The Rehearsals

by Annette Christie

  Megan laughed through her growing tears. Yes, she’d seen her aunt in every other day. But today of all days, Megan really needed Paulina.

  “What’s going on, baby girl?” Paulina said into Megan’s hair as she held her tight. “Not that I don’t love the hotel-hobo look, but you’re a bit of a train wreck.”

  “It’s off, everything’s off.”

  When Megan was little, getting in trouble at school was devastating. If she was scolded by a teacher, she’d push every sob and wail deep, deep down so as not to embarrass herself further in front of her classmates and then, when the bell rang, she’d run as fast as her legs could carry her to Paulina’s house. As soon as Paulina opened the door, the dam would burst, and Megan would cry in her aunt’s arms until she’d let every miserable shuddering sob out.

  Standing in the hotel lobby, her aunt squeezing her tight, her pregnant belly wedged comfortably between them, Megan felt like that little girl who’d gotten into trouble at school.

  Only this problem was considerably more convoluted.

  “Hamza,” Paulina called over Megan’s trembling head. “Are we checked in? Do you have the keys?”

  “Got ’em,” Megan heard Hamza say.

  “Okay, baby girl. Let’s take this conversation somewhere a little less public, hmm?”

  They walked to Paulina and Hamza’s room together, Megan assisting with the luggage, Hamza sweetly distracting her by talking about her aunt’s baffling mood swings and desire to eat only dairy.

  “I came home and she was pouring chocolate syrup directly into the jug of milk,” Hamza said with a bewildered smile.

  “Yeah, don’t let him regale you with the tales of the pregnancy flatulence that followed,” Paulina added wryly.

  “We like to blame Lina’s current inability to behave herself in polite society on the baby.” Hamza patted Paulina’s belly. “The baby is a gassy little thing.”

  Hamza used the key card to let them into the room, pushing the door open so Paulina and Megan could go first. And then, because he truly was one of the greatest men to walk the earth, he offered to leave.

  “I’ll go get us some coffees, shall I?”

  “And some scones.” Paulina pointed at Megan. “I’m allowed to have a certain amount of milligrams of caffeine a day and you better believe I consume every one.”

  “Yes, I could definitely use some coffee. Thanks, Hamza,” Megan said, then sat down on the edge of the bed while Paulina sprawled back against the headboard, taking off her shoes as though it were a religious experience.

  As soon as Hamza opened the door to leave, Gran and Granddad poked their heads in.

  “There’s my Paulina,” Gran said, patting Hamza on the cheek affectionately before pushing her way in. “Are you ready for brunch?”

  Granddad followed her, gave Hamza a hug, and immediately tried to cover Paulina’s toes with a blanket. It was a warm, muggy day, but he always assumed people were chilly. Blankets were Granddad’s love language.

  Paulina cast a glance at Megan, who silently pleaded with her aunt not to leave her alone in her distress.

  “Mom and Dad, you are sights for jet-lagged eyes,” Paulina said, still stretched out on the bed. She reached a hand out for each of them. “But I am so, so knackered from the flight. Can we skip brunch and just go for our little sail around the harbor afterward?”

  “I’ve been excited to get on that boat of yours for weeks,” Hamza added charitably.

  “We’ll let you get some rest.” Gran patted Paulina’s leg and turned to Megan. “And how’s the bride-to-be? Any pre-wedding jitters? Because there’s still time for you to haul your tush out of here.”

  “Our Meggy doesn’t need to run away.” Granddad’s light blue eyes twinkled. “Tom’s such a nice young man.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Megan smiled blankly. “Yep. All good here.”

  “Well, try not to wander around the hotel in your bathrobe.” Gran gave her the once-over. “Makes you look like a floozy.”

  With that, Hamza ushered Gran and Granddad out the door, asking if they’d like to walk down to the market with him.

  “I’m sorry I’m ruining your brunch plans,” Megan said when they were alone again.

  Paulina blew out a breath. “Please. I’m not too keen on going to a restaurant right now. As long as we take a spin on Happy Accident later, both Mom and Hamza will be appeased.”

