He dared to reach out and touch her cheek. “I want to do it. So let me.”
They whisked Maisey away to another part of the house, while a winter wonderland was set up in her work room which was in actuality, the attic. He waited patiently until a woman handed him a suit, tie, shirt, and shoes.
“You can change downstairs,” she informed him.
He took a quick look at the shoes, as shoes were often the bane of his existence. Well, not really the shoes, they just tended to aggravate the situation. “These won’t fit. Too small,” he told her.
She looked down at his sneakered feet. “Well, those won’t do. Can’t you just squeeze your feet into them for a half hour or so?”
He let out an unpleasant chuckle. “No, it doesn’t work like that.” He reached down and lifted the material of his jeans on his left leg. The woman’s eyes widened as she stared for a few seconds before regaining her composure. “No problem. We won’t shoot your feet.” Her exit from the room was so fast she nearly tripped on her own feet on the way out.
In the second floor powder room, he shed his own clothing and dressed. Not too bad, he thought as he adjusted the cuffs of the crisp white dress shirt in front of the mirror, and slipped on the suit jacket. For a brief moment, he was taken back to his own wedding and the excitement of the day. It was nice. Nice to finally be marrying the woman he thought he’d be with for more than just a few years—though he disliked that he had no say in the wedding. Lisa and her parents made all the decisions, and he?d been fine with that—more or less. He didn’t care for the fact that none of his family or friends were asked to participate in the ceremony, and he’d heard whispers from friends of family members that they were hurt by the exclusion. So to keep the tenuous peace between his wife and his family, he said nothing. In the end, the wedding was nice.
He shook off the intrusive thoughts. It wasn’t like he was marrying Maisey today. Not that he was against a second marriage. He already went through all of the stages of grief after losing Lisa, and nearly losing his own life. When he thought of Lisa, there was the pain of her loss from his life, but the soul-destroying grief had softened, and with that came acceptance, and the hope of finding new love. Something up until today, he thought he might have found with Maisey.
He?d been told to go back to the third floor of the house, a large, open room with a peaked roof. Now it had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Christmas trees with colorful bobbles and lights, blankets of fake snow, and lights strung up to give the appearance of an outdoor wedding. There was a festively decorated table with a realistic three-tier wedding cake, which upon closer inspection, was actually Styrofoam. Cut crystal glasses bubbled with champagne, and flowers, flowers, flowers everywhere.
As he surveyed the scene, a clipboard was presented beneath his nose. He turned to find Blythe. “Before we can shoot, I need you to sign these standard releases,” she said, practically pushing a pen into his hand.
He drew his brows together. “What for?”
“So that Elegant Bride Direct can use the photos. If you don’t sign, we can’t use your photos.”
This was getting serious. He?d thought it was just a little photo shoot for some wedding blog that brides-to-be fawned over. Now he was being given release forms?
Blythe tapped her toes and he scanned the release. Use of his likeness, blah, blah, more blah, advertising purposes, blah...blah... It went on and on. It was something a lawyer probably should look over.
“Listen Sean...that is your name, right?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “We are really cutting it close with time. I really love Maisey’s stuff, and I’m making an exception to get her onto our blog for the holidays. If you don’t want to sign, let me know now so I can yet again change things up.” The impatience in her voice was clear.
He scrawled his signature and handed the clipboard and pen to Blythe. Who could it hurt?
No one. It was his life. If some soon-to-be bride wanted to look at photos of him standing in the middle of a fake Christmas wedding, then have at it. He was really doing this for Maisey.
“Very good,” Blythe said. “Now, why don’t you go see your Christmas bride. I think she’s just about ready.”