Beach Wedding

by Cruise, Bella

  I pause. Turning left will take me north through the Keys towards the mainland. But right… right leads me back to Luke’s place.

  I can’t just leave him again, not feeling the way I do.

  With a surge of determination, I turn the wheel right. I drive the short distance to his house on the beach, my heart pounding faster with every passing mile. I’m ready to tell him everything, declare my love and refuse to go until he listens; until he understands. But when I turn into his driveway, his truck is gone. There’s just one of his crew, loading something into the van. I go upstairs and check the house, but even though the door is open, the place is empty.

  “Is Luke around?” I call down hopefully. If he’s at one of their construction sites, I’ll do whatever it takes.

  The guy gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s on vacation.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Left a couple of hours ago, a spur of the moment thing, he said. Won’t be back for a week or two.”

  My heart sinks. “Do you know where?”

  “Sorry. Said he was taking a road trip, maybe a cabin somewhere.” He shrugs. “You could try him on his cell.”

  “No,” I exhale, disappointed. “Thanks all the same.”

  I pause on the deck. He’s gone. I can’t believe it. I guess I didn’t realize until now that I was still holding out some glimpse of hope – that he would change his mind, that he would realize we’re meant to be together. But instead, he made sure he was the one who skipped town first.

  There’s nothing keeping me here anymore.

  My heart aches, but I can’t leave like this. I have to show him, somehow, what he means to me. Hope that one day, perhaps, he’ll think twice and come around.

  I step inside the house and look around. There’s some paper on the table, and I find a pen too. I think for a long time about what to write: an apology, a promise, something to express the way I feel about him, the way I’ve always felt.

  I could write a novel with everything that’s in my heart, but in the end, I only need five words.

  It will always be you.

  I slowly lift my necklace over my head. My parents’ wedding rings, the ones I keep near me for strength. For luck.

  I undo the clasp and carefully lift off one of the rings. I kiss it, and place it by my note. Then I put the remaining necklace back on – half a promise, separated from its partner. Just like my heart.

  I head back to my car and hit the highway again, flashing back ten years ago to the last time I made this exit drive. I had a couple of bags in the backseat, and a broken mess of a heart.

  I guess some things never change.

  ‘You are now leaving Pelican Key Cove. Come see us again soon!’

  I wipe away my tears, and keep driving.

  Three months later…

  “White doves and roses?”

  “Whatever Pixie was having,” my latest clients say eagerly. “We want exactly the same thing.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I smile at them across the desk. “But it’s your wedding, too. We want to add personal touches so it has meaning for your relationship. Like a special song at the reception, or your favourite flowers in the bouquet.”

  “What flowers did Pixie have?” the bride demands. “I mean, what was she going to have?”

  I laugh, rising to my feet. “We’ll figure it out together. We have a few months to get it right, and I promise, you both will have the perfect day.”

  I show them out, and close the door with a sigh of relief. It’s been a long day, but then, every day since I got back has been booked solid. Despite the fact that the big Princess and a Rockstar wedding never actually happened, the network went ahead and started airing the series—advertising ‘the twist we all saw coming’. I don’t know if it was a parting gift from Marcie, but my wedding planning came off looking great, and the minute the first episode aired, my phone started ringing off the hook. Just like she promised, I tripled my rates, and business hasn’t slowed yet. I was even able to promote a few people and hire more to handle the expanding business, moving us into cute new offices in the West Village.

  “I’m done for the day.” I poke my head in on my new hires. “You guys should pack up, too.”

  “I just have a couple more things on the Drexel planning,” Jody says. “She’s got her heart set on Celine Dion again.”

  We exchange a look. “Didn’t the groom threaten to turn around and leave her at the altar if that was the wedding march song?”

  “Yes,” she sighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You could see if there’s a cover of it around?” I suggest. “Maybe if someone else is singing “My Heart Will Go On”, he won’t even notice until it’s too late.”

  “Good idea,” she brightens. “I’ll give it a shot.”

  “OK, goodnight!”

  I meet Theo just coming in on my way out. He’s toting bag full of centerpiece samples from his new clients, weighed down with hyacinths and begonia. “You heading home?” he asks. I nod.

  “I’ve got a hot date with some Thai food and a glass of wine.”

  “Come over,” he insists. “Pixie’s throwing a big party for the final episode. We’ve got a ton of people and food, it’ll be fun!”

  “You want to watch that all over again?” I’m surprised. The last show is the one where everything fell apart: the tears, the fights, Pixie weeping in a cheap motel room.

  Theo gives a wry smile. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” he says. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

  “I guess,” I laugh. For them, anyway. Theo and Pixie returned from their non-honeymoon even more in love. They’re living together now in her apartment uptown – no cameras allowed. “But I’m too wiped for a party,” I apologize. “You guys have fun.”

  Back at my apartment, I change into my sweatpants, and collapse in front of the TV. Jules calls before I’ve even dug the remote out from behind the couch cushions.

  “Are you watching?”

