I Heart Forever

by Lindsey Kelk

  And then there was the dress.

  Yards and yards and yards of ivory tulle flowed from her waist, falling in dozens of different layers that floated with her as she moved while the bodice sparkled subtly with the same crystals she wore in her hair. High neck, long sleeves and then dipping low in the back, almost all the way down to her waist. It was so obviously a Bertie Bennett design, and so perfectly Jenny at the same time. A timeless, vintage shape, made with modern touches and just the right amount of sparkle. It was almost impossible to imagine it hadn’t been designed especially for her.

  ‘You look awful,’ Erin said, throwing back an entire flute of champagne. ‘We should cancel the wedding.’

  ‘Just the worst,’ I agreed as tears began to pour down my face. ‘I’ve never seen anyone look so bad. I’m embarrassed for you.’

  ‘It is a real piece of shit,’ she said, staring at herself in the mirror. ‘And the best part is, when they actually make this dress, it won’t have all the beading and shit. This is, literally, the only dress in existence that is exactly like it. I’m getting married in a Bertie Bennett original, bitches.’

  ‘And she’s such a lady,’ Erin said, holding a hand against her heart and a tissue to her nose. ‘What a beautiful moment.’

  ‘Do not fucking cry,’ Razor instructed from the bathroom. ‘I am not reapplying anyone’s false eyelashes, I already put away the glue.’

  ‘We won’t cry,’ Erin and I chorused together, sobbing into tissues not ten feet away.

  ‘You two look OK,’ Jenny said, cocking her head to the side to consider our matching Jenny Packham dresses.

  I should have known, when Erin gave me my frock, that Jenny’s dress was going to be such a stunner. What kind of woman put her bridesmaids in impossibly beautiful dresses like ours unless she was so very certain about her own? I swished my hips around in a shimmy, thankful the bump had played nicely and just about managed to squeeze in without my having to torture it with Spanx.

  ‘I suppose you’re going to have to get married now,’ Erin said, handing her a glass of champagne. It was almost three forty-five, the wedding was scheduled to take place at four, just in time for sunset. ‘Poor Mason.’

  ‘Any word from Alex?’ Jenny asked. I could tell she was trying not to sound concerned, but I knew that she was. So was Erin. So was I. My dad, on the other hand, was on the warpath. Part of me hoped that Alex stayed well away, he was not safe anywhere in New York City.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said. It was the opposite of fine. I’d been up all night and panicking all day. He’d said he’d be home and he wasn’t. ‘I’m sure he’ll be here.’

  ‘Could you wish for me to win the lottery real quick?’ Jenny said, nodding towards the door of our hotel room. Peering inside, opening it only as much as he had to, was Alex Reid.

  ‘Hi?’

  ‘Erin, Razor, I need you in the other room,’ Jenny ordered, picking up her skirts and swishing all the way into the bathroom. ‘Now, please.’

  ‘But the other room is the bathroom,’ Razor whined. ‘We won’t all fit in there with you in that dress.’

  ‘We’ll fit in there if you stand on the toilet,’ Jenny barked. ‘Go!’

  ‘Can I come in?’ Alex asked, silhouetted in the doorway with head hanging low.

  ‘Depends,’ I said, reaching for fresh tissues. ‘Are you planning on staying?’

  He came into the hotel room and I saw that he was wearing his suit, albeit with his battered old Converse.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said without making any attempt to come closer. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘We don’t have time for a long story,’ I said, looking down at my bridesmaid’s dress. ‘But I’d love to hear the short version.’

  ‘I sold my vintage Strat.’ He held out his arms and let them clap loudly against his sides. ‘I sold my vintage Strat and I had to drive upstate to deliver it.’

  ‘Alex, you didn’t,’ I breathed. ‘You love that guitar.’

  ‘And I love our baby more,’ he replied, rubbing the heel of his hand against a tired eye. ‘I got fifty grand for the guitar. Now we don’t have to sell “Night Song” to the fast-food place.’

