* * *
Julian couldn’t wait for the ceremony and all the pictures to be over so he could hold Gretchen in his arms again. She’d hovered on the fringes during the photo shoot, watching with adoration in her eyes, as she was instructed.
Their progressing physical relationship had certainly made their public appearances easier. Neither of them really had to act anymore. They just did what felt natural and it translated beautifully. He’d already had several people ask him about Gretchen, and he couldn’t help boasting about how smart and talented and beautiful she was.
It was all true.
At last, Julian’s duties were over, save for his toast at the reception. The wedding party finally made their way over to the ballroom and took their places to welcome the happy couple and witness their first dance. That done, they were allowed to take their seats, eat their dinner and finally relax. The round of toasts was completed during the salad course, effectively allowing Julian to be off duty the rest of the night. Weddings were exhausting, almost a bigger production than some of the movies he’d starred in.
“You look amazing,” he leaned in and said to Gretchen as the wedding cake was served. Julian wasn’t interested in dessert. He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the exposed line of her neck and shoulders. He ached to run his fingertip along her bare skin and leave a line of kisses in its wake.
Gretchen smiled at his assessment, her cheeks blushing adorably. “Thank you. You’re looking pretty dapper yourself.”
“Meh.” He dismissed it. He wasn’t interested in talking about himself tonight. He wanted the focus to be on her. “I can’t wait to get you out on the dance floor and show you off to everyone.”
Gretchen stiffened slightly, looking at him with concern in her dark eyes. “Dancing? We’ve never discussed the subject of dancing before. I’ve got a lovely pair of two left feet.”
“You can’t be that bad,” he dismissed.
“No, you don’t understand. My mother was a professionally trained ballerina. She tried to teach me to dance for years, then finally declared I was about as elegant and graceful as a rhino in heels.”
Julian flinched. That was a horrible thing to say to someone, much less your own daughter. No wonder she’d gone this long thinking she wasn’t worthy of a man’s attentions. “We’re not doing that kind of dancing,” he insisted. “I’m going to hold you close and we’ll just lose ourselves in the music. Nothing fancy, just dance floor foreplay.”
“Foreplay?” Her arched brow raised curiously.
“You betcha.” Julian knew a lot of guys didn’t like to dance, but those guys were damn fools. If they only knew how a good slow dance could prime the pumps, they’d all sign up for ballroom dancing lessons.
As if on cue, the bandleader invited the whole wedding party out onto the dance floor. “Here’s our chance,” he said.
“Aren’t you supposed to dance with the maid of honor?”
He turned to see her step out onto the floor with another man. “I guess not. Would you care to help a lonely gentleman out?”
Gretchen nervously took his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor. The song was slow and romantic, allowing him to take full advantage of the moment. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. It took a minute for her to relax, but eventually, she put her arms around his neck and took a deep breath to release the tension.
“See? This isn’t so bad.”
“You’re right. And if it wasn’t for the frantic flashing of cameras taking pictures, I might be able to relax.”
Julian shrugged. He’d learned long ago to tune all that out. It was hard for an actor to stay in the moment if he couldn’t ignore the camera in his face, the lights shining on him and the boom mike hanging overhead. There were really only two photographers tonight; the rest were just guests taking photos like at any other wedding. They were harmless.
“This moment is what the whole week was about. Let them take their pictures. Let them plaster it across their celebrity gossip magazine pages and make you a household name if that’s the price for bringing you into my life.”
Gretchen gasped softly at his bold words. He’d surprised himself with the intensity of them, but it had felt right at the moment. As time went on, he realized that he just couldn’t let this go when he returned home. He didn’t know how they could manage it or if it would work at all, but he wanted to try. He would be a fool to let such a sweet, caring woman drift out of his life.
The moment was perfect, like one carefully crafted by one of his directors. The lighting was dim with the occasional beam dancing across them. The music was soft and seductive, their bodies moving in time with it. Every inch of her soft curves was pressed against him. When she laid her head on his shoulder, it was as if the world had ceased to exist. The wedding guests, the cameras...all of it felt as if it was suddenly a million miles away and they were dancing all alone.
Her touch made his skin prickle with sensations, but none could come close to the lightness inside him. With Gretchen in his arms, he felt as though he could do anything. He could take on that gritty script, he could pursue a more serious acting career without compromising his brother’s care, he could have everything he wanted...including her.
It had been only a few days, but he had Gretchen to thank for opening his eyes to the possibilities. He intended to talk to Ross about it tomorrow morning. That script was everything he wanted, and a part of him needed to try out for it. He might not get it, or he might wish he hadn’t when the critics got a hold of him, but he needed to try.
The song came to an end, and Julian could feel the spell drift away with the last notes. This night could only be more perfect with Gretchen in his bed again. He wanted to get out of here before something interfered.
“Are you ready to go, Cinderella?” he asked as he led her off the dance floor.
“I don’t know,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “The minute we step out the door, it’s over, isn’t it? Our little fantasy relationship turns back into a pumpkin at midnight. If leaving means it’s over, then no. I want to stay and dance until the band unplugs and goes home.”
