Always the Bridesmaid

by Whitney Lyles

  “Sorry, the curb jerk made me move. I’ll be right over.”

  As she approached the terminal again, she saw the stupid jerk threatening others with his stick. When she drove past him, she pretended to scratch the side of her face with her middle finger.

  Paul was easy to spot because he stood a head taller than most of the people at the curb. No matter how long Paul’s trips were, he never seemed to lose the suntan he got from surfing the Pacific Beach waves. Cate marveled at how he always looked healthy and fresh after long flights, his sandy blond hair neatly combed, jeans unwrinkled. God, he’s cute. He practically glowed next to the rumpled and exhausted-looking crowd of people on the sidewalk. He exposed his even teeth to her, held up a sinewy arm, and began to wheel his suitcase closer to the street.

  She pulled to a halt in front of him. His body felt warm when she hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek, then handed her a small bouquet of sunflowers.

  “Oh that’s so sweet,” she said as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”

  “I just bought them in the airport.”

  “That was so sweet of you.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked as Cate popped the trunk.

  “Starving.”

  “Good. I’m really in the mood for sushi. How do you feel about Zao’s?”

  She agreed.

  While Cate drove them to the restaurant, they talked about Paul’s trip. He told her about being humiliated when his luggage was thoroughly disemboweled at the airport security checkpoint.

  “They held up my travel candles, and one of the agents started laughing,” he said, still pissed.

  Cate had forgotten about the travel candles. His sister had given them to him for Christmas. The square candles came in a portable case and were meant to make frequent travelers feel comfortable in unfamiliar hotel rooms. It was a nice gesture, considering how often he traveled, but Cate hadn’t expected him to actually pack them on his trips. Every time he mentioned the candles, she imagined him drawing a bath in his hotel room, soaking in warm sudsy water, while his candles, burned nearby. Something about that image didn’t seem right. If she had been given travel candles, they probably would’ve ended up on the wicker chair in her bedroom.

  “Then they made me take off my shoes and hold each one up. I’m one of the most conservative people in the whole airport, and they search me. As if I was smuggling a bomb or drugs in my shoe.”

  “Well, you don’t look like a terrorist to me,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I think those searches are random. They do it by every tenth or twentieth person that goes through the line. I’m sure it had nothing to do with you.”

  He smiled at her affectionately before he began to flip back and forth between radio stations.

  Finding a parking place on Prospect Street was like finding a hundred-dollar bill next to a public trashcan. Impossible. The busiest street in La Jolla was lined with the finest restaurants, art galleries, and boutiques. She didn’t waste a second looking for a parking spot and went straight to the valet.

  As they walked to Zao’s, she could feel her hair becoming softer from the ocean’s moisture. Her bob would be wavy by the time they ordered their food. They rode the escalator up to the sushi restaurant.

  “Shit,” Paul muttered when they saw the crowd of people waiting outside. “I hope it’s not a long wait.”

  “It’s an hour for a table,” the hostess said over the swanky music that played from the restaurant speakers. “But you’re welcome to sit at the bar if you can find a spot.”

  After weaseling their way through the crowd, they found two stools at the bar. “What do you want to drink?” Paul asked as they sat down.

  “I think I’m just going to stick with water since I’m driving.”

  He shrugged. “All right.” He ordered himself a Stoli Vodka martini.

  “So what are you doing this weekend?” He scanned over the menu. “Do you want to go to the beach on Saturday?”

  “I wish I could. I’m going to Vegas for Val’s bachelorette party.” She closed her menu, feeling a little annoyed that the one weekend when Paul was in town she had to attend a bridesmaid obligation. “Do you think you’ll be able to take me to the airport on Saturday morning?”

  He nodded. “How many more weddings are you in this year?”

  “Three. My cousin Val’s, Leslie’s, and Beth’s.”

  “That’s kind of crazy. All those people getting married.”

  “Why?” Does he have something against marriage?

  “Well, I don’t know. That’s just a huge step. It’s scary. I’m not saying that I don’t ever want to get married. I’m sure that someday it would be great. I just think that right now, marriage seems kind of freaky.”

  She debated taking this conversation even further. How far away was someday? Was she a part of someday? She wanted to ask. However, if he considered marriage to be scary, she would send him running from the restaurant and out of her life forever if she started questioning him about the future. She wanted to talk about these things, but she sensed that she was going to have to wait.

  “That reminds me,” she said. “Are you going to be in town for Halloween?”

  “Halloween?” Paul reached for a piece of bread.

  She knew it was pointless to ask. His trips were almost always planned a month in advance—no earlier but often later. “Yes. I know it’s crazy. But Beth is getting married on Halloween. She’s making us all dress up, too.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. October’s usually a little slow. I might be here.”

  He plucked the olive from his martini, then popped it into his mouth. Cate hated those olives.

  “Anyway,” he said after polishing off the condiment. “What shall we order?”

  “Yellowtail, of course,” she said. “And a holy moly roll.”

  “Yum. That sounds good.” He checked her orders off on the tab as well as three other rolls that he liked. “And I’m really in the mood for shrimp, so we may as well just get an order of those, too.” He made a big check next to shrimp before handing their order to the bartender.

