by M. S. Parker
“Don’t be silly.” A hint of impatience threaded through his voice, and again I was reminded of a parent speaking to a child. “You don’t have to languish anywhere. My mother is rarely home. She’s constantly getting involved in charities and various causes.”
“Like taking over my wedding?” The words popped out before I could stop them and immediately, I wanted to kick my own ass. I struggled to keep my temper in check. I hated how patronizing he was sounding and I had to remind myself that we were still learning about each other. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But dammit, Edward, I’m not your mother. I’m not a society wife. And if you would recall, you told me she ran Bouvier for years until you were ready to take over. She was the consummate business woman.”
“She had to be!”
His voice echoed through the room, surprising us both. It was the first time I’d ever seen him anything but calm and collected. As I stared at him, he turned away and braced his hands on the back of a chair. His shoulders strained against the material of his shirt as he took in one deep, steady breath, then another. Four breaths later, he turned to look at me.
“She did what was necessary for the company, for the family, but it’s not necessary for you to work, Gabriella. I can provide for you.”
“I don’t need that.” He just couldn’t see it and I didn’t know how to make him see it. A headache pulsed right behind my eyes and I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead in a desperate attempt to ward off the pain.
It didn’t help.
I sank back into my chair, staring at the food I no longer wanted. I’d only eaten a couple of bites of the steak, maybe two bites of my potato. Now the thought of eating made my stomach churn. “I’ve been taking care of myself a long time, Edward. I like taking care of myself and I like working.”
“You hated your job as an assistant,” he reminded me.
“No…” I took my time answering, because he wasn’t exactly right, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “It wasn’t the job that I hated, per se. I hated my boss. There were people around that I liked and I learned a lot. I quit because I was stuck in that particular spot and I wasn’t going to move up. I hated that. Just because I was stuck there doesn’t mean I’ll be stuck with the next one.”
Hearing him approach, I looked up. He sat down in the chair in front of me and reached out, taking my hands in his.
“This matters to you,” he said slowly.
“Yeah.” Shrugging, I twined our fingers and lifted them so I could kiss the back of his hand. “I went to college, I moved here, all of that because I wanted to pursue a career. I want to be a screenwriter, Edward. It’s been a dream of mine for almost my entire life.”
“Okay then.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “If that’s your dream, then you should continue to chase it. We all dream about the impossible, Gabriella.”
For a moment, the weight in my chest had started to lift. Then those last few words registered and the weight came down again, even heavier now. Dream about the impossible…?
Chapter 10
“I think he just expects me to turn into a clone of his mother. Attending charity events and shopping. Making somebody’s life miserable,” I muttered the last part. Phone propped against my shoulder, I ran down the list of the people we’d invited this weekend, comparing it to the people who’d RSVP’d. Small or not, there were a few select people Edward had insisted we invite. They might not come, but we had to invite them. Still, the wedding would be attended by less than thirty, which was a great deal smaller than the people who’d already confirmed attendance to the October ceremony.
On the other end of the line, Kendra was oddly quiet. She’d been my roommate since I’d moved to New York and quiet wasn’t a word I’d ever used to describe her. Gorgeous, definitely. Stubborn. Full of life. Opinionated. Yes, all those things. Quiet? Not so much.
Still, I didn’t try to analyze it. I had enough on my mind already. “I mean, really, do you see me sitting around and discussing whether or not we should have a five hundred dollar plate dinner or a golf scramble to fund the next Meals on Wheels fundraiser? Smiling politely at someone like Stacia Vanderbelt, all the while knowing she was going to tear me to shreds behind my back. I’m all for supporting great causes, but that’s not me, Kendra.”
“No…I know.” The tension in her voice was so thick, I could have cut it with a knife.
I stopped what I was doing, eyes narrowing. “Why do I hear a but in your voice?”
“You don’t. I know you’re not into the stuff his mom enjoys. It’s just...” She sighed. “Shit, Gabs. He wants to take care of you and you act like that’s a bad thing.”
For a second, I didn’t even know how to answer that. I was too stunned by the fact that she’d gone from telling me I was making a huge mistake rushing into this marriage and how she was looking out for me, to defending behavior that I’d thought for sure a feminist like her would despise.
I struggled to keep my voice calm. “Didn’t you hear anything I said? I already said it’s sweet of him to be willing. That’s not what I’m upset about.”
“Then what are you upset over?” Her voice came out harsh.
What the hell was her problem? I snapped back at her. “I’m upset that he doesn’t get I’m serious about my career as a writer. Would you like it if you were in my position and he patted you on the head and implied that your desire to be taken seriously as a model was just chasing an impossible dream?”
“For the record, I’m already working as a serious model.”
I stiffened, her comment cutting straight through me. Never once, in the years we’d known each other, had she ever not supported my career choice. She’d never held it over my head that I’d been trying—and failing— to break into the business while her own career kept going at a steady incline.
In the taut silence that followed her words, I could hear her breathing over the phone and I could count the beats of my own heartbeat. A good twenty seconds passed before either of us attempted to say anything.
