Chapter One KATIE
“I do . . . I do! . . . I-do . . .” I practiced my I do’s in the mirror until my voice went hoarse, and I didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. I’m not going to let a little strain on my vocal cords bother me, so I kept right on practicing.
“Hago eso!” That’s I do in Spanish.
“I do.” I smiled at the image in the mirror as she smiles back at me.
“I do . . .” Uh-oh there goes another I do along with what was left of my tired voice, but laryngitis is the least of my worries. Come to think of it I don’t have any worries at all. My life is absolutely perfect. Well, perfect if I could erase the fact that I flunked out of law school, or hide my two failed, very embarrassing attempts to become a licensed chiropractor. Did I mention how embarrassing that was? Then there is the teeny tiny little issue of me turning thirty next month without a degree. Ugh, now why did I have to go and bring that up? Usually, when I think of my failed college education, I go into my woe is me faze, but that wouldn’t be necessary, not today anyway. My life is finally on track. Excuse me; my love life is finally on track. I’m still turning thirty without a degree. I shouldn’t let that bother me, though, right? It’s just a piece of paper. Why do people make such a big deal about it? A degree doesn’t make me any less of a woman. I think if I keep telling myself that long enough, I might actually start believing it . . . Not! Truth be told, I will not be satisfied with myself until I pass the bar.
My father always said, “Katie,” that’s me, “determination without hard work means nothing.”
Now, Daddy never took the time to explain to me what it meant when you worked hard, had the drive, determination, a good education, and still ended up a failure. I’ll try to forget the unsuccessful portion of my life for now because I’m about to marry the man of my dreams, Doc tor Eric Reynolds. In less than two weeks, June seventh, after the priest announces us, husband and wife, I’ll be Mrs. Dr. Eric Reynolds. That has a nice ring to it. Speaking of rings, I blush as I look down at my hand to face the yellow gold, pear-shaped 5.98-carat engagement ring Eric placed on my finger that sparkles against my porcelain skin like glass out in the middle of the sea. Once I showed off the new rock I was wearing my girlfriends, and sisters were all blown away by Eric’s ring choice, as was I.
He has impeccable taste were the words that came tumbling out of my resentful sister Kyle’s mouth when she laid eyes on my ring. That night, when Eric and I announced our engagement, I could see the jealousy burning in Kyle’s pale face. That green-eyed monster almost swept her away right in front of us. She wished she had my life—she wanted it all for herself. I could tell she wants what Eric and I have so she could be the one about to marry a gorgeous, distinguished, wealthy doctor. I wanted so desperately bad to pat her on the back and tell her the love of her life was waiting for her right around the corner, but why lie? I don’t believe that, and neither will she. Kyle knew she would never have a man like my Eric. He’s successful, handsome, strong, a good provider, and has all of his own teeth. What would he, a well-to-do dentist, want with a woman like my thirty-four-year-old unemployed sister? Kyle has nothing going for herself, although there is one thing she has that makes me a little envious of her: a college degree. She has one of those online degrees, so I guess I really don’t envy her at all. What a loser!
Kyle reminds me of Kim Zolciak from The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Like Kim, Kyle is extra loud, boisterous, obnoxious, rude, and she has a bad false sense of self. The only good thing about my sister is she’s not like Kim Zolciak grabbing for a microphone to force her un-God given talent on us. Well, not anymore that is. Lo-ser.
Then there is my little sister Epiphany. She’s the youngest of us three. She’s the polar opposite of Kyle. I could actually stay in the same room with Epiphany longer than five minutes without a sudden urge to strangle her.
Epiphany looks up to me, still obeys whatever I say, and she doesn’t cross me. I like that in a woman. She’s also easygoing, soft-spoken, and knows exactly when to shut up. She even can offer up some good old fashion, sound advice at times. And you know, I find myself listening at times.
Epiphany doesn’t have a degree either. I guess she planted somewhere in the back of her mind she would retire from being a bank teller when she’s old and gray. Now, I think the only thing more pathetic than a twenty-six-year-old bank teller is a woman who would take the time and hang an online college degree on her wall for the world to see. Both of them are such losers!
Then there’s me: Kate Lynn Morgan. I would consider myself the sane one out of us three with a wonderful life. I’m everything I dreamt I would be. Just getting married at twenty-nine and childless wasn’t exactly in the plans, but hey, better late than never. I would like to believe that too, but I don’t. I thought I would be married at twenty-one, have my first child at twenty-three, pass the bar at twenty-five, and be ready for early retirement at forty.
My life didn’t quite work out that way, but I think I still have it going on. Some might even say I’m the total package. I’m intelligent with a great body and perfect skin. I have natural blonde shoulder-length hair, and a nice new set of boobs I bought and paid for last summer. I stand 5-foot-7 and weigh one hundred thirty-one pounds. I’m everything a man would want in a wife, so why did it take Eric Reynolds so long to find me?