  “Give me a chance!” I laugh. I finally find the device, and click over. “OK, it’s on. Starting after the commercial break.”

  “How much do you think they’ll show?” Jules asks. I can hear her eating something in the background. “It won’t be the whole thing, you think? The tears, the meltdown.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been so cute and funny up until now.” Surprisingly, Pixie and Clyde’s adventures in Pelican Key Cove have been a hit. The town comes off as quirky, sure, but nobody’s the butt of any joke.

  “I wonder if they’ll show your little speech.” Jules says.

  “No way. I’m not the star, remember?”

  “But they’ve shown a lot of you so far.”

  “As the wedding planner,” I argue. “Those scenes were all about Pixie and Clyde. They’ve probably edited me out of every shot.”

  At least, I hope so.

  “So, how was your day?” I ask, settling back.

  “Very productive,” Jules replies. “I played hooky to shop for my perfect New York City wardrobe.”

  I laugh. “They do have stores here, you know.”

  “But it’s so much fun planning! I can’t wait.”

  “Me too.” Jules is booked to arrive next week, and I’ve planned us a ton of fun things to do.

  “And when are you planning on coming back down here?” Jules asks. “I would have thought your aunts would be laying it on thick to get you back for the holidays.”

  “Not this time! Rae’s talking about a meditation retreat in Tibet, and Bettina’s still out on the road with Clyde.”

  “I have to say, I didn’t see that one coming,” Jules laughs.

  “Nobody did.” I grin.

  It turns out Clyde wasn’t too cut up about being left at the altar, because not a week after I got back to NYC, I received a postcard, stamped from New Mexico.

  ‘Giving the airsteam a workout & making beautiful music. Love Bettina & Clyde.’

  I gu
ess the old dog had some new tricks in him after all.

  “Ooh, it’s starting.” Jules says. I turn up the volume on the TV and brace myself for show time. Sure enough, the first shot in the ‘previously on’ segment is the four of us relaxing on Luke’s back porch.

  I feel a familiar pang. That was the night we slept together again, and my whole world shifted back into Technicolor. I hadn’t realized just what I’d been missing, until Luke took me in his arms and showed me what it was to really feel passion, to connect on a deeper level.

  “Ginny?” Jules’ voice comes. She’s still on the other end of the line. “You holding up OK?”

  “Sure,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

  I reach for the single ring hanging around my neck, missing its partner. I’ve been trying not to think about him since I got back. I’ve thrown myself into work, and focused on a dozen happy couples to forget about the empty ache in my own heart. But there he is, on my TV screen right in front of me. Smiling across the grill at me, that special warmth in his eyes.

  It still hurts like hell that I lost him again.

  “You know what, I don’t think I can watch this?” I tell Jules. “It still hurts too much.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. I understand. I’ll see it through, and report back, OK?”

  “Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I hang up and shut the TV off. It’s too painful a reminder of what we almost had – and the moment when it all fell apart. I know that Pixie got her happy ending after all, and Clyde, too. I’m happy for them, I really am, but when I think about that wedding now, all I can feel is loss for the moments with Luke I got to share again – and then see slip away.

  Suddenly, there’s a hammering on my door. “Ginny?” It’s Theo’s voice.

  I go answer. “What’s going on? What about your party?”

  Theo looks stressed. “It’s Lexi Sanderson,” he says, out of breath. “She just stopped by the Boathouse, to show her mom the plans, I guess. They’re tearing the whole thing down. Construction.”

  I gasp. “What? When will it be up? Nobody told us anything about it!” The Sanderson wedding is in just a few days; I’ve been to the permit office at least half-a-dozen times, and nobody said anything about construction!

  “She’s there now, and she’s having a major meltdown,” Theo warn me. “We better get over there right away.”

  “Of course. I’m coming.” I grab my purse and a jacket. I follow Theo down to the cab. He seems in a real rush, and I don’t blame him: the Sanderson wedding is the first one I let him take the lead on, and he’s been working overtime to make everything runs smoothly.

  We speed through the evening traffic, and I pull out my phone to call Lexi. Theo stops me. “She’s not answering,” he says. “I just hope she hasn’t thrown herself off the pier before we get there.”

  “It’s more likely to be a construction guy taking a dip,” I look out of the window, relieved to see the park come into view. “Come on, we can make it faster on foot from here.”

  I pay the cab and get out, hurrying along a side path to reach the Boathouse. I’m expecting noise and construction, and a bride-to-be in full meltdown, but when I round the corner, it’s quiet – and there’s no scaffolding or trucks to be seen.

  The Boathouse is beautiful: tiny lights are strung up along the terrace, reflecting with the city lights off the dark water. There are flowers strung along the railings, and—is that music?

  I look around, confused. Theo is hanging back by the path, with Pixie beside him. They’re both beaming. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Theo nods back towards the lake. I turn, and see someone step out of the shadows on the dock.

  Luke.

  My heart stops. I don’t understand.

  “Go on,” Pixie hisses. “Go to him!”

  I move closer, in a daze. But it’s really him: looking devastatingly handsome in a formal suit, cleanly shaven, with a nervous smile on his face.

