He winks at her. “Sending a Delfina’s delivery last night went a long way to show them your thanks. We’ve been surviving on pizza and Chinese takeout, and they were thrilled to have a decent meal.”
That’s my girl. A little bribery goes a long way.
Shelly dips her cherry into her cosmo. “I told you my staff would have helped you. If you weren’t such a control freak and delegated, it would have taken a fraction of the time.”
“You call it being a control freak, I say it’s doing my job. ‘Give up control, give up quality,’ that’s what my grandfather used to say. I live by it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shelly waves away his words. “By the way, those invites? Should come with a warning: waterproof mascara required for viewing. I was sobbing!”
“Charlie did a great job sifting through our millions of photos,” Ari replies. “The ones she chose are just perfect.”
Shelly slathers some aioli onto her slider. “I especially love the one of you two when you were little. You’re both covered in paint or something and have clumps of each other’s hair in your hands. You look like you want to kill each other. It’s so cute and so you two. And what was that song? It was perfect.”
“When I Said I Do, by Clint Black,” I reply.
“An oldie but goodie,” Bryan says.
“I was just sobbing by the end. Wait till that thing ends up on YouTube. It’s going to go viral.”
Ari smacks Bryan’s arm—hard from the sound of it. “I thought you said the file will be protected.”
He shields himself from further assault. “It is, but people are crafty. Someone, somewhere, will figure out how to share it. It’s the world we live in, honey. You know that better than most.”
She scowls. “We should have just done the Evite.”
I kiss her cheek. “I know it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. Who cares if the whole world sees how cute we are?”
“I guess,” Ari mutters. “Did you make sure to list the charities people can donate to in lieu of presents?”
“Of course I did. I am a professional, you know.” The waitress delivers Bryan’s drink. “Thank you, love. Please don’t be a stranger.” He pulls his pad from his bag. “Let’s get work out of the way so I can have a few more of those.”
“Has my mom been in touch with you?” I ask. Mom flew to Dillon yesterday to get things moving.
“Katie and I are texting back and forth nonstop! I talk to her more than my boyfriend these days. I’m telling you, if I ever become curious about the opposite gender, Katie’s on the top of my list.”
I gape at him. “Dude, that’s my mother.”
“I know,” he replies with this smitten look in his eye that makes me want to puke. “But that Texas twang she has is so charming. Plus, she’s organized and thorough. When she says she’s going to do something, she does it. I can actually rely on her, and I can count on my hand the number of people I can say that about. If she were a man…”
I gag. “Please stop.”
Ari snickers. “Bryan, I think we need to work on your definition of sexy.”
He takes a sip of his martini. “Now your father—that man was sexy.”
I nudge Ari. “Not so funny now, is it?”
“This conversation has taken a turn for the weird. Can we get back to the wedding and away from our parents?” Ari asks.
Shelly looks at her watch. “Actually, can I go first? I have another meeting after this. Chase, you, your father, and Spencer have to be at Armani tomorrow for your fittings. Do not be late. We’re already under the gun.”
“We’re all set. Ari and I are staying at her place in the city tonight, so everyone will meet there for breakfast, then we’re doing the fitting, then we’ve got a tee-time at Olympic. Bryan, you’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replies. “Just don’t say anything to your dad about my crush on his wife. That might make things a little awkward.”
“Oh we’re long past ‘a little awkward’,” Ari chimes in.
Clearly Bryan is trying to see how many times I can gag before I actually throw up. “One more comment like that, and you’re out of the foursome.”
Bryan takes a sip of his martini then zips his lip.
“Do we have to go with Armani?” Ari asks. “I saw a Tom Ford suit earlier that I think would be perfect.”
Shelly shakes her head. “It has to be Armani—part of the new Code contract. But speaking of your dress, I got your email that you’ve changed your mind about the Chanel dress. I’m sorry, honey, but that’s just not going to work. You have a contract with them and a commitment to Vogue. I don’t see how we’re going to get out of it.”
Ari takes a sip of her water. “Oh, I took care of that. As soon as I explained to Karl that the wedding is now at a ranch, the thought of his dress ‘running through a field of kuh dung’ made him break out in hives, and he thanked me for saving ‘a dress of that prestige and pedigree’ from such an atrocity. As far as Vogue goes, I never promised to give them actual pictures from the wedding. If we put out an official release, we can say I had two dresses for the wedding. We just don’t have to mention I’m only wearing one of them.”
Shelly downs the rest of her drink. “Sounds good to me. I’ll call around tomorrow and make sure everyone’s happy, but I think you’re good to go.” She stands then hooks her bag on her arm. “I’m off. Good luck with the rest of the plans.” She points at me before she leaves the table. “Don’t be late tomorrow. There may be a photographer there, so don’t dress like a bum either.”
I hold up the Boy Scout salute. “I promise. If I have holes in my jeans, they’ll be ones I overpaid to be there, not the ones from being old and crappy.”
She gives me a sardonic smile. “Good night all.”
“That reminds me,” Bryan says to Ari. “You need to try your dress on again pronto.”
“I did, and I’ve got an appointment with Bubbe to have it altered in a few days.”