  Megan wanted to stay in this moment of feeling normal, of just being with her aunt, pretending the world was still spinning as it should. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pregnant,” Paulina said sardonically. “Did you know Hamza’s shaving my legs for me now? I can’t even see my knees and the angle’s too awkward, but I hate the feel of hairy legs.”

  “He’s one of the good ones.” Megan crawled up to the top of the bed and rested her cheek on the pillow next to her aunt. She let her head fall onto Paulina’s shoulder and tried not to cry.

  “So what’s off? What’s over?” Paulina asked kindly.

  “The wedding.” Megan thought she could fall asleep right here, stay unconscious for the next several incarnations of this day. But she wasn’t sure she could ever sleep enough to overcome this exhaustion.

  “Are you sure?” Paulina wasn’t an alarmist. She’d stayed calm when Brianna was a toddler and had choked on one of Alistair’s Legos; she’d deftly flipped her over and performed the Heimlich. Likewise, she remained serene through all of Donna’s tantrums, even the ones in which her sister threw whatever breakable objects were within reach.

  “I’m sure.” Megan swallowed, fighting fresh tears. “I hate to put this on you, but can you let everyone know? Take care of the nasty details?”

  “Nasty details? You mean like Donna?”

  A choked laugh burst out of Megan. “Don’t forget Tom’s parents.”

  Paulina sat up, adjusted a pillow behind her lower back. “Megan, honey, you know I will do absolutely anything in the world for you—within reason. That includes calling off your wedding while you hide from the aftershocks.”

  “Thank you.”

  “However, I will do it only if you’re sure.” Paulina waited for Megan to look at her before continuing. “You remember my best friend from high school, Joanie?”

  Megan nodded. “She drove a blue Chevette and owned more tube tops than all the other people in Montana combined.”

  “That’s Joanie.” Paulina smiled at the memory. “A couple of years ago she flew out to London to visit us. She told me she was getting a divorce.”

  “Doesn’t she have a dozen kids?”

  “Five, but once you get past three it must feel like a dozen. Anyway, when she told me, she had this light in her eyes. She exuded this sense of calm, of relief.”

  “Good for her.”

  “Exactly. Good for her. It turned out to be the best decision for both Joanie and her husband—not to mention the kids. My point is, if calling off the wedding is going to bring you peace, I will absolutely take care of it for you.” Paulina tucked some hair that had fallen in front of Megan’s eyes behind her ear. “But you two have been together for—what? Ten years? What’s changed?”

  “Twelve.” Megan’s stomach was churning, her chin trembling. “But I’ve been on this path for so long, kicking away all the stones that trip me up—like how Tom lets his family run our lives and the way I’ve given up what I always wanted to do.”

  Megan thought back to the job in London she’d nearly taken five years ago. The one that would’ve brought her closer to her favorite aunt and uncle. Then she thought about the one Tom had taken in Missouri.

  “Paulina, he accepted a job in a different state without even telling me. I can’t believe it. Like I’m some accessory he can pack up, not a person who should get a say.” She blew out a breath. “I knew his family came with baggage—everyone’s family does. I just didn’t know it ran this deep. That he’d let what they want take priority over what I want…forever. Now I keep imagining the res
t of my life and it’s all dictated by John and Carol.”

  Paulina gingerly sat up and turned toward Megan. “Hold on. He unilaterally decided to uproot you two without talking to you first? That doesn’t sound like Tom.”

  “I know. It’s like his need to defer to his parents is getting worse.” Paulina rubbed Megan’s back as she leaned forward, into her fears. “I don’t want to spend my entire life feeling like I’m not good enough. Like I don’t get a vote. I want to commit myself to a partner, not a family of passive-aggressive tyrants.”

  “I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling this way.”

  “I want what you and Hamza have.” The words came out choked.

