by Holly Rayner
On the way toward the establishment’s elaborate entryway, Bianca greeted Mary Wylde, along with the two other ladies at Mary’s side. Then, she hugged her own mother.
“Are you sure about this?” Helen whispered in Bianca’s ear as the two embraced.
“No,” Bianca whispered back. “But it’s a little late to back out, don’t you think?”
Helen squeezed her tightly. “I love you, honey,” she said. “If it feels wrong, don’t go through with it, okay? We’ll make it without the money.”
“But I signed a contract,” Bianca said.
“We’ll get a lawyer.”
Bianca pursed her lips. She backed away from her mother as Mary Wylde moved closer. She didn’t want to risk being overheard. “It’s a nice hotel, isn’t it?” she said in a bright, cheerful voice.
“Where’s Peaches?” Helen asked.
“They don’t allow pets,” Bianca said.
“Well then, it’s not that nice in my book,” Helen said.
Mary spoke up. “It’s one of the finest hotels in the city. I approve.” She strode ahead without waiting for a response.
The granite steps that led up to the hotel’s front doors were covered in a thin layer of partially melted snow. Bianca’s heels splashed through the slush as she climbed slowly, keeping pace with her mom.
Jackson, whose attention had been diverted by his best man, was still back on the sidewalk when Bianca entered the hotel lobby. She was immediately whisked off by a heavily made-up woman who was carrying a little silver box that looked like a miniature suitcase. Her perfume was so strong that Bianca almost gagged.
“I have everything set up in the bridal suite,” the perfumed woman said.
“Hm?” Bianca said.
“The bridal suite. I’m going to do your makeup—remember? Your hairdresser is there as well. We’re behind schedule so we’d better hurry.”
Bianca groaned. She’d completely forgotten that she and Jackson had booked two rooms in the hotel, one for the groomsmen and one for the bridal party.
That was back when we were getting along, and I was actually looking forward to all of this, she thought. She remembered how she’d fantasized about sipping a mimosa with Jackson’s sister, whom she didn’t even know at the time. It had all sounded so exciting.
I was such a fool, she thought. This isn’t exciting. This is wrong. We’re lying to so many people. And even worse than that—we’re lying to each other.
I have feelings for Jackson, and they’re not just going to go away as time goes on.
I have to tell him how I feel.
Inside the bridal suite, a table was filled to the brim with bouquets. Another table boasted of brunch foods, champagne, orange juice, and even bridal favor bags that Bianca could barely remember ordering.
For the next hour, Bianca suffered through an endless stream of preparations that she was in no mood to contend with. The makeup artist completely removed all of the blush, eyeliner, and mascara that Bianca had applied that morning, and then reapplied layers with an expert hand. A hairdresser twisted Bianca’s locks into a complex updo that made Bianca’s head hurt. Then, she was ushered out to a courtyard near the back of the hotel, where a photographer took what felt like a million snapshots. The first photos were of only Bianca. Then, one by one, other guests and wedding-party members were staged by her side. Bianca was instructed to turn to the left, lift her chin, smile. Then again, “cheer up a little bit, hon, it’s your wedding day!”
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. It felt so useless to pose for pictures when the images captured would be so meaningless down the road. Why would she or Jackson want to remember the day? It was all pretend. Not real. Not worth remembering.
“That’s enough,” she told the photographer. “I’m sure you got what you need.”
The photographer looked dismayed. “I’m sorry, but I usually have a checklist that I follow.” He pulled a notepad from the pocket of his blazer and glanced down at it. “I still need to get one of you and the groom, the immediate family, you and your bridesmaids, you with—”
“I’m not feeling well,” Bianca said. For once, she was telling the complete truth. She was cold, woozy with anxiety, and sick to her stomach about the state of things between herself and Jackson. She hugged her arms around her torso. “I’m so sorry—I just have to go, okay?”
She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she brushed past the photographer and hurried through a set of doors that led back into the hotel.
The hallway, long and wide, was covered in carpeting so plush that her heels sank in. She felt slightly lost as she moved past door after door, and finally reached a turning point. She turned right and spotted a hallway that she recognized. It led to the lobby. As she walked down it, she passed a tall mirror and she stopped in front of it.
For the first time since arriving at the hotel, she was alone. It was a relief to stop trying to paste a smile on her pink-painted lips. Her shoulders slumped. She allowed herself to feel the depth of her confusion. This is all so wrong, she thought, as she examined her reflection. How can I make it right?
A hotel worker stepped out of a room nearby, and Bianca felt uncomfortable just standing and looking into the mirror as she was. She continued down the hallway.
When she reached the lobby, she found it bustling with activity. Guests were arriving, one after another through the revolving glass doors. Outside, snow was falling.
Bianca could hear Mary Wylde’s voice, so shrill that it seemed to carry above the buzz of conversation. “What a mess the roads are. I knew right when I woke up that it would be like this. I had to call a taxi because I didn’t want to drive. And today, of all days—with so many people traveling into the city for the wedding.” She was speaking to Jackson’s personal assistant, who listened attentively.
