She Woke Up Married (25 page)

Three years later

“And waltz, and turn, and very nice ladies! Emma, pull your tights up. Little ladies can’t have saggy tights.” Paris tried not to laugh as her two three-year-old terrors danced together behind the much older preteen girls who had signed up for Paris Pruitt’s School of Girl Power. Millicent and Emmaline Pruitt weren’t ready for manners yet, that was for sure. Paris was lucky to get them dressed in the morning, and without Granny Millie’s help, she doubted anything would ever get done.

The girls turned and headed down to the other end of the long mirrored studio space, her daughters doing the toddler two-step behind the older girls. The bright music put more wiggle in them than grace.

And they never listened to her, only their daddy. Of course those two were wise women already, because if she’d just learned to listen to Turner sooner, she wouldn’t have wasted a minute resisting his charms.

After meeting his parents, it was easy to see where Turner got his patient and loving spirit. Not to mention his good looks. His dad was an equally handsome older version of Turner, and the nurses in the hospital had flirted with him shamelessly.

Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt were so gratful to Paris for making them grandparents that they instantly accepted her into their fold. She didn’t even want to think about what Turner had told them, but once, as they’d been washing a giant load of baby things together, his mother had said she and her husband had prayed together every day and night that all would be well for Turner and Paris.

Even in the weeks following the birth, when she’d felt the edge of darkness fold over her and a very mild depression start, they’d all been there beside her. Her doctor, Millie, her mother, and her in-laws all helping out. She’d survived it. She’d done no harm to anyone, and she’d learned an amazing lesson about love.

But Turner had been the best. Her husband had made sure she took all the treatments on time, and had made her round-the-clock snacks to keep her blood sugar even. He’d made sure
she’d gotten enough rest, and he’d shouldered more than his share of baby care, along with his parents and Millie. She was one lucky woman to have Turner in her life.

She’d come to see that although her mother’s problems had had many facets, not all were passed down to her.

She’d never been so grateful to a man in her life for standing by her through good times and bad. No man but Turner ever had.

She had quite a family now, including Millie. Something she’d never even dreamed of. And it was a good thing, because it was going to take a village to raise these two rascals. Her own mother and sister had pitched in when they’d been able to, and it was so wonderful to think that the girls had an Aunt Bonnie now. Paris and Bonnie never let a day pass without talking to each other on the phone. Hopefully Bonnie could swing a move to Vegas as soon as her husband found a new job.

Her mom’s suggestion to open this school had been brillant. Paris had loved the idea. She could teach these girls a thing or two, like it was great to be pretty, and makeup was extremely cool, but a girl has to tap into her inner warrior princess once in a while, because life can kick you in the butt unexpectedly.

She’d drifted off into her own thoughts, and she hardly noticed when the music changed
from Strauss to Elvis. The familiar opening guitar riff to “Jailhouse Rock” came blasting out of her stereo system.

And there was her husband, the hottest Elvis that ever lived, in his white studded Elvis duds, playing air guitar and singing, “Let’s rock, everybody let’s rock…” The girls went wild, including his own two. They ran smack into him and he lifted them like airplanes, one under each arm, while he twisted like Elvis. Paris thought they’d yak from squealing so much.

The older girls were doing their own squealing, and it was just all too funny for words. That’s what she got for buying the building behind the chapel and opening her studio where Turner could come and bust up her classes anytime he wanted. Although it had been a long time since she’d seen him
in the Elvis.

Paris walked over to Turner, who put down his redheaded daughters and grabbed her. She’d figured out long ago that she better know how to jitterbug with this Elvis, and at least now he could lift her in the air after three years of low carbs, aerobics, and Pilates torture.

He spun her out and all her girls started rocking around the room, the waltz abandoned, the beat of fifties rock and roll fully embraced.

As he dipped Paris backward and she saw the smiles on the faces of her daughters—upside
down—Paris knew she was completely blessed. Fools like her that rushed into crazy love must truly be looked after by the angels in charge of Las Vegas wedding chapels.