  Paulina laughed. “What Hamza and I have is great, yes. But do you really think our relationship hatched fully grown? Oh, honey. When we first moved in together, I freaked out. He freaked out. I blamed him for the struggles I had making friends and finding a job in London; he resented me for blaming him…it was a mess. But guess what—people are messy. Relationships are messy.”

  Megan had never looked at Paulina and Hamza as messy. Their relationship was so solid. “So what did you do? How did you make things better?”

  Paulina shrugged. “We started being honest with each other, with ourselves. We stopped defaulting to blame and went to therapy. Through all of it, we realized we loved each other so much, we were willing to be messy together.”

  “I had no idea.” Megan’s mind wandered to an interview she’d sat in on at GQ with famed actor Kenneth Birch. She’d always remembered what he’d said about fights, that couples have the same one over and over again. He should know. He had one of the longest marriages in the movie business. She wondered what Paulina and Hamza’s root fight was.

  “Oh yeah.” Paulina smiled gently. “This relationship of ours is amazing. We laugh a lot, we love each other more than anything else in the world, but you better believe we work at it. Some days it’s easy. Other days we have to choose each other, choose to be compassionate, to be patient.”

  Megan couldn’t explain to her aunt that she understood a relationship needed work, she just suspected she’d been working on it with the wrong person. Searching for a way to phrase the question she most needed to ask without giving away that she’d slept with Leo or that she was stuck in this loop, she settled on “How do I know what will make me happy, though? Because it’s become abundantly clear it isn’t Tom.”

  To Megan’s surprise, Paulina threw her head back and laughed. “Do you know a lot of Europeans think the American idea of happiness is ridiculous? Europeans see happiness as something fleeting, like frustration or fatigue—regular-person fatigue, not pregnant-lady fatigue. That shit’s real and it is inescapable.” Paulina must’ve registered the fear in Megan’s eyes, because she reached out and cupped Megan’s cheek in her hand. Just as she had dozens of times when she was talking Megan through a fight with Brianna or drama with Donna. “Hey. You know I love Tom. But you need to do what’s right for you. Follow that heart and that head of yours. They’re both pretty smart.”

  That was exactly what Megan needed. Her heart was being loud and clear right now.

  Hamza came in holding a tray of coffee and a bag that Megan prayed contained several one-thousand-calorie pastries.

  As they had breakfast in the room, looking out the window and reminiscing about summers spent on the docks trying to catch whatever fish they could, Megan pictured her life with Tom and held that life up against the promises Leo was making her. She thought about how being in bed with Leo all afternoon had made her feel. How he understood her anger at Tom and his family in a way she wasn’t sure Tom ever would.

  Her relationship with Tom had a lot of good, but it had also become so cumbersome, swollen with countless hurts and resentments. She just wasn’t sure she could carry it anymore.

  She sipped her coffee, half listening to Hamza tell a story about when Paulina had tried to teach him how to fish and he’d yelled apologies in advance to the fish every time he cast off. She smiled and laughed in all the right places, pretending a storm of fears and uncertainties and excitement and possibilities wasn’t raging inside her.

  As soon as she finished her breakfast, she kissed them both on the cheek and made her exit.

  It was time to listen to the thunder from that loud heart of hers.

  In the space between breakfast and Leo’s arrival, Megan showered, packed, and made peace with her decision. This was the right one. This was what the universe had been trying to tell her.

  She’d needed a push of this magnitude to find the courage to pursue things with Leo.

  For years, Megan had made concessions to be with Tom. She’d done it because she loved him. Being with him made sense. But little by little, each accommodation had chipped away at who Megan really was, at what she wanted. And now, with Leo, she had the chance to get it all back. To get all of herself back. To travel to distant places and take up filmmaking again. To be with someone who knew her inside and out and whose family might finally be the one she’d always dreamed of.

  It was as terrifying as it was thrilling, this new beginning.

  Having been through this day four times already, she knew the instant Leo would walk through the lobby doors, and she was waiting. The yearning, the lust, she felt from him when he laid eyes on her made her shiver.