One afternoon, I was patiently waiting in line at the library to check out some books when I spotted him standing two people ahead of me. I could smell his cologne from my position in line. It was either his scent or one of the two old ladies that separated us. I knew it wasn’t either of those hags; it was him. He was wearing a Marc Jacobs fragrance. I couldn’t make out exactly which one, but he smelled so good—good enough for me to knock down the two old ladies and get a little closer, but I knew that thought would pass. And it did. All I was interested in was going back home, eat over half of the cookie dough ice cream in my freezer, and cuddle up with a good book, maybe two. That’s not what I really wanted to do, but I had no other options. I didn’t exactly have a parade of gentleman callers lined up waiting for me. But little did I know, after a visit to the local library, I wouldn’t need a parade of gentleman callers, because now I would have just one. The right one: Eric Reynolds. No middle name, just Eric.
He said, “Hello there,” when I exited the library through the automatic sliding doors. At that point, I didn’t know if he was waiting for me or if he was just standing there. I didn’t ask because I didn’t care. Yes, I did! As I stood there looking up at him, my heart skipped beats as the fading sun melted into his golden-brown skin. My mind instantly started to race. I was no longer interested in any of the novels I planned on finishing that night. I could’ve cared less about the main characters, the plots, or the endings. This man, now standing right in front of me, snatched my attention and held it hostage.
After he introduced himself with, “My name is Eric Reynolds,” he repeated his first name and then spelled it out for me: “Eric, E-R-I-C.”
I thought that was kind of odd, but I didn’t question him; my mind was too occupied on what to say next. I thought about, “Hi, I’m Katie,” but settled on the second thing that came to my mind, which was, “Good for you, Eric Reynolds.”
I read in Cosmo coy is the new black. I have to remind myself to cancel my subscription.
My next reaction was to say something else before he walked away with a look of defeat on his face, but I didn’t have to worry about that because he didn’t walk away. He cracked a smile and said . . . uh . . . aw hell, I don’t remember what he said next. His smile, those dimples, the small cleft that rested at the bottom of his chin—his strong voice, his dark bedroom eyes . . . everything about him already had me mesmerized, so I had to know more. I wasn’t about to let him leave. Not now. Not yet. Not without my phone number. My e-mail address. My shoe size. Ring size. Something! I was on fire for the handsome stranger, but I kept my cool. Something else I read in Cosmo. Maybe I won’t cancel my subscription, after all.
“My name is Katie.” I wouldn’t dare say, Kate.
“Katie, huh . . .” His eyes pointed toward the plastic bag I was holding. “Carl Weber, James Patterson, F. Scott Fitzgerald.” He started rambling off the authors in my bag one by one. “I see you’re really into the fiction novels.”
At that moment, I felt so silly. I wasn’t planning to read Employment Law for Business by Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander and Laura P. Hartman when I left the library. It was clear I wasn’t going to be up late, refreshing my memory on the black-letter rules the same as I’d done the night before the bar exam. I didn’t have anything of substance in my bag. My reading material consisted of nothing but colorful make-believe, so I lied. “I’m just taking it easy tonight.” I winked at him when I said, “Lawyers need a night off too, you know.” I lied big time! I quickly switched the conversation without leaving him any more time to probe. I asked, “Where are your selections?”
“Actually, I just came to the library to do a little research.”
I didn’t bother to ask what he was researching; I was too busy staring into his beautiful mouth. Behind his full lips sat thirty-two of the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen.
Right then and there, he popped the question. There was no more small talk. No more flirting. He just did it. He asked, “Katie, will you . . .”
I thought this is it! My heart was on overload. I’d been waiting to hear these words my entire life. I wanted to leap into his arms and show him my gratitude for choosing me, but all I could say was, “I do!”
That’s when he looked at me. He grinned when he asked, “What did you just say?”
As I’m standing there panting for air—and trying to think of a valid retraction to my foolish outburst—Eric popped the question again. “Katie, will you . . . have dinner with me?”
Well, it wasn’t the marriage proposal I thought I heard fall from his luscious lips, but it was a start. In that instant, I could see myself carrying this man’s baby. Make that babies, as in more than one—more than ten if he wanted me to.
I wondered if that is what love, at first sight, feels like. I thought about phoning Epiphany and asking her opinion, but not before I accepted Eric’s dinner request. I had to say something fast and not another I do.
I calmed myself and felt an easy “Sure” evaporate from somewhere inside of me. I said sure even though I really wanted to say, “I do” because I did. I already loved this man. I think he felt it too because we’ve been inseparable ever since.
That was twelve months ago. I confessed to Eric the night he proposed to me that I fell in love with him right there at the library. I also confessed I wasn’t really a lawyer.
I love Eric even more now and was more than ready to become his wife.
“I do . . .” I started practicing again. My day had to be perfect. My gown, my hair, my makeup, my wedding, and my I do’s.
I wouldn’t allow anything to go wrong. I had the perfect man, at the perfect time and our lives will be perfect together . . .