After a few more minutes of browsing, she spotted exactly what she was looking for. Two framed concert tickets autographed by the First Lady of Song. Jordan peered closer. The tickets were from Carnegie Hall, July 5, 1973. Yeah. She smiled to herself. This will do nicely. She didn’t even blink at the fifteen hundred dollar price tag.
An hour later in her room, she wrapped the framed tickets and scrawled a note. She would hire a messenger to take the package to Dez’s room.
Dez,
I know how much Ella meant to you and I couldn’t think of a better way to honor the inspiration she gave you. Please come to the wedding tomorrow evening. You don’t have to sing, just dance with me. One dance. I miss you. You have touched me in ways I can’t even begin to describe. But if you give me another chance, I would love to be able to tell you in person.
Jordan
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Shannon
All week the wedding’s approach had seemed surreal. Meeting with the caterers, the decorators, fine-tuning the plans, and even the silly but amazingly fun bachelor party hadn’t really driven home the fact that tomorrow she and Dani would actually be married. For months now it had seemed more abstract than real, like it was all happening to someone else, but now that more than two dozen of their closest friends—their wedding guests—were finally here, Shannon began to feel the heft of the approaching day. She was happy, of course she was, and thoughts of the big day should have been making her light-headed with joy, giddy, excited. And she was all of those things, except . . .
She watched Dani across the room twirling a glass of wine in her hand as she talked with Janet, a friend from college, and Janet’s husband Greg. Dani looked like she had not a care in the world—and why would she? She was not weighed down by the terrible knowledge that they couldn’t have a baby. That was Shannon’s burden to bear, and she could not continue to bear it alone much longer. It was the secret weighing her down, not the approach of the wedding. Keeping a secret of such importance from her partner was like an albatross around her neck. It was choking her, and even now it was as though she were underwater and had to fight for air.
Panic rose cruelly in her throat. She didn’t want to lose Dani. She didn’t want to let their dreams slip through her fingers, but she didn’t know how to stop the slow trickle that could easily turn into a rushing cascade if she were not careful. She looked to Amanda standing alone, leaning against a wall, an untouched glass of champagne clutched tightly in her hand. Claire stood a short distance away, a mirror image of Amanda. The two were the only ones who knew what she was dealing with, and Shannon walked toward their general direction. Maybe they could give her some solace. Or at least a momentary distraction.
She reached Amanda first and smiled. “It’s great to see everyone, isn’t it? Have you talked to Beth and Stan yet?” The older couple, long-time family friends, were Amanda’s godparents.
“Yes, I talked to them earlier. They look great.”
“And Joan. Oh, my God, did you hear her daughter’s just been accepted at Yale?”
“Yes, she was only too happy to tell me all about it, ad nauseum.”
“All right. Wanna tell me why you’re so grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy.” She stared morosely into her champagne as though it might contain something toxic.
It was entirely possible that her niece was simply hung over from the party last night—the party where she seemed to have had such a good time. Or she was just suffering from a little letdown from all the excitement, but something was definitely bugging her. “I guess this little reception isn’t quite as exciting as last night’s party, eh?”
Amanda sighed impatiently. “The reception is fine.”
Shannon regarded her niece curiously. Until this week, she’d never seen her so emotional—so out of sorts, so uncharacteristically up and down. Maybe it was the stress of school. Or money worries. Their heart-to-heart discussion had gone pretty smoothly. The failed marriage she was understandably sad about, but surely she’d made great strides in coming to terms with that by now. Unless it was being around a wedding celebration that was making her so sad.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” she whispered urgently. Amanda cast such a doleful look that it nearly broke Shannon’s heart. “Please? I want to help. Is it being around all this wedding stuff that’s making you sad?”
“No, it’s not the wedding. And there’s nothing you can help me with, Aunt Shannon.” With that uncompromising statement Amanda slunk away. She was being stubborn or cowardly, Shannon couldn’t decide which. It hurt that Amanda would not confide in her now, especially when they seemed to have grown close again. She considered going after Amanda but decided against it. She had enough of her own issues to worry about at the moment, with not much emotional energy left to spare.
Claire, she realized then, had been furtively watching their little exchange. Maybe she had a clue about what was going on with Amanda. They seemed awfully close lately. Perhaps Claire was in a better position to help get Amanda out of her funk.
“Claire. Is there something going on around here that I don’t know about?”
“What do you mean?”
Shannon’s patience was beginning to fray. Why was everyone in such denial? Or were they trying to spare her from something? “Everyone’s acting weird this week. You. Amanda. Jordan. Dani too, for that matter.” She sighed irritably, remembering the credit card fiasco. “I guess I have to include myself in that analysis, but you know the reason why.”
“I think it’s normal for everyone to be a little on edge before a wedding. I wouldn’t worry too much.”
“Christ, it’s supposed to be a happy time, yet everyone’s acting like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.”
Claire shrugged but she wouldn’t look at Shannon. “Okay, I don’t know then.”
This was the polar opposite of the stalwart and wise Claire she’d come to rely on. Claire was always a source of sensibleness, of strength, of objective and intelligent reasoning. She was always the steady one, even in her grief, and being out of answers was simply not like her.