Bianca couldn’t hear what the assistant said in response, but she did hear Mary go on. “I wonder if we should delay the ceremony to allow everyone a chance to get here. The interstate westbound is closed due to an accident, and…”
“Bianca?” a man’s voice said.
Bianca turned and saw the officiant that she and Jackson had hired. He approached, wearing a warm smile. “You look lovely. The ceremony will begin soon, and I wanted to go over one thing with you. It occurred to me this morning. Before we get to the part where you and Jackson exchange vows, I’d like to—”
“Excuse me,” Bianca said, before sucking in an inhale. She felt like she had to gasp for air. Her dress felt even tighter now than it had back in the limo. She held up a finger. “Excuse me—I just—” Her heart pounded in her chest.
I have to get out of here, she thought. The sensation was so strong, she almost picked up the hem of her dress and started running toward the hotel lobby exit.
Panic and the need to flee bolted through her core, making it impossible to stand still and listen to the officiant any longer.
She took a step backward. “I’m sorry. Yes. Whatever your idea is, yes… that sounds fine. It’s fine.” She turned on her heel—and almost ran smack into Jackson.
He reached out his hands to steady her. His grip felt warm and sturdy against her bare arms.
“Whoa,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“I have to get out of here,” Bianca said. “A bathroom, or some fresh air, or—” She tried to back up, away from him.
He released her but didn’t step out of her path. “The ceremony is due to start any minute now,” he said quietly, his concern evident.
“I think your mother wants to delay it,” Bianca murmured. “I’ll be back shortly…” Her voice died out. She found she was unable to make even one more excuse. It was all she’d done all day, and she was tired of it. “Jackson,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
His brow tented. “What are you saying?”
She looked up into his eyes. “We need to talk. Not here, okay?”
Again, she turned. In silence, she led the way back through
the hallway that she’d just walked down. By retracing her steps, she was able to find a private alcove near the courtyard where her photoshoot had taken place moments before.
She stepped into the alcove. Jackson joined her. It made her heart ache to breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne.
“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. She realized she was still holding a bouquet which had been foisted on her earlier. She placed it down on the single table that occupied the small alcove. Though her feet ached due to ill-fitting heels, she was too tense to sit. “All those people out there… I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“My mom’s buying it,” Jackson said. “And it will all be over in a few hours.”
His voice sounded distant and detached. Bianca missed the warm, intimate tone that he’d used with her, back before their night together.
“Don’t do this, please,” she said passionately. “I can’t stand this. Everything has changed between us. That night was a huge mistake.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into a pool.
Jackson opened his mouth, and Bianca knew he was going to respond. Would he try to soothe her? Try to convince her to go through with the ceremony? She didn’t want to find out, so she spoke.
The words tumbled out quickly. “I can’t help how I feel about you,” she said. “I thought that I could keep my emotions in check, but it turns out that I can’t, okay? I have feelings for you. Deep feelings.”
She couldn’t bear to use the word love. She rushed on. “You’re a catch, Jackson. You must know that. I wish I could be the woman for you, but apparently I’m not. I have to be okay with that. Someday, you’re going to fall in love with someone for real, and you’re going to open up to her. You’re going to trust her. But if we go through with this fake wedding, that could prevent both of us from finding real love one day. We both deserve better, Jackson.”
She shook her head. Her vision blurred as tears gathered in her eyes. “I thought that the payment was incentive enough to go through with this, but it’s not. Deceiving all those people out there is bad enough. Now I see that we’re not even being honest with ourselves.”
She lifted a finger and dragged the back of it along her lower lid. It didn’t matter now whether she ruined her makeup or not; she was certain she wasn’t going to go through with the wedding.
“If I’m honest with myself, I see that being with you under false pretenses is just going to crush me. I won’t be able to handle it. I want to be in love, Jackson. I want a real marriage. A real family. I can’t go through with this charade any longer.”
“Bianca, I—” Jackson began.
He was cut off by the sound of a female voice that made a lightning bolt of shock travel through Bianca’s core.
“Wow.” Danielle’s clear, frosty tone rang throughout the cozy alcove. “You two are unbelievable.”
Chapter 18
Bianca
Bianca whirled around, her eyes wide.
Danielle stood in the hallway, her cell phone in one hand. She smelled like cigarette smoke. One hand was propped on her hip, which was jutted out to the side. With the cell-carrying hand, she gestured at Bianca, and then at Jackson. “You… and you! So selfish! Are you serious?”
“Danielle, calm down,” Jackson said.
She ignored him. “Did you seriously have the nerve to invite all of these people here to Memphis, to this hotel, on Christmas Day, for a fake wedding?” She shook her head.
“Unbelievable. Really. I can’t even comprehend—the nerve of you! I left LA for this! I took a red-eye flight! You’re not getting away with this.” She turned and began storming down the hallway, toward the lobby.
Jackson cursed under his breath. Then he hurried down the hallway and called out after his sister. “Danielle, wait!”
Bianca followed the two of them and caught up as they turned a corner and entered the final stretch of hallway.
Danielle’s voice sounded loud as it echoed off of the walls.
