The Wedding

by Danielle Steel

  “How could I have done all that?” she asked, aghast, still surprisingly naive, and always shocked to realize to what extent people were willing to lie about her. Like all celebrities, people claimed they'd gone to school with her, were best friends with her, had taken trips with her, and of course the number of men claiming to have slept with her were legion. Recently, even two women had made that claim, and Carmen had been reduced to tears over that too. It just seemed incredibly unfair to her that people were so willing to make up stories about her.

  “It's the price of success,” Allegra always reminded her gently, finding it difficult to believe that she was only six years older than Carmen. The young star seemed so naive in so many ways, so unaware of the evil lurking everywhere, and surprised by the extent of the exploitation. She still wanted to believe that everyone was her friend, and no one wanted to hurt her. Except at two A.M., when she easily believed that half of Los Angeles was at her back door and about to break in and rape her. Allegra had hired a live-in housekeeper for her finally, and told Carmen to leave a light on outside her bedroom. She was afraid of the dark, and she was always scared to death of what she couldn't see just beyond her bedroom.

  “Listen.” Allegra reassured her again about the article in Chatter. “You're not old enough to have had all that work done.”

  “Do you suppose anyone else will figure that out? All I did was have a mole removed on my forehead,” she said miserably, blowing her nose again, thinking of all the things her grandmother had said when she called from Portland. She said that Carmen had shamed them all, and that God would never forgive her.

  “Of course they'll figure it out. Did you read the next page?”

  “No, why?” Carmen asked, stretching her perfect figure out on the couch, as she held the phone and talked to Allegra.

  “On the next page it probably says that a woman gave birth to identical quintuplets on Mars. And two pages after that a woman gave birth to a monkey on a UFO. If they believe that crap, then who cares if they say you had a face-lift at twenty-three? To hell with them, Carmen. You've got to toughen up a little bit, or they'll drive you crazy.”

  “They are,” she said forlornly. They talked for an hour, and finally Allegra hung up and went to take a shower, and by the time she got out and was drying her hair, Brandon pulled into the driveway.

  She was at the door in a terry-cloth robe as he came up the walk, her hair was hanging down her back, wet, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. In some ways she was even more beautiful than when she was all done up, and he liked it when she looked natural and clean and sexy.

  “Wow!” he said, and then kissed her hello, as he followed her inside and she locked the door behind them. It was ten o'clock at night, and he looked exhausted as he dropped his briefcase in the front hall and put his arms around her. “This was definitely worth working late for,” he said, kissing her, and slipping a hand inside the terry-cloth robe. She was naked beneath it.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked him between kisses.

  “Starved,” he answered, referring to her, not dinner.

  “What would you like?” she asked, laughing at him, as she entwined her legs around his playfully, and took off his jacket.

  “Breast, I think … or maybe leg….” he said hoarsely, and then kissed her again, and a minute later they were sitting on her bed, as he unbuttoned his shirt and looked at her with eyes filled with desire. He looked tired, after his long day, but his spirits didn't seem to be dampened. He didn't even want to talk to her, he just wanted to devour her body.

  She helped him take off his shirt, and he slipped out of his pants, and a few minutes later they were both naked, lying on her bed, and making love in the soft lights she had left on. He was totally enraptured with her, and an hour later they both lay spent and pleased, and as she started to drift off to sleep, she felt him get up, and it woke her.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, rolling over and opening an eye to look at him in all his long, tall, blond splendor. They were well matched, and their looks were so similar that sometimes people thought they were brother and sister.

  “It's late,” he said apologetically, slowly gathering up his clothes from the floor of her bedroom.

  “Are you going home?” She looked surprised, as she sat up and stared at him. He seemed embarrassed when she asked him the question. They hadn't even talked to each other. All they'd done was make love, and fall asleep. And she didn't want him to leave her.

  “I thought … I have to go in really early tomorrow, and I didn't want to wake you.” He looked awkward, but anxious to leave. He did that often.

  “What difference does it make if you have to get up early? So do I.” She seemed hurt by his defection. “You have clean shirts here. I have to be up early too. It's nice when we sleep together.” It was nice, and she knew he liked it, but she knew that he also liked going home to his own apartment. He liked his own space, his own things; he had told her several times over the past two years that he liked waking up in his own bed, and yet they seldom made love at his place. He always seemed to come here, to her house, but at least half the time he liked going back to his own apartment. In an odd way, it sometimes made her feel used, and discarded, and it was a particularly lonely feeling after he was gone and she was alone in her own house. For some odd reason, she had told her therapist, it made her feel abandoned. But she didn't like being put in the position of begging him, and she didn't want to push him now if he didn't want to stay. She was just very disappointed. “I'd like it if you stayed, Brandon,” she said quietly, but she didn't say anything more as he finally went to shower, and then came back to bed. To Brandon it seemed easier to stay the night than argue.

  And as they lay together that night, Allegra smiled at him. There may have been some things to work out in their relationship, like his divorce and his preference for sleeping alone, but there was no doubt in her mind that she loved him.

  “Thanks for staying here,” she said softly, as she lay in his arms, and he gently touched her cheek, and then kissed her. And a moment later, he was snoring.

