Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) by Stephanie Rowe Page A

with Harlan. He's got good morals." He held the door open. "Let's get this done. I'm sure you kids want a little time alone as newlyweds before Harlan leaves in the morning."
    Emma stared at the front hall, with its bare wood floor and its charming little entry table, afraid to take that final step across the threshold. Could she really do this? Young lovers? They weren't young lovers. They were two messed up people who needed each other for reasons that no one else would ever understand. "I don't think I can do thi—"
    "Emma!" Iris Hartmann hurried down the stairs, wearing a slightly wrinkled sundress with pink tulips on it. Her hair was hastily put up in a bun on the top of her head, with a few strands still hanging down. "This is so exciting! I've told Ned for years that you and Harlan were sweet on each other, but he never believed me. It's so obvious from the way you two look at each other."
    Emma swallowed as Harlan glanced at her. A quiet smile seemed to be hovering at the corners of his mouth. "I don't—"
    "Here you go." Iris handed her a pale blue silk item. "It's actually a hair scrunchie, but I think if you stretch it, it will work as a garter. It's mine, so that takes care of borrowed and blue, right?'
    The silk was cool and soft in her hand, and Emma clenched it in her fingers. Sweat was trickling down her back, and she felt faint—
    Harlan slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her upper body, folding his forearms across her chest and pulling her against him, into the shield of his body. "It's perfect, Iris," he said, resting his chin on Emma's shoulder. "Thanks for being so thoughtful."
    He sounded so warm and kind, and his body was so strong the way it was wrapped around her, that suddenly Emma's tension faded. This was nothing like her wedding to Preston, which had been in a huge church, with a ten-thousand dollar gown, and five hundred strangers in attendance in the hot Florida sun. Tonight, she was wearing shorts and a tank top, and her feet were in flip flops instead of two-thousand dollar stilettos. A used hair scrunchie for a garter. Seriously. Wasn't there some humor here? It wasn't the same. Harlan wasn't the same. He was strong and protective, a man who spent his life rescuing others. What kind of man did that? A good man, right? And she wasn't even really getting married, not really, not in the way that would strangle her, right? It would be okay. It would be okay.
    Iris sighed and put her hand over her heart. "Oh, did you see that, Ned? Emma's whole body relaxed when Harlan took her in his arms. That is love, my dear, such beautiful love." She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. "A marriage will never work until the man makes the woman feel safe. You guys will be perfect for each other."
    Emma looked back at Harlan. Across his left temple was a small scar, and his nose was crooked, as if it had been broken more than once. He exuded violence, and yet, Iris was right. The moment he'd wrapped his arms around her, her fear had seemed to fade. "Thanks," she whispered.
    Harlan winked at her.
    "And here is something new." Iris held up a box of Kleenex. "I'm afraid it's the only thing I had in the house that hadn't been opened yet." She handed it to Emma. "Just open it and tuck a few of them in your bra. That should do it."
    Emma couldn't help but laugh as she took the box. "Really?"
    "Of course really." Iris held up an ivory headband with a few bits of yellowed lace dangling from it. "This was my veil when I was married. I'm afraid that one of our dogs ate it a few years ago, but it will still work." She set it on Emma's head, tucking it behind her ears. "And there we have your 'old.' Now you can get married!"
    Harlan grinned at her. "You look beautiful, my darling." He flicked the dog-eaten veil out of her face, an amused and amazingly endearing smile on his face.
    "You think so?"
    "Absolutely." He squeezed her hand, and then led her down the hallway toward the back of the