“Well, I guess that puts me in my place,” I said quietly. Tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. Just because she couldn’t see them didn’t mean I wanted to let them out.
“Gabs…” She sounded as miserable as I felt. “Honey, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re serious about your writing and I know how hard you’re working. But...look, he loves you. He wants to take care of you and make you happy. You used to talk about how much you hated seeing so many homeless in the streets. Now you’ve got a man who will give you free access to his bank account. You could raise awareness and work at the shelters, all sorts of things. He’s being generous and sweet and you’re mad at him.”
“No.” I swallowed, hurting even more now than I had been last night. I’d thought she of all people would understand. She’d been on her own since she was nineteen, trying to make it in a field that was nearly impossible to break into. My voice was quiet as I spoke, “I’m not mad. I’m hurt. I’d hoped you’d understand that, but I guess I was wrong. I’ll talk to you later.”
Before she could say anything else, I hung up.
When she called back, I didn’t answer.
***
Reservations for brunch.
I drew a line through it and made a note next to it. That was done. My to-do list was now down to three things.
I had to pick up Edward’s gift.
I had to pack for the lodge.
I had to buy lingerie to wear under my dress.
I was cutting it close and I’d planned on asking Kendra if she’d wanted to spend the afternoon running around with me to get two of those errands done, but that wasn’t going to happen. The way things were going lately, I’d be surprised if I still wanted her in my wedding party.
“I’ll call Paul.” Talking to myself wasn’t quite the same as talking to a friend, but it was better than steaming and stewing in silence.
And yeah, I coul
dn’t really model any pretty lacy bits for Paul and speculate about how Edward would like them, but he could drive me around and talk to me. Somehow, his mild, easy manner always managed to make me feel better.
As I was reaching for the phone, it started to ring. The sight of Edward’s picture flashing across the screen didn’t do anything to settle my already jangled nerves. For a half second, I almost didn’t answer.
“Hello.”
“Gabriella.” There was a world of caution and reservation in his tone.
Slumping down in the chair, I closed my eyes. Just a few more days. Once the wedding is over, you’ll feel better.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for lunch. Paul can drive you…”
“I’m not feeling well, Edward. It’s probably not a good idea.” I cut him off with the half-truth, ignoring the sharp stab of guilt that twisted through me. I did have a headache, but it wasn’t bad enough to stop me from doing something I truly wanted to do. Tightening my grip on the pencil I held, I stared at the sheet in front of me until it started to blur.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “Should I come home?”
“It’s just a headache.” Rolling my eyes, I pushed back from the desk. “I was going to take some ibuprofen and lay down for a little bit. I’m sure that will help.”
“Are you certain? I could call for a car, be there in thirty minutes. I—”
“No.” Now the headache was pulsing. “Edward, it’s a headache. It’s not that big a deal.”
By the time I had him off the phone, the dull headache had turned into a blade and it was stabbing me straight through the temple. Dropping my head down onto my folded arms, I mumbled, “I don’t need medication. I need a margarita.”
But I didn’t have time for that. I needed to buy new underwear and the gift for Edward. Swearing, I shoved back up. My elbow hit the computer mouse and the screen flared to life.
Today’s Job Listings!
The email from a local agency. It was how I’d landed my last job, so I’d stayed on their mailing list, but nothing promising ever seemed to come of it. Reaching out, I grabbed the mouse, finger hovering, ready to delete. That’s when I saw it.
***
“Yes, sir. For two years.” I sat on the floor with my back against the desk. My legs were crossed, my fingers crossed. If it wouldn’t have made my headache worse, I would have crossed my eyes too.
I hadn’t deleted the email.
I’d actually read it and when I’d recognized one of the names, I’d attacked my phone, digging through the contacts for a number. We’d met only once, briefly, but he’d given me his number and told me to call him when I had more experience.
I had experience now, and more, I had determination.
This, if it happened, would be perfect.
“I’ll tell you what, Ms. Baine, if you can work for that...well, you know, you can probably work with just about anybody.” The man’s name was Benny Stern and his Bronx accent was absolutely amazing. “I need to see some of your work. I’m talking to people next week, Tuesday and Thursday.”
Deflated, I let a groan slip out when it was the last thing I should have done. “Shit.”
“Problem?”
“Well…yeah. I’m getting married Saturday. I’ll be away with my…well, my new husband for a few days.”
“Well, I’ll be. Congratulations, a few days early. Hmmm…let me think, let me think…”
A few minutes later, I hung up the phone, beyond dazed.
I had an appointment. Not just with some small-time, Saturday Night Live wannabe. No, I had an appointment with Benny Stern, one of the biggest names in sitcoms. Out here on the east coast, he was the name.
I couldn’t believe it.
***
I didn’t just pick up one set of lingerie. Not even two or three. After all, we were taking a mini-honeymoon. I needed plenty of sexy stuff for that. But I also wanted something special for tonight. We were celebrating. Even if he didn’t understand, I knew Edward would be happy for me.