  Going to sushi with Paul was the best. He loved to try everything, so they always ended up ordering an array of different rolls and sashimi.

  He looked at Cate as if she had said something that amused him.

  “What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  He laughed. “What way?”

  “I don’t know. You’re just looking at me kind of weird.”

  “I just missed you on my last trip, Cate. That’s all.” He reached for her hand.

  “I missed you, too,” she said and squeezed his palm.

  “I want you to start coming with me on some of my trips.”

  “You are saying all the right things tonight.”

  “I mean it,” he said. “I missed you a lot.”

  Again, why no consistent phone calls? She forgot about his flaky streak when their food arrived.

  She took a piece of the holy moly roll and dipped it in garlic ponzo sauce. God, she loved sushi. They feasted on the food, leaving only a couple of pieces on the plate. Paul ordered another martini, and they talked about his trip until the bartender brought their check.

  Paul picked up the tab, then reached into his back pocket. “Dammit!” he yelled, causing people to look over their shoulders.

  “What?”

  “I left my wallet in my backpack. It’s in the car. Shit!”

  “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  She took the bill from his hands, gave it a once-over, then slipped her credit card into the leather folder.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get you next time,” he said.

  “No worries.”

  She signed the sixty-dollar tab, twenty-one of which were Paul’s martinis, and left the bartender a ten-dollar tip.

  The breeze outside was crisp when they left the restaurant. Paul pulled her into a snug embrace while they waited for the valet to br
ing the Volvo. She pressed her cheek against his chest and enjoyed the warm blanket his arms created around her body.

  “It’s good to be back,” he whispered before he kissed the top of her head.

  She could feel his erection against her leg. Laughing, they ignored the other people who waited for their cars, not caring if anyone was watching. She suddenly felt eager to get home.

  Sex with Paul was mind-blowing, to say the least. This was partly because he had made her feel completely comfortable when they were in the bedroom, showering her with compliments and taking each step slowly. He loved her body and made her feel relaxed and proud to share herself with him. He was also the only guy she had ever known who understood that foreplay actually involved more than a few sloppy kisses and a couple seconds of heavy petting. Her previous boyfriends had always raced to the finish line, making Cate feel panicked as if she were in a race, too, and if she didn’t climax quickly, it would be over before she knew it. Paul could last forever in the bedroom.

  She breathed in the scent of his Armani cologne mixed with everything else that was Paul. There was nothing like the way he smelled. When he was away, she missed his scent the most. It wasn’t just his cologne. It was his hair and his breath. Even his bad breath didn’t smell bad.

  “Ben is working tonight. We could rent a movie . . . watch it naked on the couch,” he said playfully.

  “That sounds like fun.”

  The Volvo was making its rattling noise when the valet pulled up behind a Jaguar at the curb. Cate paid and tipped the valet before she sat down behind the wheel.

  “You should really get that noise checked out,” Paul said as he slid into the passenger seat.

  “I know. It’s summer, though, and I’m not making much money, so I might have to wait a little while.”

  He flipped on the radio, stifling the ticking sound.

  At Blockbuster they browsed around the video-covered shelves.

  “Amélie! I have always wanted to see this!” Cate exclaimed.

  Paul picked up the case, looking to see if the movie met his standards. “It’s in subtitles?”

  “Yes. It’s French. It’s supposed to be sooooo good. I’ve heard nothing but great things about it.”

  He shook his head. “From who? Beth. No thanks.” He placed it back on the shelf. She’d actually heard it was good from Sarah and Miles—two of his friends also—but didn’t get a chance to mention that. “I am not going to reeead a movie,” he said. “You can rent that one with Jill. How ’bout this?” He held up Domestic Disturbance.

  Cate shrugged. “All right.” Vince Vaughn was in it, so it had to be pretty good.

  Paul had taken his wallet from his backpack when they had driven to the video store, and he paid for the movie.

  His house was dark when they arrived. His roommate was a fireman, so he spent half of his week living at the firehouse. They rarely saw him. This living situation allowed them to spend careless nights cuddled up, naked, beneath blankets on Paul’s fluffy ivory couch. In the middle of the night they also had the freedom to walk to the bathroom or the kitchen without dressing.

  Paul dropped his suitcase by the front door. As he walked through the living room, he began flipping on light switches. He stopped to shuffle through a stack of mail that had accumulated since he had been away. “Mostly garbage,” he said before tossing half the pile into a nearby wastebasket.

  Cate liked his place more than she liked her own apartment. She loved the sound their shoes made when they walked across the hardwood floors and the cool breezes that drifted from the bay in the morning.

  He and Ben had nice things, too. Comfortable couches that they had purchased at Pottery Barn, instead of taking them from their grandmothers’ garages. He had art books on his coffee table and original framed and matted prints that he had purchased from artists on all of his travels.

  “Well, you can tell I’ve been out of town,” Paul said irritably as he pointed to the pile of dirty dishes that had accumulated in the kitchen sink.

  Ben had a habit of leaving his dishes in the sink, or worse, on the coffee table. Instinctively, Cate began to line up the dirty bowls and glasses in the dishwasher.