  “I… what are you doing here?” I stammer as I reach him. “I thought… You said…”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so, so sorry.” Luke takes my hands, and just his touch sends a wave of emotion straight through me. I can’t believe he’s really here, standing in front of me.

  Looking at me like that.

  “I was stupid,” he says, swallowing. I can see his expression is uncertain, and full of regret. “I was so scared of getting my heart broken all over again, I pushed you away. I didn’t give us a chance, I didn’t even tell you…” He stops.

  “Tell me what?” I whisper, hope blossoming in my chest. This is the moment I didn’t even dare to dream about. A real second shot with him. A chance to say once and for all what’s in our hearts, and make it real. A future together.

  “That I love you.” Luke says. “It’s always been you, Ginny. I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”

  “So don’t,” I manage to say, through the tears already streaming down my cheeks. “Don’t ever try. I love you too, more than you’ll ever know. It’s my biggest regret, walking out on you all those years ago. All I’ve ever wanted is to make it up to you.”

  “I know.” He smiles. “I saw what you said to Pixie.”

  “When?” I frown.

  “The final episode,” he explains.

  “But that’s airing right now.”

  “Marcie sent me a copy,” he says, with a wry smile. “I guess she’s not such a cynic after all.” He pauses. “I saw what you said to her, about being brave enough to trust your heart. I want us to be together, Ginny. I don’t care how. All that matters is that it’s you and me. I’ve never found anyone like you, and something tells me I never will.”

  There’s a sudden explosion of light and color in the dark sky. “Are those fireworks?” I ask, looking up. “Or am I just so happy I’m hallucinating right now?”

  Luke chuckles. “Those are really fireworks,” he says, gently putting his arm around me. “I think your friends managed to put us on a show.”

  I make a mental note to give Theo a raise, but then Luke is pulling me closer against him, and the real world disappears again.

  “Be mine?” he murmurs, tilting my head up towards him.

  “I always have been,” I whisper back.

  He pulls something from his shirt pocket, glinting gold in the lights. The ring I left him, the matching pair to my own. Luke gently takes my hand and slides it on my left hand. “Right where it belongs.”

  He kisses me under the fireworks, as the night explodes with joy. And I know this is forever.

  THE END

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  CHAPTER 1

  My mom taught me that art is everywhere; you just have to look. “Keep your eyes open, Grace, and you can always find the beauty,” she said, filling our small apartments with gorgeous paintings and bright colors, pointing out shapes and compositions as we walked city streets. Her love of art inspired mine, but right now my heart and head are pounding under the stress of running late, so it’s hard for me to notice anything pretty about the traffic literally standing between me and the chance of a lifetime.

  “Um, excuse me?” I pipe up from the back seat of the immobile taxi cab, anxiously looking at the driver slumped in his seat. He ignores me.

  I check my watch again: 8:41 am. Crap! I bite my lip to keep from yelling. Crapcrapcrap. I’m supposed to be at Carringer’s Auction House in nineteen—make that eighteen—minutes. First BART was late, and now I’m spending the last of this week’s tips to be trapped in this smelly cab, sweating under my best business outfit. My only business outfit.

 
; After a year of dropping off resumes and talking up gallery owners and museum directors, I’d nearly given up hope of finding a job in the art world until last week when the best auction house in San Francisco called me. Carringer’s deals in the most sought-after and highly-valued art and antiquities in the world: French Impressionist paintings, Chinese ceramics, Native American head masks, Greek sculptures…I get chills just imagining the masterpieces that flow in and out of those vaults. If I’m late to this interview, the first opportunity I’ve had in months might slip away and I’ll be serving spaghetti and meatballs at my waitress gig until I permanently smell like marinara and am too old to remember the specials.

  “Sir?” This time I rap insistently on the plexiglass separating me from the driver. He eyes me in the rearview mirror. “I’m super late. Is there a short cut or something you could use?”

  The minute hand on the watch my mother gave me jerks forward again and we’ve gone less than a block. Why aren’t we moving?! As if the obvious answer wasn’t right outside my window, honking and spewing fumes and inching along like snails on their way into the financial district’s high rise office buildings.

  The driver just laughs at me. “What do you think?”

  I think you smell like someone Febreezed over a cigar shop. But it’s the number one rule of waitressing: rudeness never pays. “How much further is Gold Street?”

  The cabbie shrugs. It’s 8:43.

  “Is it close enough to walk?” I press him.

  “Sure,” he says. “Everywhere is close enough to walk to eventually.”

  Screw this. There is no possible way for me to arrive looking cool and collected as planned anyway since my makeup probably already looks like a Jackson Pollock, and I’m not going to let some stupid traffic keep me from my dream. “Here,” I say, tossing a pile of ones onto the front seat and scooting out the door. “I’ll take my chances.”

  The cab driver rolls his eyes. “Maybe ten blocks,” he says. I inhale a deep breath of crisp ocean air, steady my purse on my shoulder, and start jogging.