Julian pulled her tight against him and kissed her. A tingle traveled straight to his toes, making his feet feel as though they were asleep. “I’m not sure what time period Ross negotiated, but I really don’t care. If we walk out of this ballroom, I intend to take you back to my hotel and make love to you all night. And I’m going to keep doing that until I have to get on a plane and go back to LA. I don’t know about you, but to me, what’s going on between us has nothing to do with any business arrangement.”
“It’s not for me, either.”
Julian smiled. “Then slip out of this ballroom with me right now.”
Gretchen looked around the dim ballroom at the crowd on the dance floor and the others milling around their tables. “Isn’t it too early to leave? Isn’t there anything else you need to do as the best man?”
Julian shook his head. “I’m done. We’ll see them tomorrow morning at the farewell brunch.”
She was biting her lip, but he could tell he’d won the battle by the naughty glint in her eye. “Okay, let me go get my bag out of my office and we can go.”
Julian took Gretchen’s hand and they made their way out of the ballroom. He was moving quickly, weaving through the other guests. He couldn’t wait to peel that dress off her tonight. In the lobby, he waited while she dashed down the hallway to grab her things.
Then he heard it: the special ringtone designated for his brother’s care facility. Reaching into his tuxedo pocket, he grabbed his phone and said a silent prayer.
“Hello?” he said, wishing the voice on the line would tell him it was a wrong number or something.
“Mr. Curtis?” the woman said, dashing his hopes.
“Yes?”
<
br /> “Mr. Curtis, I’m sorry to have to call again, but this is Theresa from the Hawthorne Community. James’s condition has gotten substantially worse since we spoke last.”
“He’s in the hospital, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he isn’t responding quickly enough to treatment. The doctors think they might have to put him on a ventilator to keep his oxygen levels high enough while the pneumonia clears up.”
Julian should know more about his brother’s condition and what all this would mean for him, but he didn’t. His brother’s tracheostomy was supposed to solve his breathing problems, but apparently it wasn’t enough this time. “What does that mean? Is he going to be okay?”
“We don’t know. We called to give you the status and let you know that your mother is with him and hopes you can come as well. Do you think that will be possible?”
“Yes, I’m in Nashville right now. I can be there in a few hours. Which hospital is he staying in?”
“He’s at the university hospital. I’ll be sure to let your mother know you’re on your way.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
Julian hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked over his shoulder as Gretchen came from her office with her purse and a small duffel bag.
“Gretchen...” He stopped. He hated to derail everything, but he had no choice. “I’m going to have to cancel on tonight. I just got a call about James and I’m leaving for Kentucky as soon as I walk out of here.”
Her dark eyes widened with concern lining them. “Is he going to be okay?”
Julian felt a tightness constrict his chest, making it almost impossible for him to get out the words. “I...don’t know. I just know that I have to go. I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end.”
“Then let’s not let it end. Let’s go.”
“Go?” he asked in confusion. “You mean you want to go to Kentucky with me?”
She nodded quickly, without hesitation. “Absolutely.” Walking up to Julian, she placed a reassuring kiss on his lips and then took his hand to tug him toward the door. “Let’s get on the road.”
Nine
Julian hated hospitals. A lot of his childhood had been spent in one while his brother was tested and treated. Julian was the lucky one—no one ever came after him with needles and scalpels—but the scent when they exited the elevator was unmistakable. Bleach and blood and God-knows-what-else.
Having a firm grip on Gretchen’s hand made it easier. He’d never considered bringing her here until she suggested it, and then he’d realized he didn’t want it any other way. For all his muscles, having her here made him feel stronger. He wanted to introduce her to his family; he wanted to share this secretive part of his life with someone.
As they approached the waiting room outside the ICU, he heard his mother’s voice calling to him. Turning, he saw her pick up the coffee she was making and head their way.
His mother had been—and in his eyes still was—a beautiful woman. Time and stress had aged her faster than they should’ve, but you could still see the sparkle of the vibrant young woman beneath it all. Her wavy dark hair was more gray than brown anymore, but she still had the same bright smile, and her blue-gray eyes lit up when she saw him. Julian had her eyes, his own color much more sedate without his colored contacts.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” She smiled as she approached, wrapping him in a big hug, then turning to look at his unexpected companion. “And who is this?”
“I’m Gretchen,” she said, reaching out to take the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cooper.”
His mother smiled and shook her head. “It’s Curtis, dear. Cooper is Julian’s stage name. You can just call me Denise.”
“Mom, Gretchen and I are seeing each other.” It may have only been for a week, but it was true. This was more than just a setup relationship to him.
His mother looked them both up and down. “We’ve interrupted something important, haven’t we? You two look like you came here straight from an awards show or something.”
“Just a wedding that was winding down anyway,” Julian insisted. “You remember Murray, my roommate in college?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes, I bought one of his albums for James to listen to. That explains why you were in Nashville. Convenient timing, although there’s never really a good time for this.” His mother smoothed over her hair, which was pulled back into a bun.