“Are you okay?”
Claire shrugged again. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ah, the defensive rhetorical question. Well, Claire, you’re obviously not all right, Shannon wanted to say, but she was not sure how deep she wanted to go with the subject. Her well for dealing with people’s problems was pretty dry right now, as long as she and Dani had this mountain between them they had yet to scale. It occurred to her that Claire’s angst was perhaps in some way tied to Amanda’s, which was a troubling prospect. Either that or it was a coincidence that they were both wound up tight and having some sort of weird Mexican standoff, when just last night they seemed so happy and such good friends. She remembered them dancing together. Close together. Almost like two people who were dating. Or wanted to date. Okay, like two people who wanted to jump each other’s bones. Oh my God! No!
“C-Claire,” she stammered, “you two aren’t . . . you know. Are you?” She knew her face showed her worry, maybe even her distaste. Jesus, Claire and Amanda together would be incestuous, wouldn’t it? And kinda gross. Hell, Amanda’s my little Amanda, and Claire’s my best friend . . . No, it couldn’t be. Her imagination was running away on her, making something out of nothing. She downed the rest of her champagne in one gulp, studying her best friend from behind the rim of her glass.
Claire’s face slowly collapsed. Her eyes darted about as though she were a drowning person looking for a life preserver, and to Shannon it confirmed that there was indeed something going on between the two of them. Then Claire gathered herself, pulled on the mask. She was in control again, looking at Shannon like she was entirely on the wrong track.
Claire patted Shannon’s arm reassuringly, dismissively. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. Everything’s under control.”
Okay, whatever. She was playing the doctor role with her, and Shannon was so not i
n the mood for that kind of officiousness. She retreated. If anything was going on between Claire and Amanda—and it was a huge if—she was not up to dealing with it now.
Shoving the disturbing thoughts to the far recesses of her mind, she sought out Dani, stepped beside her, and let her partner’s arm slip protectively around her waist. She needed Dani’s comfort, her solidness. She needed Dani. She would love this woman, always. They belonged together, whether they had ten babies or no babies, and there was no secret they could not wrestle into submission. She would fight for Dani and for their life together. She hoped Dani would do the same.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Claire
The sex had been mind blowing. Sensational. Delicious. Fantastic. Extraordinary. There simply weren’t enough superlatives. Last night’s dream had by far been the best sex dream Claire had ever had, and if sex were ever actually like it in real life, she’d never get out of bed. Job be damned and everything else. She’d commit her life to having as much sex as she could. With Amanda. And there lay the problem—Amanda had been the star of her explosive wet dream.
Much as she wanted to, it was impossible to completely ignore Amanda tonight—it was the wedding rehearsal after all—but she rationed herself from looking at her too often or from acting with anything more than appropriate politeness. Moderation was the key. Like little sips of wine, she would only look briefly and intermittently at Amanda, because being in the same room with her brought the dream storming back, blazing a fiery trail through her body all over again, quickening her pulse, making her sweat, giving her that tingly sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was overload. Damn dream anyway. Jesus, am I fifteen years old or what?
The kiss had been the culprit. And the fact that it happened to be the best kiss Claire’d ever had. Not surprising that it had filtered into her dream afterward. Filtered in and taken over, pushing her mind into new territory, with a beautiful, naked Amanda doing impossibly sensual things to her with her hands and her mouth. She’d awakened sometime in the early morning, incredibly turned on, unable and unwilling to banish the dream. She finished herself off, willingly conjuring up images of Amanda and what Amanda could do to her. Using Amanda in this way to satisfy herself was far worse than the unwanted innocent dream. She selfishly made Fantasy Amanda do all the things she ached to have done to her, until she attained an explosive orgasm. Like paint peeling off a wall, the orgasm ripped her insides into blissful shreds.
The room was closing in on Claire and she needed to escape. She walked to the hotel’s indoor lion sanctuary a short distance away, her breath coming quickly as if she’d sprinted there instead of walked. People lined the thick glass walls, watching and pointing at the majestic golden creatures lounging on the fake rocks, and the anonymity of the crowd was Claire’s sanctuary. She liked the female lions. Or lionesses, she supposed. They were hunters, so graceful and sleek, built for stealth and strength. But as fascinating as they were to watch, nothing could stop her from thinking about last night’s dream and the kiss that had preceded it.
Kissing Amanda had been a selfish thing to do, and if she could take that kiss back, she would. The fact that it would have been impossible to stop it was not something she was willing to accept. She was in a mood to punish herself. Of course she and Amanda were attracted to one another. So what? Attractions happened between people all the time. It didn’t mean you had to act on them. To throw your life all to hell because of an impulse. She was stronger than that. Better than that. She would be better than that.
“Hey.”
The soft voice at her side shocked her into the present. It was Amanda.
Claire swallowed, her pulse kicking into high gear again. “Hi.”
“We should talk.”
No, no we shouldn’t. “Why?”
“Because we can’t leave things like they are.”