  ‘Fifty thousand dollars for a guitar?’ Razor gasped on the other side of the bathroom door.

  ‘You didn’t have to do that anyway,’ I said, ignoring Razor’s squeal and silently thanking whoever had made him be quiet. ‘We would have made it work, you shouldn’t have to give up something you love.’

  ‘I sold it to a friend upstate, he says I can still borrow it to record if I want to. It’s cool.’

  He very much wanted me to think this wasn’t a big deal but I knew it was and I hated it.

  ‘I thought I could drive up there and back down in a day, turns out I was wrong.’

  I felt terrible about him selling his guitar, but he was going to have to do better than that, if only to stop Jenny from breaking the door down and killing him dead.

  ‘Really? That’s it?’ I asked, concentrating on breathing. ‘You couldn’t have called and told me that?’

  ‘I could but I didn’t,’ he replied. His eyes found the floor and his long black hair covered his face. ‘I don’t know why. After I dropped off the guitar, I started thinking and driving and suddenly it was the middle of the night. My phone died, I lost track of time. I stopped to buy a charger at a gas station and I was gonna call, but then I got that message from Jenny and shit, Angela, I was scared. Mason is a brave man.’

  ‘Lucky man,’ I corrected as the threat of violence rumbled behind the bathroom door. ‘Mason is a lucky man.’

  He looked up at me from his safe space across the room and even though I was angry and sad and confused, my heart shattered. He looked so afraid.

  ‘Please come here,’ I said, holding my voice together for as long as I could. Faster than I could blink, he was right in front of me, holding my face in his hands. Neither of us said anything at first. I took his hand in mine and led him over to the loveseat in front of the window. He sat first, pulling me into his lap and I laid my head against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. He stroked my hair and held me close, as though he would never let me go.

  ‘I’m so sorry …’ Alex’s long, calloused fingers combed through my gently curled hair. ‘I know I fucked up, I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to let anyone down. You, the band, or the baby, and somehow that’s exactly what I did.’

  It was perfectly sound baby-brain logic. Apparently, you didn’t need to be physically carrying the baby for it to affect you.

  ‘You didn’t,’ I told him. ‘I promise, you haven’t let anyone down.’

  ‘It’s so dumb,’ Alex said, moving his hand to massage the nape of my neck and I leaned my head back, pushing harder against his fingers ‘Clearly, I was not of sound mind. Also, I didn’t really eat anything other than a ton of Sour Skittles and a Seven-Eleven hot dog all day – they should do a study into what that does to a person’s brain.’

  ‘They could just check mine,’ I suggested helpfully. ‘Although maybe they shouldn’t.’

  He kissed the top of my head and nodded in agreement.

  ‘I swear I’ll never do it again,’ he said. ‘I’m so fucking sorry, it was such a weird, cowardly thing to do. My brain got stuck thinking about all the times I’ve been away touring and all the time you spend away at work. We barely have enough hours in the day for each other – what if a kid is too much? I don’t want to screw this up, I really don’t.’

  ‘There’s a difference between being physically in the room with a person and being there for somebody,’ I said, shuffling upright so I could look him in the eye. ‘Trust me, I’ve done that before. I spent years under the same roof as someone but we were never really in the same place. We are not those people.’

  Alex took in a deep breath and blew it out hard, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyebrows.

  ‘I’m just going to say it,’ he said, releasing his hands, the skin around hi
s eyebrows rushing red. ‘I’m scared.’

  He laughed at the words as they came out of his mouth and I offered up a lopsided smile.

  ‘God, it actually feels good to say it. I’m chicken-shit scared. Of losing you, of you hating me. I’m so scared I’m gonna mess up, Angela. Like, what if the band is really successful but it means missing out on my child growing up? Or if I pass up band opportunities and end up resenting my kid? I don’t want to wake up one day, ten years from now, and realize I screwed everything up.’

