WHEN I WAS a little girl, I’d never imagined my wedding day. Other girls dreamed of princess dresses and Prince Charmings, and I only had the vague sense that I was different. I didn’t want those things—the cake and the centerpieces and the veil. They were inconsequential. I wanted a different kind of life.

But when the time came to marry Cal, I realized that I did want all the trappings of a beautiful, tearjerking wedding. I wanted to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I wanted him to bite his lip to stop it from trembling when he saw me. I wanted the photographer and the videographer and the evening of dancing. I wanted the dress, the flowers, the veil, the cake, the rings, the venue—all of it.

Cal made sure I got it.

My dress was Vera Wang. It was a marvel of silk with a sweetheart neckline and a ridiculous train. And, surprisingly, the silhouette was all princess. I discovered that for my wedding, I didn’t want simple cuts and interesting shapes at all. I wanted to look and feel as beautiful as I did every time Cal woke up beside me and wrapped me in his arms.

Alba squeezed my shoulders. She smiled at me with tears in her eyes, my son Luke in her arms. He reached his chubby little arms toward me—he was ten months old already—and my best friend tried to pull him back. “We can’t get your drool all over Mommy’s nice makeup and dress,” she chided softly.

“What’s a little drool on a designer dress?” I said with a laugh, taking my son in my arms. The first few months of his life had been hard—harder than I ever thought possible. But once we were cleared from the NICU, the tightness in my chest eased, and things just got better and better and better.

He looked at me with Cal’s eyes, a steady stream of dribble falling from his mouth as he reached for my carefully styled hair. He babbled, looking determined and intrigued by the possibility of yanking my hair. I laughed and dodged his grasping hands, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and handed him back to Alba.

“You are so cute,” I told him, touching his cheek and then straightening the tiny bowtie attached to his shirt.

“The cutest,” Alba agreed. “Except for mine.”

“Debatable,” I answered, and Alba laughed.

“Ready?” she asked.

I checked myself in the mirror one more time, blew out a breath, and nodded.

Planning an Italian destination wedding with an infant and a couple of businesses was not easy. Even as a very experienced and capable travel coordinator, it had been a nightmare to arrange all the logistics and keep track of all the details.

As I entered the ceremony room and all the guests turned to watch me walk down the aisle, I realized I shouldn’t have worried so much. All the flowers and the colors and the details that I’d agonized over for the past few months simply didn’t matter.

Because Cal was there, biting his cheek, his eyes brimming with tears.

I blinked, and I was in front of him. He lifted his hand to brush my cheek. “You’re crying already,” he whispered.

“I can’t help it.”

His smile was breathtaking. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Impossibly, his smile got brighter. Then we turned to the celebrant, and we got married.

When Cal finally kissed me, it was the best moment of the best day of my life. We faced our guests, hand in hand, and beamed before leading them to the reception.

Hours later, when my feet were throbbing from dancing in heels and my cheeks were sore from smiling, Cal and I tumbled into our suite overlooking the lake. Luke was with the nanny next door, and our guests were still partying loudly downstairs. For the rest of the night, it was just us.

The balcony doors were open, and a soft breeze ruffled the gauzy curtains. The night sky unfurled above, stars twinkling above the inky lake. Cal stood behind me as I leaned on the balcony railing, his hands finding the waistband of my dress. He pressed a kiss to my neck, and I let out a long sigh.

“Tired?”

I turned to face him, smiling. “I’ve still got a bit of energy left in me,” I replied. His grin was almost predatory. But when his lips descended toward mine, I lifted a hand to block them. “I have something for you,” I said. “A wedding present.”

“I’ll open it later,” he said as his fingers found the zipper at the back of my dress.

I laughed, ducking under his arm. “No. Open it now.”

“I want to open my other present now.” He caught me around the waist and tossed me on the bed. I bounced on my stomach and felt him tugging down my dress’s zipper.

I cackled. “You’ll wrinkle my dress!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Cal!”

He sighed, his forehead landing on my shoulder blade. “You really want me to open this present.”

“I really do.”

“And it can’t wait fifteen minutes?”

“No.”

“How about three minutes? I could do a lot in three minutes.”

Laughter tumbled out of me. “No,” I repeated, flipping around to face him. He crawled over the mattress above me, his palms pressing on either side of my head. He kissed me, languid, thorough, and I almost lost my resolve.

“Cal,” I mumbled against his lips.

He sighed again, my put-upon husband, and rolled off me. “This better be good.”

“It’s great,” I assured him, then shimmied out of my dress on my way to my suitcase. Laying it carefully over a chair, I paused to glance over my shoulder when I heard Cal’s satisfied grunt.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” he said, eyebrows bouncing at the sight of my undergarments.

I had on lace stay-up stockings, a garter belt, and my body was stuffed in corseted shapewear. I pursed my lips and found his present. It was a flat rectangle wrapped in gold paper. Joining him on the bed again, I straddled Cal’s hips as I gave him his present. He felt the edges of it as I lowered myself on top of him, grinding lightly against his tuxedo-clad body.

He groaned as his finger slipped against the wrapping paper. “Keep doing that,” he said, voice rough.

“Open it,” I commanded.

He tore at the wrapping paper and frowned, then flipped around the simple black frame to see what was displayed inside it. Then he laughed. The frame landed on the pillows beside us, and Cal bucked his hips to make me go tumbling beside him. Suddenly, I was on my back, and he had my hands pinned above my head.

Breathless, I asked, “You like it?”

“I’m keeping it forever,” he growled, peppering my jaw and neck with kisses.

I arched into his touch, wriggling as he moved lower, and lower, and lower. He tugged my underwear aside, leaving the garters, stockings, and corset where they were. I inhaled sharply as he licked me with the flat of his tongue, then moaned when he started lavishing my bud with attention.
Eyelids fluttering, my head turned to the side.

The frame had slid down from the pillows, and I could see clearly what the professional framer had so beautifully displayed against the white mat board and black frame.

A snippet of an email stared back at me—the one that had forced me to face the feelings I’d worked so hard to deny.

~I have a crush on my boss.~