Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [3]
One former beau had described Megan as the girl-next-door type with her dark brown hair, blue eyes and freckles. Megan wasn’t sure she liked being a “type.” She knew one thing for sure—her fashion style was vintage. The classic 1950s dress she was wearing as the maid of honor was a perfect example. The pin-tucked black-taffeta-and-velvet dress had a scooped neck and full skirt, which made it both classic and elegant.
Faith looked beautiful in her wedding gown, a simple strapless design. She’d chosen a black-and-white theme with red rose accents for her evening ceremony.
Staring at their side-by-side reflection in the mirror, Faith said, “When we were growing up on the South Side of Chicago, did you ever think we’d end up here with me getting married at the Venetian in Las Vegas?”
Megan grinned. “Sure. Didn’t you?”
“I knew we’d both be librarians when we grew up.” Faith grabbed Megan’s hand before turning to face her. “You know you’re more like my sister than my cousin, right?”
Megan blinked away the tears. “Yeah, I know. Now don’t make me cry.” She waved her free hand in front of her face. “My mascara will run.”
“Oh, no. What would Jane Austen say?” Faith teased her.
“Funny how you ended up going back to Jane Austen after trying to come up with some other incarnation,” Megan said.
“Funny how you didn’t have a similar identity crisis.”
Megan had had her identity crisis at a much younger age and then moved past it. Faith had grown up with both parents. Megan hadn’t. Sure, her dad had done his best to be there for her, but he couldn’t replace a mother. Faith’s mom had done her best too and Megan loved her to bits for trying. But it wasn’t the same.
As if on cue, Faith’s mom entered the room. “How are things going in here? Everything under control?”
“Absolutely.” Today, Megan was all about control: the music, the flowers, the seating arrangement for the ceremony, the meal afterward. She’d checked and double-checked it all.
“You two.” Faith’s mom blinked back tears. Unable to continue, she instead simply cupped their cheeks.
Megan was well aware that the number two was a recurring theme in her life. She and Faith were born two days apart and lived two blocks apart. Megan’s dad was two years younger than Faith’s dad and two inches shorter. Her mom had died when she was two. Megan had only had sex with two men in her life.
Okay, she was sonot going there today. This was all about Faith, not her. The only setback in the wedding plans had occurred when Caine’s best man had to have emergency surgery two days earlier and hadn’t been able to make the trip. Again with the number two. Megan and Faith’s paternal grandmother was dating crusty private investigator-retired cop Buddy Doyle, who’d stepped in as a last-minute replacement. Otherwise everything was going smoothly.
Which was the way Megan liked it. Maybe it was the librarian in her, wanting to keep things orderly. She didn’t subscribe to the Chaos Theory in life. To her way of thinking, things were always better when they were organized and categorized. Like this wedding . . .
“Are you ready?” Megan asked.
Faith nodded.
“Okay then.” Megan handed her the colorful Romanza bouquet of fresh red-tipped roses and greenery. “Let’s go.”
Faith’s dad met them right outside the Venetian’s wedding chapel. This was no Elvis impersonator drive-through wedding location. This was the elegant side of Las Vegas.
Megan walked toward the front of the room to the accompaniment of the Pachabel Canon. There were about two dozen guests present.
Megan’s eyes teared up again when she saw the look of love on Caine’s face as he got his first view of his bride-to-be. The two of them were meant for each other.
The ceremony was simple but moving. The minister said, “I now pronounce you—”
The doors at the back of the chapel flew open and a man ran into the room to bark out an order. “Stop the wedding!”
Logan Doyle hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. He’d just worked a double shift before hopping a plane to Vegas at his family’s insistence.