Once Upon a Second Chance

by Marian Vere

  “If you don’t want my attention, then you shouldn’t look so incredibly beautiful. It’s not fair to the other bride you know.”

  Blush.

  God damn it, he’s got to stop doing that!

  I do admit that I look great. After lunch, all the girls spent two and a half hours in Bree’s suite getting pampered, polished, and primped by a team of hair stylists and makeup artists. My hair had been smoothed, curled, and pinned in such a way that looked super glam, yet effortless, and my makeup artist had airbrushed my face to utter perfection. And to think, until today, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as airbrush makeup.

  “We agreed to keep apart,” I whisper, stifling a giggle as he bends forward and pretends to look further into the ballroom while actually brushing his nose across my cheek.

  “Did we?” he says, making no move to stop.

  “Yes. When are you going to tell Cathy?” I add, trying to distract him. We had agreed not to tell anyone, but Nick did say he would probably tell his sister before the night was out. She was family after all, and it’s not like she was going to tell anyone, so we figured it was safe.

  “Whenever I have a minute. Probably during dinner when everyone is distracted.” His nose tickles my ear.

  “You’re pushing your luck,” I tell him, grinning.

  “I love you,” he says, ignoring me yet again.

  “I love you, too, and now I’m leaving.” I turn and walk back toward the group, but not before glancing back in time to see him wink.

  I make my way over to a crowd of women and pretend to listen to the conversation, all the while thinking about Cathy. She has been on my mind for most of the day actually, and now my fears were about to come true. She is going to find out about the wedding, and about me. He will have to tell her that I am the one he almost married eight years ago, that I am the one she has hated all these years for his sake. Much as I don’t want her to know, I realize it has to be done. After all, there isn’t really any other way Nick can justify marrying someone overnight.

  What would she say?

  Could she forgive me?

  She made it abundantly clear that day on the beach that she had no warm feelings for me at all. Would that change now that Nick and I were married? Suddenly a painful knot forms in my stomach.

  “Okay, everyone,” the wedding coordinator says, appearing out of nowhere. “We are ready to start the introductions. Line up with your partners, please.”

  Derek appears by my side. “Mrs. Kerkley,” he says quietly, offering me his arm.

  I take it and give his shoulder a punch with my free hand. “Will you stop calling me that! Someone is going to hear you! God, you’re as bad as he is!”

  He chuckles as we step into line. “For what it’s worth, I am really happy for you two,” he says, under his breath, “and that is saying something, considering how bitter I have become over the past few hours.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because, pardon me, this is bullshit!” he says with something between a grin and a grimace. “I’ve become the only sorry-ass, single loser left standing, and all in less than eight hours. How the hell does that happen?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I smile and squeeze his arm. “I’m sure we can find someone for you.”

  “No thanks, someone has to make it to the end of this day with his manhood in check, and it looks like it’s gonna have to be me.”

  “How romantic.” I giggle as we step up to the door.

  “Yes, one of my many gifts.”

  “Miss Julia Basham, escorted by Mr. Derek Ross,” the DJ announces, and we step into the hall.

  We take our places at the head table as the new Mr. and Mrs. Christopher and Brianna Langston enter, looking as happy as two people can be. Brandon makes his toast, and before I realize I’ve eaten anything, my dinner plate is being cleared away. I’m trying to focus on the wedding and enjoy myself, but my eyes keep going back over to the round table just a few yards away, where Cathy and Rob are sitting.

  What if she hates me? What if she thinks I’m using him? What if this ruins her and Nick’s relationship? What if—

  “Here you are, Miss.” A waiter sets a coffee cup down in front of me, breaking my train of stomach ulcer-inducing thought.

  “Thank you.” I look back, expecting to see him there with an urn of coffee, but he has moved on and is serving Jen to my right. I lift the coffee cup to turn it right side up, and notice something underneath it.

  Oh, my God.

  My breath catches and I slam the cup back down, looking around and praying that no one else saw. I pick up the set and place them in my lap, glancing around once more to make sure no one else is looking before lifting the cup to reveal an unmistakable, scarlet-red Cartier ring box. There’s a small piece of paper on the saucer under the box, and I pull it out.

  You may get to propose,

  but I still get to buy you a ring.

  Love - N

  I place the note on the table, and stare down at the red cube with gold trim, willing my hands to stop shaking. I open the box to find the most beautiful wedding set I have ever seen. I’m willing to bet anything it’s platinum, and there are diamonds everywhere! The large square solitaire on the engagement ring was surrounded by smaller diamonds all around the edges, and pouring over onto the swirling filigree setting and band. The wedding band matched perfectly and was also inlaid with diamonds. It’s a ring straight from the pages of a bridal magazine, the sort of ring that you see and think “holy crap,” and you Google the jeweler just so you can see what a ring like that would cost—you’d never expect you’ll have one to wear on your hand for the rest of your life.

  I close the lid of the box, and put the coffee cup back over it. I look over to find Nick’s eyes on me from the other side of the table. He smiles warmly at my obvious surprise and gives me a quick—and somewhat triumphant—wink before standing and leaving the table.

  So you think you’re clever, do you?