  ‘I’m going to suggest something incredibly controversial,’ I said, placing Alex’s hand on my mini bump. ‘Rather than panicking and driving around the countryside and eating sour sweets and manky hot dogs, how about we actually talk to each other about stuff like this?’

  He looked at me in surprise. ‘That is a wild idea.’

  ‘I know,’ I nodded. ‘Having another brain inside me has made me a super genius.’

  ‘Huh,’ Alex gave a low whistle. ‘No wonder they want to put you in charge of the world at work.’

  ‘You read my email?’ I asked. He nodded and leaned in to kiss me gently.

  ‘Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it,’ he said. ‘But I know you would hate that job, Angela, it would make you miserable. There has to be another option.’

  ‘There might be,’ I said, tightening up his skinny black tie. ‘We’ll talk about it after. I do still have two questions, though.’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘How come it took you a whole day to get home and,’ I looked down at his Converse, ‘how come you’re in your suit but you don’t have your shoes?’

  ‘You said we didn’t have time for a long story,’ he replied. ‘But I’ll tell you later because it’s a really good one. There’s a broken down rental car, a very angry gas station attendant, three pairs of socks and a raccoon.’

  ‘I wanna know what happened with the raccoon,’ Jenny wailed, bursting out of the bathroom in a cloud of ivory tulle. ‘Don’t make me kick your ass, Reid.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Alex’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the world’s angriest bride. ‘Lopez, you look incredible.’

  ‘More than I can say for you,’ she said, fluffing out the layers of her skirts. ‘Now, for real, there was a raccoon?’

  ‘It is actually almost four,’ I said, reluctantly drawing her attention to the clock on the wall. ‘Everyone will be waiting, we should get up there.’

  ‘I’ll tell you on the way upstairs,’ Alex said, holding out his arm. ‘It’s more of an elevator story anyway.’

  ‘Oh, my god,’ Jenny whispered, holding a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m getting married.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘That’s a thing that’s happening.’

  ‘And you’re having a baby,’ she whispered, pointing at my belly.

  ‘And I’m halfway to being wasted,’ Erin said, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her towards the door. ‘So, can we get this show on the road before I lose my buzz?’

  ‘It’s a solid plan,’ Alex agreed. ‘Lopez, are you gonna do this or not?’

  ‘I guess,’ she replied, turning to me with tears in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe it’s happening.’

  ‘I can,’ I said, folding her into a very careful hug. ‘You’re incredible, Mason is the luckiest man alive. Are you ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, taking a deep breath.

  I followed Jenny out of the suite, my hand in hers, with Alex close behind while the bump bubbled happily in my belly. Everything I wanted, everything I needed, was right there with me at last.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘You’re not serious?’

  Delia and Joe stared at me from the other side of the boardroom table.

  ‘Pretty serious,’ I said. ‘It would be a really rubbish joke if I wasn’t.’

  ‘You’re not taking the job?’ Delia asked. She looked upwards as she spoke, as though she was trying to translate the words from another language. ‘You’re going to leave?’

  ‘That is the gist of it,’ I confirmed. ‘Yes. I don’t want to be Junior Global Brand Director for Women’s Lifestyle Brands.’

  It had taken me all weekend to learn how to say that without looking at it written down.

  ‘You haven’t thought this through,’ Joe said, shaking his blond head. ‘Weren’t you at a wedding this weekend? Take a couple more days, there’s no rush.’

  ‘There is, actually,’ I replied. ‘I’ve still got all my holidays to take this year, and if I hand my notice in today, I can leave at the end of the day and that ties up nicely with the Christmas break, so yeah, it’s all very neat and tidy.’

  ‘You’re going to walk out on your magazine?’ Joe did not look impressed. ‘I thought you loved that magazine.’

  ‘I do,’ I said, wanting this part of the day to be over. ‘But the team will manage without me for a couple of weeks. They’re really good – you should keep that in mind before you go and fire half of them.’

  ‘Is this because you’re pregnant?’ Delia asked, lowering her gaze to my carefully disguised stomach.

