Must-Have Husband

memory.
    Elizabeth held up her hand in a pledge. “No kneeling in the dress, even during a Catholic ceremony.”
    “And absolutely no dancing,” Connie added with a stern shake of her head. “There are fines involved.”
    “Fines?” Mac asked with surprise.
    “You don’t even want to know!” Connie retrieved the heavy book and set it back on the dresser.
    Both women tilted their heads, admiring the dress as if it were some sort of sacred oracle.
    “The important thing is to keep it preserved,” Elizabeth said.
    Connie looked at Mac. “For the next generation.”
    He swallowed hard, wondering if he’d want his own daughter accepting such an enormous responsibility. There might be two Books of Rules by then. But instead of saying so, he just smiled tightly and said, “Right.”
    “Right! Right!” Gilbert echoed.
    Elizabeth eyed the happy couple. “So, you two lovebirds. When’s the big day?”
    Connie flushed. “I already told you, Mom. We’re still working on it.”
    “Well, don’t dillydally forever. We can only keep the dress out of storage so long. Rule number twenty—”
    “Four,” Connie finished for her.
    “Precisely. And now that it’s here…” She shot Mac a sly wink. “We might as well use it.”
    “I’m sure Connie and I will take that into consideration, Mrs. Oliver.”
    “Please, call me Elizabeth.”
    “Elizabeth.”
    “I think I’ll just pop down the hall and see how the birthday boy is settling in for the night,” she told the others. Connie and Mac started to follow her out the door, but she stopped them with a wave of her hand. “Why don’t the two of you stay here and discuss timing a bit? Perhaps being in the presence of the dress will inspire you?”

    After she’d shut the door, Connie heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry to have put you through that.”
    “It was no trouble.” He strode toward the dress to examine it more closely. It really was quite nice, for that sort of thing, he supposed. Not that Mac was accustomed to seeing too many of them. “It’s pretty special to have something like this in your family.” He met Connie’s gaze. “You’re very lucky to get to wear it.”
    Her eyes flashed with hurt, then watered slightly. “I can’t believe you actually said that.”
    “What? What did I say?”
    Connie brought a hand to her chest as she spoke. “That I was so lucky to get to wear it?”
    “Well, aren’t you?” he asked, dumbfounded.
    She huffed. “In a perfect world, yes. In this world — the one that you and I live in? — I don’t see it happening any time soon. Do you?”
    Mac felt horrible that he’d somehow inadvertently offended her. “Connie, I didn’t mean to make you—”
    “To what, Mac? Rub in the fact that my family has ordered up the traditional wedding gown, and Constance Marie Oliver is — once again — without a groom?”
    “I’m here as long as you need me,” he said softly.
    “Oh good,” she said, her voice coming out in a whimper as tears leaked from her eyes. “That means until the end of the weekend, doesn’t it?”
    She reached up a hand to wipe back her tears and raced from the room as Mac tried to stop her. “Connie, wait!”
    But it was too late. She’d already bolted out and slammed the door. Mac looked down, feeling his boot had caught in something. Oh God, it was the train of the sacred dress. He jumped back with a start, his boot tip yanking the length of fabric forward. “Noooo!” Mac yelped as the mannequin began teetering in the opposite direction. He lunged to catch it, his knees crashing into the front of the dress. Rip. Mac’s stomach clenched at the sickening tearing sound as he and the mannequin tumbled headlong onto the carpet. The mannequin’s head hit the floor and popped off with a crack , rolling across the floor like a bowling ball with a swirling bridal veil attached. “Holy crap, I’ve killed her!” Mac cried with a moan.
    “Holy crap! Holy crap!” Gilbert parroted. “Killed her! Killed her! Killed her!”
    Great, now I’ve got a witness. Mac scrambled to his feet and carefully righted the mannequin. But, try as he might, he couldn’t get the torn dress to stay up or the severed head to stay on. “Oh boy,” he breathed as his heart beat faster. “I’m doomed.”
    To his horror, the bird began singing to the tune of “Here Comes the Bride . ”
    “Doom-doom-de-doom! Doom-doom-de-doom! Squawk!”
    Mac ran his fingers through his hair, trying to gather his