  It didn’t matter who saw. She dropped her purse and ran to him, surprising him with the force of her embrace. It didn’t take long for him to wrap his arms around her and squeeze her back just as tightly.

  “Givens.” His breath tickled the back of her neck. “What…”

  She released him just enough so they could search each other’s faces. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here.” She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning with free-flowing delight. No need to scare him off. She would ease into this…after all, Leo had some catching up to do.

  “I’m happy to see you.” He let his hands slide down the length of her arms. “It’s been too long.”

  “Agreed. So let’s get out of here.”

  He let go of her and reached for his bag. “Yeah, we can go for a walk. Just let me check in and get rid of my luggage.”

  “No, Leo.” She got up on her tiptoes, and her lips grazed his earlobe as she said, “The wedding’s off. You and I are getting out of here.”

  There was a pause long enough for Megan to worry that something had changed in this incarnation of the day. Something might have shifted enough for Leo not to want to run away with her.

  And then his face broke into a grin. He grabbed her hand and said, “Anarchy reigns supreme, baby.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tom

  I’m sorry,” the sympathetic older woman working the airline kiosk told him. “No luck yet. This flight’s full too. You’re welcome to keep checking back.”

  “Thanks.” Tom, ticket in hand, wandered away. He hadn’t been able to purchase a seat on a New York flight and was trying his best to get on standby. Having never flown standby before, Tom wondered if it was always this difficult.

  Of course he’d woken up on the ferry next to Henry Winkler again. But as soon as they’d docked and he saw Megs wasn’t even there to meet him, Tom turned around and got right back on the ferry. In Seattle, he shuffled onto the first airport shuttle he saw.

  As far as he was concerned, today was about avoiding the island altogether and getting back to New York. That was where his life made sense. Time moved forward in New York. People were who you thought they were in New York. It wasn’t magical and serene; it was fast and crowded and exactly where he needed to be.

  However, the universe seemed to have other plans. Because the universe was an even bigger asshole than he’d thought.

  Tom bided his time, looking in every shop, wandering through Seattle-Tacoma International Airport’s food court. There was some sort of event going on; every corridor seemed to have a different singer performing. Tom took out his wallet and dropped bills in every hat, every
guitar case. Why not?

  When he became sluggish from hunger and the need for coffee, he decided to forgo the food court for a restaurant resembling a log cabin. The sign out front instructed him to seat himself, so he chose a stool at the bar, wondering if he could get his coffee spiked.

  Two seats down, a large man shifted. Tom looked over; the familiarity of the man’s posture struck him immediately. He was trying to place him when the man turned, raised his coffee mug in a kind of salute, and smiled.

  It was Kenneth Birch. Tom couldn’t believe it.

  “Top of the morning.” Kenneth’s gravelly voice carried the gravitas of his years in Hollywood, his collected wisdom. And maybe his millions of dollars too.

  “Morning.” Tom wasn’t quite sure how to play this, but the actor’s appearance didn’t seem coincidental. As someone who hadn’t believed in signs a week ago, he was sure desperate to believe in this guardian angel now.

  “Can I…” Tom wasn’t sure how to start.

  “What do you need? Autograph? Selfie?” Kenneth said selfie as if it were a foreign word he was trying out for the first time. Luckily, his demeanor was friendly. He didn’t seem bothered by Tom. Rather, he seemed to welcome the company. Tom scrambled to a closer seat.

  Unsure where to begin, he gave the actor a feeble “I’m a big fan.”

  “Thanks. Any particular movie? I can usually guess based on age and general appearance.”

  Blanking under pressure, Tom tried to think of a title as a pack of rowdy twenty-somethings walked past the restaurant, pointed at Kenneth, and yelled, “Duuuuuuude! It’s Beau from Money City Cha-Cha!”

  Good-naturedly, Kenneth waved a peace sign at the crew. When the ruckus subsided, Kenneth turned back to Tom. “You were saying something, weren’t you? Or you were about to?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to ask you…to talk to you about…” Tom took a breath, decided to get straight to the point. “You said something a few years ago that resonated with me.”