  ‘You know?’ I asked, protectively covering my belly.

  ‘Everyone knows,’ she replied, looking slightly hurt. ‘I figured it out when I ran into you at the doctor’s office, and everyone knows you’ve been throwing up and skipping out on drinks. Plus, you have a huge bump, it wasn’t hard to guess. I thought maybe you would tell me at the wedding, but you were too busy avoiding me all night.’

  It was fair, I had been avoiding her, but I’d also been trying to keep my dad off the Sambuca shots and Mum away from Sadie’s surgically reconstructed nose, so I’d had my hands full for most of the night.

  ‘She’s pregnant?’ Joe yelped. ‘Now?’

  Well, at least I’d managed to keep it a surprise from someone.

  ‘Weren’t you the one who told me she was sick in your trash can?’ Delia asked.

  ‘Yes, but I assumed that was from the excitement,’ he said, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘And she said something about lactose intolerance. How was I supposed to know she was pregnant?’

  ‘You picked a real winner to be running women’s brands,’ I told Delia. ‘Good work.’

  ‘You don’t have to leave,’ she said, moving right past my snarky comment. ‘If you don’t want to take the director role, we’ll figure something else out.’

  It was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes, I shook my head.

  ‘It’s time for a change,’ I told her. ‘Spencer Media has been the most amazing place for me, and now it’s going to be an amazing place for someone else. It’s not that I don’t want to be here any more, it’s just that there’s something else I want more.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Joe asked, his gaze turning steely next to Delia’s arch disappointment.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ I said, standing up to leave. ‘But I’ll figure it out.’

  ‘Happy Christmas Eve,’ Alex said. ‘How did it go?’

  He was waiting for me outside the office, all bundled up in his Brooklyn Industries padded coat, skinny black jeans, and a red and white Santa hat on his head. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying as he stooped down to kiss me.

  ‘Joe was confused, Delia was pretty upset, and everyone else cried,’ I said, tucking my Alexander Skarsgård poster into my tote bag. ‘Me included. Actually, mostly me. Alex, it was so weird. I can’t believe I quit Gloss.’

  ‘I’m proud of you,’ he said, taking a second Santa hat out of his pocket and resting it on top of my head. ‘Want to go for a walk?’

  ‘Why not?’ I said, following him up Broadway. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do, have I?’

  Times Square was manic. There were always at least three times as many people as could comfortably fit inside one city block, especially when that city block also had moving traffic flowing through but Christmas was the exception. New York emptied out for the holidays: it was like Jenny always said, not
many people were from New York, they came here to become someone new. At Christmas, they all went back to wherever they came from, either to play at being their old selves for a few days or to show everyone at home how much they’d changed, because that was a certainty. Everyone who came to New York changed, one way or another.

  For the first time in months, there was room to breathe in the streets. I held Alex’s hand but walked in my own space, not huddled into him, trying not to be knocked over or pushed out of someone’s way. The city was mine again, if only for a couple of days.

  ‘Have you talked to Cici?’ Alex asked, flipping the white fluffy pompom on the end of his hat over to a more rakish angle.

  ‘I have.’ I tightened my glittery Marc Jacobs scarf around my neck. It was getting really cold. ‘We’re going to meet in January. She can’t really try to hire anyone away until Joe and Caroline have done their cull, but there are definitely a few people who are way too talented to be unemployed who are going to be looking for jobs. I would imagine the promise of a bigger pay cheque and health insurance will help them overlook the fact they’d be working for Cici Spencer.’

  ‘Technically,’ he corrected me as we crossed 59th Street into Central Park, ‘they’ll be working for you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I reminded him, walking towards the ice rink. I could barely stay upright in regular shoes when I was on solid ground, but I still loved to watch other people skate. Everyone was happy when they were skating. ‘I still haven’t accepted her offer.’

  ‘And there’s no rush,’ he insisted, pausing at the top of one of the little stone bridges, looking down on the frozen pond. ‘I know you made the right choice.’