“Okay, good. Now, what else do we have to talk about?” He glances at his iPad. “Flowers have been ordered. Invitations are on their way out. As soon as we get responses back, I’ll firm up all catering menus and the glamping company will head down to set up the tents. People only have five days to RSVP, so things will come together very quickly. Katie has secured serving staff for the wedding and rehearsal dinner. Tomorrow she’s flying to Austin to hear a few bands, some real up-and-comers in the country scene. Pickings are slim, but I have faith she will find someone perfect.”
“Mom has a good ear,” I tell him. “I completely trust her.”
“Oh, so do I,” he gushes.
Ari wrinkles her nose. “Chase and I have never been able to agree on country music. He loves it, and I can barely tolerate it. But under the circumstances, I guess I have no choice but to accept a country band.”
Bryan stares down his nose at her. “You will, and you’ll like it, missy! You give me three weeks to pull a wedding together—one at a Texas ranch nonetheless—so you’d better be happy with a good country band. You could just as easily get the school marching band with how little time you’ve given me.”
“I’d rather the marching band,” she mutters.
Bryan’s eyebrows shoot up. “What was that, young lady?”
Damn, he’s got the angry dad voice down pat.
Ari twirls her finger in mock celebration. “Yay, country.”
Bryan clears his throat. “Moving on.”
He rattles off a million details from plates and napkins to golf carts shuttling people from the tent area to the wedding. He has thought of everything, and it seems he and my mother have it all under control. But after going through the rest of his lengthy list, Bryan’s eyes begin to droop.
“Let’s call it a night,” Ari says.
Bryan sits up straighter and blinks a few million times, clearly trying to wake himself up. “No, we still need to discuss music during the ceremony. And we need to know what your first d
ance is going to be.”
I motion to the server to bring me the check. “Email us. You need to get some sleep.”
The rain’s stopped by the time we leave, so after we pour Bryan into a cab, Ari and I decide to walk back to her condo instead of taking a cab. The streets are busy though, and we’re stopped a bunch times for pictures and autographs.
One guy was on his way home from work after a long day and missing his kid’s birthday, so to help get him out of the dog house, we FaceTime his son. Why the five-year-old is still up at eleven at night is beyond me, but Ari and I recite Goodnight Moon, which we now know by heart thanks to Calder. The kid gets so excited he pees his pants and the poor mom has to give him a bath, but Dad went from zero to hero.
None of the fans tonight are demanding or display a sense of entitlement that we owe them our time. They seem to respect the fact that they’re interrupting a romantic stroll through the city. Each person seems genuinely appreciative that we’re willing to stop and chat for a minute, reminding me that all of the hits, all of the media, all of the stress, is worth it.
“Feel good not to be a leper any longer?” Ari asks when we’re a block away from the condo. “The people of this town really love you.”
I put my arm around her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around my waist as we walk. “As long as you love me, that’s all I need.”
When we get back to Ari’s condo, she goes through the huge stack of mail at the door. “Jesus, I have to hire a new manager. I thought everything was being forwarded to Daddy’s, but obviously not.”
I plop on the sofa then turn on SportsCenter. “Anything overdue?”
“No, bills all go to Colin, but”—she holds up the paper she’s reading—“here’s a letter from the people who own the condo next door. They offered to buy my unit so they could knock down the walls and make theirs bigger. It’s dated in September. This was a great offer. I would have jumped at it.” Dropping the mail on the kitchen counter, she opens the fridge then pulls out a water. She holds up a bottle. “Want one?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
She tosses the bottle across the room, and it lands right in my hands. As I take a sip, I look around the condo and am hit with so many great memories. “You’d really sell this place?”
She shrugs. “We’re real estate heavy right now, and we’re not doing anything productive with any of it. We can’t just keep sitting on it.” Tucking the water bottle under her arm, she picks up the stack of mail then joins me on the sofa. “Between your place, Daddy’s place, the ranch in Texas and here, plus we’re going to go house hunting, we’re losing money by letting everything sit around collecting dust. We either need to rent them or sell them.”
“Renting my place is a good idea. But it creeps me out thinking about someone else living here.”
She sighs as she opens a Christmas card from the White House. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little jealous. She has way cooler contacts than I do.
“I feel the same way about Daddy’s house. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it when we move out. Thinking about someone else calling it home makes me queasy.”
“Do you really want to move? What Spencer and Charlie have been saying makes sense. With twins coming, having Mom and Pop close by might be a good idea. If neither of us really wants to hire a nanny, having help within walking distance seems like a stupid thing to throw away.”
She scrunches her face, which tells me she’s been thinking about this but hasn’t known how to bring it up. “I love the house. I think it’s the perfect place to grow up, and I would love for our kids to have that. But it feels like Daddy’s house, and wherever we live, I want it to feel like ours. I don’t want to feel like a guest.”
I totally get what she’s saying. Sometimes when I wake up, the first thought that crosses my mind is, “Fuck, if Aiden catches me in here, I’m a dead man.” Dumb, I know. He’s been dead for two years now, and before he died, he shoved Ari and me together as hard as he could. But my whole life, it’s been Aiden’s house, and it’s hard to shake that. I wouldn’t say I feel like a guest. I’m not afraid to drink milk from the carton, walk around naked, or put my shoes on the coffee table, but it doesn’t feel like mine either.