  CHAPTER 2

  Allegra got up the next morning before the alarm went off at six-fifteen. That was the time Brandon had set it for. He got up and went to brush his teeth and shave, while she walked out to the kitchen naked, to make coffee.

  He was at the breakfast table, fully dressed, by six forty-five, and she put two blueberry muffins in front of him, and a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Great service at this restaurant,” he said, looking pleased. “And I love what the servers wear,” he said, admiring her body as she sat down across the table from him, still naked.

  “You look pretty good too,” she said, admiring his dark gray suit. He bought everything he wore at Brooks Brothers, and every now and then she tried wandering him through Armani on Rodeo Drive, hoping to jazz him up a little. But that wasn't Brandon's look at all. He was pure Wall Street. “I'd say you look pretty damn great for this hour of the morning.” She grinned through a yawn, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She didn't have to be at her office till nine-thirty. “What are we doing tonight, by the way?” she asked. She'd been invited to a premiere, and she wasn't sure if he could go, with his trial to prepare. She doubted it, and she didn't really want to go either.

  “I've got to work. No more playtime. I told the other guys I'd stick around tonight till midnight,” he said, looking mildly panicked at all the work they had to do. Preparing for trial was always like that, which was why she was glad her firm had a litigation team, and she never had to do the actual trial work. She just had to collaborate with them, and give them information. In many ways, what she did was simpler. It was creative in its own way, but it didn't make the brutal demands on her that federal defense work did on Brandon.

  “Do you want to come here when you're through?” she asked, trying not to sound like a supplicant. She liked having him come home to her, and he didn't always want to. And she didn't want him
to feel pressured.

  “I'd love to,” he said regretfully. “But I really can't. I'll be bushed when I'm through. I've got to go home sometime.”

  “My parents invited us to dinner on Friday,” she said, extending the invitation to him. She knew that, in the end, her mother would have invited him anyway, just to please her daughter, whether or not they liked him.

  “I'm going to see the girls on Friday night,” he said matter-of-factly, finishing one of the muffins. “I told you.”

  “I didn't think you were serious,” she said, looking surprised. “What about the Golden Globes?” Her eyes were filled with her expectations. “They're important.” They were important to her, but not to Brandon.

  “So are Stephanie and Nicky. I have to see them before the trial,” he said firmly.

  “Brandon, I told you about the Golden Globes months ago. That's a big deal to me, and to my parents. And Carmen is nominated too. I can't just forget all that and go to San Francisco,” she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt. It was only seven o'clock in the morning.

  “I understand that you can't go. I don't expect you to,” he said perfectly calmly.

  “But I expect you to go with me,” she said, an edge developing in her voice, despite her best efforts. “I want you to be there.”

  “That's not a reasonable expectation, Allegra. I told you, I can't. I told you why. I don't see any point in belaboring it. Why do that?”

  “Because it means a lot to me.” She took a breath, trying not to get angry at him. There had to be a way to solve the problem to everyone's satisfaction. “Look, why don't you stay and go to the awards with me, and we'll fly to San Francisco for the day on Sunday? How's that for a compromise?” She looked totally victorious, thrilled that there had been a rational solution, but he was shaking his head and taking a last sip of coffee before he bolted.

  “That won't work, Allie, sorry. I need more than a day with them. I can't do that.”

  “Why?” She knew she was starting to whine, and she reminded herself to stop it.

  “Because they need more time, and frankly because I need some time to talk to Joanie about the condo at Squaw. She thinks she wants to sell it.”

  “That's ridiculous,” Allegra said, losing it finally. “You can do that on the phone. For chrissake, Brandon, you've done nothing but talk to her about the condo or the house or the carpet or the car or the dog for the last two goddamn years. This award ceremony is important to us.” She was including her family, and he was noticeably unmoved. To him, this was about his family, which consisted of his ex-wife and two daughters. “I'm not giving you up to Joanie,” she said bluntly.

  “You're not.” He smiled as he stood up, unwilling to be swayed by her, and perfectly willing to show it. “But how about to Stephanie and Nicky?”

  “They'd understand if you explained it to them.”

  “I doubt it. And anyway, that's not an option.” He stood looking at her, and she stared at him, unable to believe that he was going to let her down and go to San Francisco.

  “When are you coming back?” she asked, aching inside, and wishing she weren't. She was feeling abandoned again, and something in her gut was terrified, and she knew she shouldn't give in to it. He was going to San Francisco to see his kids, and if he was disappointing her it wasn't intentional. It just happened. And yet, why did she feel so terrible about his decision?

  She couldn't quite seem to grasp the answer, or even decide if she should be really furious, or just sad that he wasn't going to the Golden Globes with her. Was it really such a big deal? Did she have a right to make those demands on him? And why, when it came to her needs, were his reactions always so confusing? Was it, as Dr. Green said, because she didn't want to admit to herself what he was doing? Was he rejecting her, or just doing what he had to? And why could she never bring herself to answer those questions?

  “I'm coming back when I always do, on the last plane on Sunday night. I'll be back at ten-fifteen. I could be here by eleven,” he said to pacify her, and then she realized with an ache in her heart that she wouldn't be there.