  I reach down and grab my purse from under my seat, thanking my lucky stars I decided to make the stop that I did before lunch this morning. I open my bag and make room for my new red ring box by removing the blue one already in there.

  Lunch today was at Trump Grill on Fifth Avenue, which just happens to be right next to Tiffany and Co. When I arrived for lunch I realized I still had more than half an hour until noon, so I decided to make a quick stop to buy Nick a ring. We obviously didn’t have time before the ceremony this morning, and I wanted to get him a wedding present regardless. The fact that Tiffany’s was a few steps away seemed to be fate.

  The salesman I spoke to, Dave, was very helpful, even though I was a somewhat unconventional shopper. I told him I would need the ring today, so it had to be in stock, and that price was not an issue. He showed me my options, and I chose the double milgrain wedding band in platinum. I wasn’t sure what most of that meant, but I liked it, and I was sure Nick would too. I bought it in a size ten, knowing his class ring was a ten, and hoping that with any luck his size hasn’t changed since high school. Finally, after Dave assured me I would have it by one, I had it engraved. The only problem was that there was only room for three characters, which didn’t leave me with a lot of options. I played around with the initial idea, but figured that was redundant, as we know each other’s names. Besides, I wanted it to be more meaningful than that. I decided on F & F, which stood for Finally & Forever. Dave was confused, but once I explained, he thought it was great.

  The ring cost most of my savings, but considering I was now married to one of Forbes top ten richest men in the country, I figured cleaning out my bank account to buy him a wedding present wasn’t such a big deal. With my slip with a pickup time of one or later, I left to meet the girls, arriving just in time. When I ran back in after lunch, Dave not only had the ring done, but he had printed a small card to go with it that said:

  Finally & Forever

  F & F

  I take the ring box and card out of my
purse, look over to his spot at the table, and see that he has left his tux jacket on the back of his chair. I walk over and, discreetly as possible, slide the box and card into the front breast pocket. I hurry back to my seat and look around to see where he went and if he saw me.

  I find him—oh God—sitting with Cathy. They are leaning into one another in a private conversation, and he is holding her hands in his.

  He’s telling her.

  Suddenly my heart is in my throat and my hands are sweaty. I grab my purse and walk, as slowly as I’m able, out of the ballroom and into the nearest ladies room without so much as a glance back at Cathy’s table.

  The ladies room door closes behind me, and instantly I feel safer. I step into the vanity lounge which has beautiful puffy couches, a low center table with a large flower arrangement on it, and a long vanity counter on the far wall, complete with lit mirrors and several small embroidered benches.

  Definitely the Rolls Royce of public restrooms.

  I go and sit at the vanity, staring blankly into the mirror, Cathy’s words from the beach all those weeks ago thumping in my mind.

  “…nothing I’d like more than to give that girl a piece of my mind…”

  God, what must she think of me?

  A lump forms in my throat, and I am totally aware that I need a distraction, or I am going to completely ruin my makeup. I open my purse and pull out the ring box. I open it, take out the ring, and slowly slide it on my finger. It’s beautiful! Suddenly I’m blinking back tears for a whole new reason. Some distraction.

  I take a deep breath. Okay, what’s the worst that can happen? She can’t forgive me for what happened eight years ago, and she never wants to see or speak to me again. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure that I’d blame her. So what should I do? I could stay away from her if that’s what she wants. Though if that were the case, she would probably want me to stay away from Nick too, but it’s a bit late for that. Besides, after all this, I could never agree to that. I will stay away from her as much as I can, and be polite and courteous when I can’t, and maybe after a while she’ll come to see that Nick and I are in love. Love has to count for something, right?

  My mind is struck silent as the ladies’ room door opens. I look up into the mirror and see another woman’s reflection staring back at me.

  Oh no…

  Cathy.

  I flip around in my seat as she takes a few steps into the lounge area, never taking her eyes off of me. My throat closes as I see her face. Her lips are pressed into a hard line, her eyebrows are furrowed together, and every muscle in her face seems hard with strain. She’s pissed.

  Deep breath…

  I stand slowly and take a step out from around the bench. Our eyes are still locked but neither of us seems to be able to speak. Okay, you can do this. We can’t stand here all night, just say what you have to say, and don’t cry! I take a shaky breath and another step forward.

  “Look, Cathy, I just want you to know th—”

  Before I can even finish my sentence, Cathy comes hurling forward, throwing her arms around me in a hug that just about squeezes the remaining air out of my lungs.

  “Thank you,” she all but sobs on my shoulder. “Thank you!”

  I bring my arms up and return her hug in a daze. “What?” I breathe, fighting a losing battle with my own tears.

  “You don’t know what it means to me to see him so happy!”

  I lose it. “You mean…you…I just…I thought you would…!” I blubber, then finally give up, crying outright. “I thought you would hate me!” I sob, unable to stop myself.

  “What?”

  “All those years ago…what I did to him. I’m so sorry! I love him, I really do! I always have!”

  “Shh, honey, don’t,” she soothes.

  We stand there for several minutes, sniffing and hiccupping, trying to pull ourselves together. I feel her jump, and turn to see she has noticed the ring box on the counter behind me.