“You lied to us, Jackson,” she said. “I’m not going to stand for that. I’m going to tell everyone what you’re up to. The nerve… I seriously can’t—”
“Danielle, let us explain,” Jackson said. “Don’t go flying off the handle. You—”
“Oh, I’ll do whatever I please, Jackson! I’ve had it with you. Don’t tell me—”
Jackson cut in again. “Hear us out. We’re—”
“Don’t even!” Danielle burst out. She sped up, her heels clicking as she crossed the lobby.
Jackson rushed after her, and Bianca followed.
Danielle was making a beeline for the double doors that led to the ballroom. Since the lobby was now empty, Bianca realized that everyone must have already been called to take seats in the space that had been prepared for the ceremony.
Danielle reached for one of the double doors, but before she made contact with the brass handle, both sides of the door burst open.
Jackson’s personal assistant stepped out into the lobby. A look of pure horror contorted her usually pretty features. “Help!” she shouted out. “Help! We need a doctor in here!”
There was a commotion at the front desk as several of the hotel’s concierges sprang into action. One picked up a phone and punched numbers on a keypad, while another hurried out from behind the desk. At the same time, another guest emerged from the ballroom. This time, it was a nurse that Bianca had seen earlier, assisting her mother.
For a moment, ice-cold fear gripped Bianca’s heart. Had something happened to her mother?
The nurse shouted out. “She’s having chest pain! Is there an AED out here? Someone get the AED!”
Bianca ran forward. She could think of nothing else but her mother’s well-being.
When she crossed the threshold to the ballroom, she saw a crowd of guests standing between a scattered array of folding chairs. A few of the chairs were toppled over to their side. Several guests were crouched down.
Bianca ran toward the knot of people.
“Bianca!”
She heard someone call her name. The voice was familiar—she’d heard it since her birth.
She turned to her right and saw her mom, sitting in a chair with both arms draped over her walker. Her left hand, which had never worked properly since the stroke, was bent in a strange position, resting on the metal curve of one of the walker’s grips.
“Bianca, she collapsed,” Helen said, her voice quavering with fear. “Is there an ambulance on the way? She needs help.”
Bianca rushed over toward her mother. She felt so relieved to see her sitting there, in the same condition she’d been in at the start of the day.
“Mom, you’re okay,” she said breathlessly when she reached her mother’s side.
“Yes, of course,” Helen said.
“I thought—when the nurse said that someone collapsed—I thought it might be you.”
Bianca worked on catching her breath as she looked back toward the knot of people. “I saw one of the concierges calling for help. An ambulance should be here any minute.”
She watched as Jackson reached the steadily growing gathering that had formed around the collapsed person—whoever it was.
When people spotted Jackson, they made way for him. An aisle cleared, and Jackson stepped forward.
In a brief moment, between the time when the little crowd parted and when Jackson stepped forward, Bianca caught sight of a figure lying sprawled on the floor.
The figure wore a royal-purple skirt and matching blazer. At the sight of the fabric and the crumpled form of the figure, Bianca knew—the person who had collapsed was Mary Wylde.
Jackson knelt over his mother. Danielle hovered just behind him. Bianca could see that they were taking turns speaking.
“Are you okay here?” Bianca asked her mom.
“Yes.” Helen reached out her right hand and squeezed Bianca’s arm. “Go see if you can help her. You have medical experience. The poor woman was j
ust about to sit down… I watched the whole thing. She’d just reached her seat. She clutched her chest and fell to her knees. Then, she was lying down flat out on the ground.”
Bianca pulled away from her mother and hurried over toward the crowd. A concierge had located an AED, and he was pulling out pads and wires as if to have it ready should it be needed.
At the same time, Jackson held his mom’s hand. Mary looked frightened; the whites of her eyes were visible around her pupils.
“It’s okay,” Jackson said to her. “An ambulance is on the way.”
“Let’s all back up and give them space,” Danielle said to the crowd.
Bianca heard the sound of approaching sirens. As the crowd around her stepped back, she stepped forward. “What can I do?” she asked, crouching down next to Jackson. He was carefully pulling up one sleeve of the blazer that Mary wore, exposing her bony wrist.
“Her pulse feels irregular to me,” Jackson said.
Bianca steadied her breathing and reached for Mary’s wrist. A moment later she nodded to Jackson. “You’re right,” she said.
“Mom, it’s going to be okay,” Jackson said.
“I must have forgotten,” Mary said, her eyes still wide. “To take—to take my medicine. This morning. I forgot! There was so much going on. The weather, the wedding. I forgot…”
Bianca was extremely relieved to see medics running across the room, carrying equipment with them.
“She’s having chest pain, and her pulse is irregular,” she told the first medic who reached them. He was a young man with a shaved head. “She has a history of heart problems.”
“High blood pressure,” Jackson chimed in, “among other things.”
“I forgot to take my darn pills,” Mary added, from her position on the floor. Then her face became pale, and she moaned again.
“Let’s load her up and analyze the rhythm on the way to Saint Joe’s,” the medic with the shaved head said. “Does anyone here have a list of medications that she usually takes?”