only a ten-minute ride. Seriously, Sam, you go on with Simon.”
They hit the ground floor and spilled out of the elevator—white satin and silk flowed into the vast openness of the hotel lobby like a river of ice. Several heads turned, faces filled with delight. Who wouldn’t smile at the sight of a bride on her wedding day?
By the time they hit the doors, it was settled. Sam gave Taylor a grateful hug and tucked her into the limousine waiting at the front door. As the door slammed behind her, Taylor drew in what she thought had to be the first full breath she’d had all day. The back of the limo was creamy soft and dead quiet. Bliss. She sank back into the seat and shut her eyes, barely noticing the car leave the curb and start toward the church.
Alone at last.
Taylor felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was it, then, the point of no return. She just hoped she wouldn’t pass out at the altar. Good grief, her hands were shaking. Tough girl, falling apart at the mere idea of standing in front of all those people. The beginnings of a stream of panic made her heart start to beat a little harder. Stop! she told herself as sternly as she could muster. He’ll be standing there with you. A few deep breaths, and the trepidation was momentarily quelled.
She opened her eyes and took in the sights as the limo cruised through downtown Nashville.
They were on Sixth Avenue, and the driver turned west on Church Street. They came to a stop at the light in front of the downtown library. To her right, a group of homeless people caroused the park nestled between the buildings, seeking shelter from the chill day. A jogger passed across the street, glancing fearfully over his shoulder, as if the homeless would take him down like a pack of rabid dogs.
They were past Morton’s now. Down to her left on Eighth was the Nashville Sporting Goods store, the scene of her first armed robbery. The owner had been shot, but lived, thanks to her quick efforts to save his life. The suspect had never been arrested; the case was still open after twelve years. The owner was dead now, of natural causes. New victims manned the counters.
The YMCA appeared on her right, and she was struck by just how much crime occurred on this strip of road, how much of her history as a police officer could be traced to this route. She’d chased a man right there, up McLemore Street, dodging bullets as he shot at her in an attempt to get away. That one she’d caught, and seen him convicted for stabbing a twelve-year-old boy at the entrance to the Y.
The industrial grit of the city spilled