  “I just remembered, I'm leaving for New York Sunday afternoon. I'll be there all next week, till Friday.”

  “Then you couldn't have come to San Francisco anyway,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I could leave from there, if you want. If we fly up on Sunday.”

  “That's ridiculous,” he said, dismissing her plan as he picked up his briefcase. “You have your work to do, Allie, I have mine, and sometimes we just have to be grown-ups about it.” He smiled at her almost wistfully as they each realized they wouldn't see one another again for ten days, until the following weekend.

  “Do you want to come by tonight and stay here, since I won't see you for such a long time?” She really wanted him to do that, but as usual, he stuck to his original plan. It was rare for Brandon to make changes.

  “I really can't. By the time we're through, I'll be too beat to see straight. I wouldn't be much fun for you, and there's no point in just coming here to sack out, is there?” But that was where they differed.

  “Sure there is. You don't have to entertain me,” she said as she stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  “I'll see you next week, kiddo,” he said coolly, after he kissed her. “I'll call you tonight, and tomorrow I'll give you a call before I leave for San Francisco.”

  “Do you want to have dinner at Mom's on Friday before you go?” she asked, hating herself for begging. It was exactly what she knew she shouldn't do, except she just couldn't stop herself. She wanted to be with him.

  “I'd probably miss my plane like I did last time, and then the kids would be upset.”

  “The kids?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, and silently telling herself to stop before she blew it. “Or Joanie?”

  “Come on, Allie, be a good girl. You know I can't help it. I've got a trial, you've got a trip to New York, I've got two kids in San Francisco. We've both got our obligations. Why don't we just do what we have to do, and then get together afterward and enjoy it?” He made it all sound so sensible, and yet some part of her didn't buy it—the part that was always disappointed when he didn't show up, like for the awards, or when he went home after they made love, to sleep alone at his place. At least he had spent the night with her the night before, and she reminded herself that she should be grateful for that, and stop nagging him about the weekend.

  “I love you,” she said, as he kissed her in the doorway, and she stood back a little bit so no one could see her naked.

  “Me too,” he smiled at her. “Have fun in New York. And don't forget to take your long Johns. It said in the Times today it's snowing.”

  “Great.” She looked forlorn as she watched him go, then waved as he got into his car. She closed the front door, and then watched him from her bedroom window as he backed down her driveway. She felt sick as she watched him drive away. Something felt wrong and she wasn't sure what it was, the fact that he wouldn't change his plans, or was going to see Joanie again, with the girls, or just the simple reality that she had to go to the Golden Globes alone now, and explain it to her parents. Or maybe just knowing that she wouldn't see him again for ten days. All of it made her feel miserable as she walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

  She stood there for a long time, with the water running on her face, as she thought of him and wondered if he'd ever change. Or would he always want to sleep alone, decide it was too much trouble to come by after work, and be married to Joanie forever? As her tears mingled with the hot water, and she told herself how foolish she was to be upset, somehow she couldn't find the answers.

  She was exhausted when she finally turned the shower off half an hour later. He was probably at his office by then, and it seemed so odd to her to think that he was still in town, that he would be for two days and she wouldn't see him. And yet, when she tried to explain feelings like that to him, about needing him, or just wanting to be with
him, he didn't seem to get it.

  “Why do you think that is?” Dr. Green always asked her.

  “How do I know?” Allegra had snapped at her on more than one occasion.

  “Do you think it could be due to a lack of commitment on his part?” Dr. Green usually persisted. “Or maybe that he doesn't care as much for you as you do for him? Or maybe he's just unable to make the kind of commitment you want,” she suggested pointedly, following a familiar theme that always unnerved Allegra. Why was she always suggesting that the men in Allegra's life gave her far too little? Why was it a recurring theme, and why did she keep trying to say that it was a pattern? It really annoyed her.

  Allegra threw the rest of the blueberry muffins away. He had almost finished them, and she wasn't hungry anyway. She made herself a fresh cup of coffee, and then went to dress. She was ready to leave for work by eight-thirty, and she had some time to spare before she braved the freeway traffic. She glanced at her watch, and knew that her mother would have left for the studio at four A.M., but she left a message on her machine, confirming that she would join them for dinner on Friday night, and she'd be alone. She was sure that when she got there, it would cause comment, particularly if she told them where he was. But at least in the meantime, she didn't have to hear it.

  And then, dialing from memory, she called a Beverly Hills number that half the women in America would have given their right arm for. They had been friends since they were fourteen, boyfriend and girlfriend for a brief six months in their sophomore year in high school, and best friends ever since then. He answered, as he always did, unless he was “occupied” or out, on the second ring, and she smiled at the familiar voice, that to all ears but her own sounded intolerably sexy.

  “Hi, Alan, it's only me. Don't get too excited.” She always smiled when she talked to him, he was that kind of person.

  “At this hour?” He sounded horrified to hear from her, except that she knew he usually got up fairly early. He had just finished a film in Bangkok and he'd been home for three weeks. She also knew that he had just finished a romance with British film star Fiona Harvey. She had heard it from his agent. “What did you do last night? Get arrested? Are you calling to get bailed out?”