  Paul pulled her away. “Don’t do those. Go sit down. I’m going to open a bottle of wine.”

  He gave her butt a playful pat before she left him in the kitchen.

  Nights like these were usually Cate’s favorite. She loved the simple things with Paul, the cozy routine they shared when he was home. They would watch a movie, drink a bottle of wine, and fall asleep spooned against each other’s warm bodies. In the morning they would lie in bed, watching an episode of Trading Spaces, still curled together in each other’s arms. Then they would eat brunch at the Brockton Villa, ordering an extra side of potatoes and tasting each other’s entrées. It was the little things that made her happy, and she never wanted these weekends to end. But tonight she felt strange, as if some unknown worry were gnawing away at her nerves.

  Maybe it was because of their conversation at dinner. Was he afraid of marriage? Or was he afraid of marrying her? She felt as if they had started watching a movie and had left the theater before it ended. Now she wished she had drawn the marriage conversation out a little further. However, she didn’t feel like they were at a level where she could openly discuss these things with him.

  She knew she was going to have to be patient if she wanted answers. Things had always moved slowly in their relationship. They’d been friends for three years before he even made the first move. She had always considered his traveling to be the main reason as to why their relationship had progressed so slowly. They didn’t spend every free second together, the way Sarah and Miles did, because he was gone half the time, and when he was home, he had a million things he needed to do to catch up. She often felt stumped when people asked about him.

  “What’s Paul doing today?” Leslie or Beth would ask. “He’s back from his trip, right?”

  She’d feel chagrined when she stammered for a response. “Yeah, he’s back, but well . . . I . . . uh . . . well . . . I haven’t talked to him since yesterday morning.” Then she’d find herself fighting off annoyance until he called. Her engaged friends always knew the exact whereabouts of their boyfriends.

  She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “You look like you’re waiting for something,” he said.

  She turned from the window. He was holding two glasses of wine. “Waiting? What do you mean?” She took one of the glasses.

  “You just looked like you were waiting for something, or someone—standing by the window like that.”

  For a second she felt tempted to tell him she was waiting for something, only she wasn’t sure exactly what she should say. Will you please quit your job and tell me that you see a solid future for us?

  She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t waiting for anything.”

  He pulled her into his arms and laughed. “My little Cate. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, too,” she whispered, all the while trying to figure out exactly what she was waiting for.

  Cousin Val’s Wedding •

  5 • Tips-Vegas Style

  Las Vegas, the City of Thirst. That’s what Cate thought as she rode in the airport shuttle toward Mandalay Bay. After only ten minutes in Vegas, the dry heat had sucked the moisture right out of her hair. Her bob had fallen flat and thin and hung like a limp rag around her face.

  The desert, lacking all that was vital, seemed to take things from people. It made them need. They needed to win. They needed to party. They needed deodorant.

  “The locals say this is the nicest hotel on the strip,” the driver said as they pulled into a driveway that looked as if it covered twenty acres. “Nicest restaurants. Nicest bars. Best pool. You’ll have a great time.”

  A blast of heat covered her as she left the air-conditioned van. It reminded her of going swimming when she was little. It felt like stepping out of a c
old pool and into a sun-soaked towel that her mother held open for her, wrapping her tiny body inside its oven.

  She handed two crisp one-dollar bills to the shuttle driver.

  A piercing squeal shot in her direction, causing her ears to ring. “Ahhhhh! Caaaaate!” A squad of blondes surrounded her.

  Although there were only ten bridesmaids in the wedding, Val had invited half of her sorority to Vegas. They were all waiting in front of the hotel when Cate arrived. Fruity cocktails in hand, they wore swimsuits and skimpy poolside cover-ups.

  Val threw her arms around Cate’s shoulders. “I’m soooo glad you’re here! We need to get you in your bathing suit, and you need a cocktail pronto. Can someone please get this girl a Long Island? Now.” Promptly, one of her friends scouted out a cocktail waitress.

  The only thing Cate and cousin Val had in common was that their mothers were sisters. They were worlds apart, but had always been friends. At twenty-two, Val was four years younger than Cate. Her parents were loaded. She was an only child, and her father had sprung for the entire bachelorette weekend.

  She pinched the side of Cate’s arm, sending a smart sting up her bicep. “It’s sooo good to see youuuuu.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for a while,” Cate said.

  She glanced at Cate’s hands. “What are you holding? Your luggage?” She spun around. “Excuse me! Sir!”

  A bellman, out of breath, approached them. “What can I do for you, miss?” Sweat soaked his Mandalay Bay-issued shirt. Cate thought his glasses were going to slide off the tip of his nose because his face was so slick from perspiration.

  Val pointed to Cate’s bags. “Room 3103. We’ll be up in a minute. Thank you.” She handed him a five before she turned to Cate. “You’re sharing a room with me. We have a suite.”

  The lobby felt like the Artic Circle. Nearly frigid air-conditioning filled the hotel. Two women wearing loud tropical print dresses held parrots near the front desk. They looked as if they had just come from the Playboy mansion. A small crowd of men gathered around them. Admiring the birds?