  “Oh,” she says, as she pulls my left hand out from behind her. “Oh my goodness! It’s beautiful!”

  “I know!” I squeak, which leads to several more minutes of hugging, giggling, sniffing, and hiccupping, until we have both made total messes of ourselves.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Cathy says, pulling away from me and fanning her face. “You have to get back out there. They are going to start the dances soon.”

  “Right.” I turn to the mirror to assess the damage. My face is red and my eyes are puffy, but my makeup is still good. God bless that airbrush! After I throw on some powder and lipstick, I feel more collected, and Cathy and I head back into the ballroom, hand in hand.

  We arrive just in time to hear the DJ announce the first dance. As Chris and Bree make their way to the dance floor, Cathy and I part ways. “Have fun, sweetie. We’ll talk later,” she says, hugging me once more, before turning toward her table. I get back to my seat, and see the rest of the bridal party is gathered over to the right of the head table, watching the first dance, and waiting to be called in. I drop my purse at my seat and join them, only to find that Nick is not there. I glance around and see him standing several yards behind us near the corner, facing the wall. He’s looking down at something in his hands. Something blue…

  He must have found it when he put his jacket back on for the dance. I hold my breath, wishing I could see his face. After a few moments, he puts the box and card back in his pocket, takes a deep breath, rubs both hands over his face, and pinches the bridge of his nose. The lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes make another appearance.

  He likes it!

  I turn quickly back toward the dance floor before he sees me, and try to blink away my tears—again. This is getting embarrassing! When did I turn into such a blubbering mess? A moment later, I feel a hand on the small of my back.

  “Can I have a quick word with you?” Nick asks me, loud enough for the people near us to hear, but not so loud so they’d take any particular interest.

  He turns, and I follow him back to where he was standing a moment ago, but further off to the side, where there is a short hall leading to a service door I hadn’t been able to see. No sooner do we turn into the hall, then he pulls me hard against his chest, kissing me breathless.

  “I love you! I love you, I love you,” he says in the few moments when his lips are free. I simply nod in response, as he gives me no chance to actually answer.

  We remain this way until loud applause signals the end of the first dance. We reluctantly separate, and walk back out to rejoin the rest of the party, who thankfully have been too distracted to notice we were missing.

  21

  I FLOAT THROUGH THE BRIDAL PARTY dance on a high from the interlude in the service hallway, but unfortunately come crashing down when I return to my seat at the table afterward to see the little flashing light on my phone. I have a missed call from Lisa. Taking the phone, I sneak out into the hall. I start out listening to the message with a smile, and by the end of it, I am crying like a baby—again.

  Lisa had called during a break in her meeting to tell me how happy she is for us. She went on and on about how proud she is, and that she loves me, and how she’s going to get me back for causing her to be so distracted in front of all the big-wigs in her meeting, and basically everything else that I’m sure she wanted to say this morning, but—being Lisa—she couldn’t bring herself to get the words out in person. Even in the message, the tone of her voice continues to get higher and higher, as if she was fighting tears—though she would never in a million years admit it. As the message ends, I lean back and wipe my eyes with a sigh. It seems impossible that things could have worked out this way, but I’m glad they have.

  Suddenly, I realize there is still one more person I have to tell about last night—one more person to thank: Mary, the sweet receptionist at the front desk from last night. After all, if it hadn’t been for her, I might have been scouring the city until dawn. I take the elevators down to the lobby, hoping she’s working. I r
eally want to thank her, plus she seemed interested and I’m sure she’d be happy to hear that everything worked out. As I approach the desk, I don’t see her, but there is another woman there who is not currently with a guest.

  “Hello,” I say, smiling as I approach her. “I’m looking for Mary.”

  “Certainly, what room is she in?”

  “Oh no, sorry, I mean the Mary that works here.”

  “Works at the Waldorf?” she asks, confused.

  “Yes, here at the desk.”

  “She’s not here…”

  “Oh, well if you could just give her a message for me—”

  “No,” she cuts me off, “you misunderstand me. We don’t have a Mary who works down here.”

  A few hours later, I’m swaying slowly on the dance floor with the man I love, feeling totally and blissfully at peace. This evening is something dreams are made of.

  I never discovered who Mary was. The woman at the front desk insisted no one by the name of Mary worked there, nor was there anyone who matched the description I gave. However, not wanting to imply that one of their guests was mistaken, the woman finally determined that someone must have borrowed a nametag from a “Mary” that works somewhere else in the hotel. It was easy to see that she only said that to appease me, but it didn’t matter. And the idea of persuading her that not only is she real, but she is also my fairy godmother isn’t even worth considering, so I let it go. It doesn’t matter what they think happened. I’ll always know the truth.

  After cake and pictures, Nick and I had sat down with Cathy and Rob. We agreed to have dinner with them the next day, so that we could discuss things more openly and without having to worry about being overheard.

  Finally, since it was getting on toward the end of the evening, Nick and I decided it would be safe to have a dance together on our wedding day. So here I am, dancing with my husband, trying not to look as wonderfully in love as I feel.