“We could always renovate and make it ours,” I say. “Everything in there is Aiden’s. Maybe if we move it out and move some of our stuff in, we’ll feel differently. I know that kind of purge might be just as hard as selling it, but it’s a thought. We’d have to empty it to sell it anyway.”
“Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that.” Ari’s quiet as she opens more mail. A Christmas card from Michael Jordan. An invite to Blue Ivy’s birthday party.
I hold up one of the cards. “Adele sent you concert tickets?”
She taps an envelope on her chin as she reads something from Babolat. “Wasn’t that sweet?” She sounds distracted. “I have to send them back though. The concert is too close to when the babies are due.”
I kiss her. “I hit the jackpot with you.”
She smirks. “And don’t you forget it.” She puts down the letter. “You’d really be okay staying at Daddy’s?”
“Yeah. To be honest, the idea of getting married, moving, and getting ready for twins sounds a little masochistic.” I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “And as much as I love you, agreeing on things isn’t really our strong suit. We’re better than we’ve ever been, but we’re still us. Settling on a house could get… ugly.”
She chuckles. “Do you remember when we were looking for this place? I almost shoved you off the balcony of the one penthouse we looked at.”
I asked the real estate agent if he thought the ceiling in the living room was high enough for a stripper pole. I’m amazed I walked out of there alive. Granted, I was eighteen and stupid. I’d never say anything like that now. Think it? Maybe. But say it? Nah, I’ve learned better. But even if I keep all my stupid questions in my head, we’re still us. I’ll want hardwood and she’ll want marble, and it’ll turn into World War III.
“Since I’d like to live to see the birth of my children, how about we table house shopping for a bit? We don’t need the added pressure,” I say.
“Okay.” She pinches the soft skin that covers my triceps.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“For thinking about how to convince me to put a pole in the bedroom!”
Damn it! She knows me too well!
Chapter Forty-Three
Arianna
Chase and the boys are set—suits, shoes, the whole nine. Charlie and I haven’t even started. We have a little over two weeks to find a dress for Charlie and get it altered—actually, one week if we take into account when we’re leaving for Dillon. Pat agreed to take Calder so Charlie and I can power shop. We hit every store we can think of, from couture designers to off-the-rack bridal shops, and Charlie doesn’t even find a single “maybe.” Not even an, “I’ll think about it.”
I’ve given her free rein with color, style, designer, length. Whatever she wants will be fine with me. But the problem is, she hates everything. The only dresses that catch her eye are fitted or tight through the middle and thus a little uncomfortable. She doesn’t look pregnant—I can’t even see a bump—but she feels bloated and swollen. It’s the worst day to go shopping. I pull out anything flowy or with an empire waist, and she won’t even try it on.
The only time she’s happy all day is when we stop for cupcakes. Twice. I don’t know how she does it. The thought of food still makes me nauseated.
After shopping all morning, we give up and head to Bubbe’s for my fitting. Since it’s an unseasonably warm day, we decide to park in Pat’s spot at AT&T then walk down Thirty to Folsom. Charlie and I are debating flying to LA to look for dresses when my phone rings. I fish my phone out of my purse and see on the caller ID that it’s Alice, Jeb’s daughter.
Charlie looks over my shoulder at my phone. “Oh, how is she doing?”
“I’m about to find out,” I reply as I hit T
alk. “Hi, Alice, how are you? I’ve been meaning to call, but things have been a little crazy.”
“Don’t think twice about it,” she replies. “I’ve been such a wreck, like a complete basket case. I probably wouldn’t have answered anyway. But look, the reason I’m calling is I just got your invitation.”
I point at the next building and mouth to Charlie that we’re almost there. “Oh, good! I hope you can come.”
“You have to call off the wedding.”
A truck and a bus drive down the street, making it hard to hear. I drape my dress over my arm so I can cover my exposed ear to hear her better. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I’m downtown and the traffic’s really noisy.”
Charlie takes my dress, and I mouth, “Thank you.”
“I said you have to call off your wedding.”
That’s what I thought I heard, but I assumed I had to have been wrong. “Alice… I don’t understand.”
“It’s complicated, but you have to trust me. You cannot marry Chase.”
Charlie knits her brow. “What? What’s going on?”
I hold up a finger to Charlie. “What’s going on, Alice?”
“I know I’m not even explaining. My brain is just so frazzled right now, I can barely think straight. We need to do this in person. Could you meet me at Levi, like, now? I know I sound like a crazy person, but I swear it will all make sense. Please?”
The sun beats down, and heat radiates from the brick building I’m leaning against. I wipe away a bead of sweat with the back of my hand as I try to sort out what’s going on. She wants me to come over so she can talk me out of marrying Chase? Is she insane? Well, she just lost her entire family, so yeah, maybe she is. I certainly took the slow boat to the isle of insanity after Daddy died.
As much as I want to blow her off, I can’t. I owe it to Jeb to be there for her. I glance at my watch. “Sure. I can swing by around three.”
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 38