There was only another day to get through—the wedding day—and then this whole week would be over. She wanted to plead with Amanda to let it go, to leave things alone. But the young woman had that solemn, galvanized look in her eyes, like she wasn’t letting anything go until it was resolved. And resolved now. Shit.
Claire sighed and reluctantly gave in to the inevitable, gazing at the lions as she spoke softly. “We shouldn’t have kissed.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was wrong.”
“Why?” Amanda pleaded impatiently. “Why was it wrong? We’re both adults. Single adults who don’t have to answer to anyone. We’re allowed to make our own choices, Claire.”
“There’s more to it than that.” She looked at Amanda and saw fresh tears in the corners of her eyes. She wanted to soften the blow but didn’t know how. “You’re twenty-one years younger than me. It would never work.”
Amanda laughed acidly. “Please. So what if you grew up in an era of rotary telephones and typewriters, and I didn’t. What the hell does that honestly have to do with anything?”
“It’s more than being from two different eras. Jesus, Amanda, you don’t know what it’s like to wake up with stiff knees every day. Or to forget something and wonder if that’s the start of—of getting old and forgetful. Or to feel like your best years are behind you and that you’re too old to start over. You have no idea how any of that feels.”
“There’s a lot of things I don’t have firsthand knowledge of. So what? Aren’t there more important things than worrying about our differences? Like how we connect. How we communicate. How we feel when we’re together. Don’t those things count for anything?”
“Of course they do, but do you think I want you taking care of me someday when you’re still in your prime?” That was the crux of it all. She’d had to take care of Ann in her dying months, even though Ann was only four years older. Claire knew what it was like to give every ounce of yourself physically and emotionally to someone who was ill, and she did not want to put Amanda or anyone else through that. “There’s more,” she said in a quavering voice, “than just the present to think about.”
“Oh, Claire.” Amanda moved closer, clutched Claire’s hand protectively. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself, okay?”
Ahead of herself or not, it was called life. It was called being responsible, selfless, practical. Of course, Amanda was too young and optimistic to think of dark things like illness and old age, but Claire had seen those things before. Had lived them. She shook her head, momentarily unable to speak.
“I just want us to have some time to explore our feelings without fear,” Amanda whispered pleadingly. “We can go slow. As slow as you want.”
“No, it’s impossible,” she answered forcefully. “For one thing, Shannon would never understand or approve.”
“Shannon wants me to be happy. And she wants you to be happy too.”
“Yeah, but not with each other.”
“How do you know?”
Christ, was this nightmare never going to end? “Because I know her and she wouldn’t. Why can’t you take no for an answer?”
“Because in this case, no doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s all based on fear.”
Fear! What the hell did Amanda know about fear? She hadn’t seen death in her lover’s eyes. She hadn’t faced the prospect of a lifetime alone. No. Amanda had no right to be so judgmental, to take things so lightly, like it was a simple math problem that could be solved. “All right, then how about this. I’ve had my kick at the can. I’ve had my happily-ever-after. It’s over now. That’s it for me.”
Disbelief was written all over Amanda’s face. “So you’re just going to give up on life?”
Cranky and pushed to her limit, Claire dug in her heels. “Maybe I am.”
The tears that had threatened earlier rushed down Amanda’s cheeks. Claire hated hurting her like this. But maybe it was better to hurt her now rather than later, when they were more invested.
“I’m sorry,” was all Claire could manage, knowing the words were hollow and useless, but needed to be said anyway.
The only thing to be thankful for was that they’d only had sex in her dreams.
Without a word, Amanda turned and dissolved into the crowd. Claire watched her disappear. Knowing she’d done the right thing was poor consolation at the moment.
Chapter Thirty
Dani
Shannon had been clearly preoccupied throughout the rehearsal, and it worried Dani. Three times she’d had to be reminded of the lines to their vows, when Dani knew for a fact she’d committed them to memory. They both had.
In their room, their obligations for the evening finally over, Dani joined her on the sofa. She took a deep breath, then tentatively took Shannon’s hand. “What’s wrong, love?”
“Wrong? What do you mean?”
She wasn’t fooling Dani. There was panic in her eyes. And something grave. No, it wasn’t about florists delivering the wrong flowers or the rings getting lost or some other wedding detail gone awry. Dani’s stomach tightened. Had she found out she’d lost her job? Had Heather let it slip?
She wanted to know and yet didn’t want to know what was troubling Shannon. She was scared, but Shannon looked downright miserable. If this was finally going to be the epic unveiling of her secret, then so be it. It was the right thing to do anyway—clearing the air before the wedding. And if it meant there was not going to be a wedding tomorrow . . . Shit. With all her being, Dani did not want that to happen. They couldn’t turn back now. Everything was bought and paid for, the guests were all here and eagerly anticipating the wedding. They were locked and loaded, and all that was left was to pull the trigger on this thing and get married. As a business executive, Dani’s job was all about guiding projects to their fruition. For a project to die on the vine—a project that had been heavily invested in—was disaster. No. Whatever the consequences of this long overdue talk, it could not be the cancellation of the wedding. That was her bottom line. She’d already suffered the indignity of losing her job; she would not suffer the indignity of being stood up at the altar.
The Wedding Party Page 19