Practically floating through the afternoon, I called back to the house, making plans with the chef for dinner. Finally, finally, something was going my way and I felt like a weight had fallen from my shoulders.
A case of nervous excitement had butterflies jittering around in my stomach and I was all but running around right up until I got the text from Paul, letting me know he’d be there with Edward in less than thirty minutes. I’d asked for a head’s up earlier because I wanted to surprise him with a nice meal—nicer than anything I could do without a lot of preparation—and I wanted to make sure I was ready too, when he came through the door.
The staff had finished up and left not even five minutes before I heard the car coming to a stop in front of the house. With one last glance in the mirror to check my make-up and hair, I hurried down the steps, heels in hand. At the bottom, I stepped into them, fluffed my hair and smiled just as the door opened and Edward came inside.
Moving toward him, I rose onto my toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Hello, handsome.”
“Hmmmm.” He stood there as I kissed him, one hand stroking down my back and coming to rest just above my ass.
I lowered myself back down, the excitement building inside all over again, bubbling up like champagne.
The distracted look on Edward’s face had some of those little bubbles popping.
“Is everything okay?” I eased back, smiling as I stroked his cheek, wondering if he’d notice the dress or my hair, only to chastise myself a moment later. Edward always noticed things like that. That was what he did.
“Of course.” With his hand on my elbow, he guided me away from the door. When he started to lead me toward his study, I caught his hand, turning around and walking backward, pulling him along with me.
“Come on.” Grinning, I angled my head toward the arched entry. Music played softly and candles glowed from the mantle and the table. “Dinner’s done.”
He paused in the doorway.
I held my breath. Now he’d ask what was going on and I could tell him my news. Whatever had him so distracted would fade away and we could celebrate.
“This looks lovely.” His fingers danced along the back of my neck before he moved to pull out my chair.
Deflated, I slid into the seat and waited for him to take his. Maybe it was too much to ask for him to inquire about why I’d made things special. Maybe he assumed it was about the upcoming wedding so he wasn’t curious. I couldn’t fault him for that. I’d just come out with it then.
“I had lunch with Kendra today.”
I jerked so hard, my hand knocked my water glass. Catching it before it could spill, I stared at the drops beading on the polished table. “I…” I frowned and shook my head. It was strange, but not concerning, though I wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell me. “Okay. I assume you had a nice lunch?”
“We talked.” Edward lifted his glass of wine, but put it down without drinking. “Sweetheart, we’re both concerned.”
“Concerned.” Drawing the word out, I stared at the drops of water, concentrating on them instead of looking at Edward. He hadn’t commented on my clothes or my hair or the meal. Hadn’t noticed that I’d been excited when he’d come home. But he was telling me about his lunch with Kendra and how concerned they were. “I had a headache earlier. It was just a headache.”
“It’s not that.” He gave me a gentle smile with a hint of condescension. “It’s, well, Gabriella, it’s a little bit of everything. You’re short-tempered with my mother. You don’t seem to appreciate how much she’s doing for you. When I asked you about why you want to work, you got upset—”
“I got upset because you don’t seem to understand that I like to work. I don’t need you to take care of me. It’s sweet that you want to, but why can’t you just respect that I like providing for myself?” I’d had enough. If I had to listen to much more of his concern, I wouldn’t be able to maintain a civil tone.
The slim
fitting dress I’d put on especially for tonight suddenly seemed too hot, too confining and the heels I’d picked out just for him were killing my feet. I kicked them off as I twisted my carefully tousled hair into a careless knot. I didn’t have anything to hold it into place, though, so I shoved back from the table and stormed out into the entryway and grabbed my purse from the Queen Anne table sitting under the mirror. After finding a band for my hair, I twisted it up again and went back into the dining room.
Edward opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could start again. “And your mother? I’m supposed to appreciate the way she bends over backward to make me feel small and worthless? How she tries to take my wedding and make into something about her?” Wrinkling my nose, I mimicked her tone as I repeated some of her more caustic comments, “Gabriella, darling, I realize you don’t understand how these things work, but really, make sure your family knows they do need to wear appropriate clothing…no blue jeans to the wedding, please.” I took a step toward him. “Really, Gabriella. Some rag off a discount rack won’t do for a Bouvier.”
“You’re overreacting,” he said, his voice calm.
“The hell I am!” I snapped, my accent coming back with a fury. “She was pissed that I actually bought my dress without getting her approval. My wedding and I wasn’t supposed to buy the dress I wanted. She keeps harping on my family’s appearance, like she thinks they’ll be dressed in overalls and sweat-stained wife-beaters, and you’re telling me that I’m just supposed to let her insult me and mine without batting an eyelash?”
Without even being there, Claire had managed to ruin things. Now I was so upset I was about ready to cry and I spun away, dashing at the tears before they could fall. My makeup was ruined anyway. The whole damn night was ruined. I couldn’t even have one night with my fiancé to celebrate what could be a huge break for me.
“Sweetheart…” Behind me, Edward sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized Mom was behaving that way. I’ll handle her. I’m sorry. Perhaps…”