“How is he doing?”
She shrugged, drawing her oversize cardigan tighter around her. “It changes by the hour. Doctors keep waiting, hoping his blood oxygen levels will start coming back up without further intervention, but they could decide to go ahead and put him on the ventilator. They worry that if they take that step, he might be on it permanently. I just hate it. He was doing so well.”
His mother shook her head sadly. “That trip to Europe for the Botox treatments made a huge difference. He was able to stretch his legs out, and the casts corrected some of the alignment problems he had in his legs. We were hopeful that with enough therapy we might get him walking, but this will set him back again. He’s always had the breathing troubles.”
Over the years, the spastic nature of his brother’s cerebral palsy had worsened as his underutilized muscles started to atrophy. He’d undergone multiple surgeries and years of therapy to lengthen his muscles in the hopes he could walk or manage other dexterity tasks on his own, but they always drew back up. The controversial Botox treatments weren’t legal in the States, but they’d taken the risk and traveled to a doctor who could try it. It had cost a fortune, but James had done so well afterward, it had been worth every penny.
“Can we see him?”
His mother bit at her bottom lip, reminding him of Gretchen. “Visiting hours are over, but maybe we can talk to someone.” His mother disappeared, returning a few minutes later with an encouraging smile on her face. “They’re going to let the two of you go back now, but just for five or ten minutes. You’ll have to come back again in the morning. He’s in the bed at the far end of the unit on the right. I’ll wait here for you and drink some more coffee. It’s going to be a long night for me.”
“Okay, we’ll be out in a minute.” Julian hugged his mother, then led Gretchen with him through the double doors of the ICU. They walked around the nurse’s station and to the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, he pushed back the curtain and found his identical twin lying in a hospital bed. It was such a familiar sight, he almost didn’t react to it the way he should’ve. His brother’s eyes fluttered open, then a lopsided smile spread across his face.
“Julian,” he mouthed with a raspy whisper, breaking into a fit of coughing.
“Try not to talk too much, James. Use your signs.” He let go of Gretchen’s hand to walk to his brother’s bedside. He scooped up James’s clenched fist and patted it. Both the boys had learned sign language when they were young to help James communicate without speaking. It was helpful when the tracheostomy made it that much more difficult for him to speak. “Mom says you’re having trouble breathing. Have you been sneaking pot again?”
His brother smiled at his joke and shook his head. “Can’t get any. Mean nurses,” he signed. James took a few rattling, wheezing lungfuls of air through the tracheostomy tube in his throat, making Julian more worried the longer he stood there.
Most people with a tracheostomy could speak by covering the tube with their finger or chin. Because James had such limited control of his hands and arms, that hadn’t been an option for him. Instead, they’d adjusted the valve in his windpipe so he could get just enough air to whisper between breaths. Even then, his speech was limited by muscle control in his throat and face. He tended to sign most of the time to get his point across, but occasionally, he’d speak a few words. It had never taken much for Julian to understand him. They we
re identical twins; Julian knew his brother inside and out. He just couldn’t help him.
“James, this is my friend Gretchen. She wanted to meet you.”
James’s head was almost always cocked unnaturally to the side with a pillow supporting his neck, but his gaze traveled past his brother to Gretchen. His left arm was drawn to his chest, but he waved his fingers at her. “Pretty,” he signed.
“Yes, she is. She’s very pretty.”
“I’d hit that,” James whispered with a smile.
Julian and Gretchen both broke into unexpected laughter. Despite everything, James always had a sense of humor. Whatever trauma that had impacted his ability to control his body had left his cognitive powers intact. He was smart and funny, and it made Julian sad that the world would miss out on what James could’ve done if he’d been born healthy like his brother.
“Uh, thank you, James,” she said, blushing at his amusing compliment. “How are you feeling?”
James shrugged. His brother probably didn’t know what it was like to feel good. He had okay days and bad days, but even his best days could be hard on him. Those were the days when he felt well enough to think about how he was trapped in a body that couldn’t do what he wanted it to do.
A loud, wheezing breath rattled through James’s trach tube, but it was quickly drowned out by a shrill beeping noise that sounded from the machine by James’s bed. Julian looked up, noting that the blood oxygen percentage on the screen was blinking red.
The nurse came in a second later, checking the screens. “You two will have to leave. We’ve got to get the ventilator hooked up.”
Two other nurses and a resident came in behind her, and Julian was pushed out into the hallway with Gretchen. As he watched them work on his brother, Julian realized that his fantasies of doing serious films were just that—fantasies. Hard-hitting, low-budget indie films might reap all the awards and get the buzz at Sundance, but they wouldn’t pay these bills. They wouldn’t cover charter flights to Europe for experimental treatments. Giving James the absolute best quality of life was his number one priority. His vanity and his artistic needs would always take second place to that.
One Week with the Best Man: Reclaimed by the Rancher Page 11