by Julia London
“You know what this reminds me of?” he heard a woman say behind him. “Sex and the City. They’re still running it on HBO.”
He strode out of their midst. “Michael!” Nina angrily shouted after him, but he kept walking.
It was enough to get Leah’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Michael marching down the lawn, and turned around, apparently resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to face him.
“Michael, I have to go,” she said extending her arm to keep him at a distance. “Just . . . just go back inside with Nina,” she said, fluttering her fingers in Nina’s direction. “She’s great. You’ll be very happy with her.”
“What did you mean when you said you weren’t shiny?” he demanded, ignoring her order for him to leave.
Leah’s mouth dropped open. Then closed tightly shut.
“What did you mean?” he demanded again, moving closer to her extended hand.
“I didn’t mean anything—”
He wasn’t letting her off that easy. He was going to hear it this time and no uncertainty or wishy-washiness from her was going to stop him. He needed to hear that she loved him before he could begin to think what to do. “Yes, you did. What did you mean?” he asked again, pushing her hand aside and moving and leaning forward, so that his face was directly before hers.
She recoiled slightly. “Shiny,” she repeated, waving one hand. “Bling-blingy.” When he didn’t bite, she anxiously ran a hand over her crown. “Just . . . shiny,” she said again, only softer.
Michael leaned even closer, locking in on her eyes, her mouth. “Shiny as in sweaty? Or shiny as in your full heart shining through?”
Leah gasped. “How did you know that?”
“I remember,” he said. “I remember it all. Don’t you know that by now?”
“Wait—what do you mean you remember?” Nina cried, having marched down after Michael. “Just how do you two know each other?” She grabbed Michael’s arm, pulled him back from Leah.
But Leah didn’t seem to notice Nina. Her gaze was locked on his, her eyes shining with regret and hope and something more. “I’m not shiny,” she said again, and pressed a fist into her abdomen. “That means I’m empty. I’m devoid of life and love and . . . and you.”
He knew exactly what she meant. It was the same feeling he’d been trying to fill up with a series of extreme sport outings over the last couple of months, looking for something, anything, to spark a fire in him. Nothing had worked. He went to sleep with Leah on his mind, woke up with her there, and filled most of the hours in between thinking of her, wondering what she was doing, who she was with, if she ever thought of him. If she hated him.
He’d endlessly debated calling her, alternating between needing her and not wanting to hear anything in her voice that even remotely sounded like rejection.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Nina cried furiously, wedging herself partially between Michael and Leah, glaring at Leah. “What part of my boyfriend did you not understand?”
“So what are you saying?” Michael asked over Nina’s head, ignoring her, too.
“That I love you,” Leah said firmly, and Michael felt his heart expand tenfold. “I always have. And I can’t stop.”
“This is unbelievable!” Nina shrieked.
“I know the feeling,” Michael said, stepping around Nina. “I’m not shiny, either, Leah. I’m dull as a lump of lead without you.”
“See, people? This is what I mean when I say acting,” Ted announced to the growing group of onlookers, who had, apparently, walked down the lawn to hear the scene being played out. “You’ve got to put some ummph into it.”
“Are they acting?” Nina asked Ted in a little-girl voice. “Is this a scene?”
The kid pulled up with a white Thunderbird, and Leah looked at it, then at Michael.
“Dunno,” Ted said cheerfully. “If it’s not, it oughta be.”
“Leah, don’t go,” Michael said, and turned toward Nina. He regretted the audience, but he wasn’t letting Leah get away. “Nina . . .”
“Oh no,” she said, instantly stepping backward and colliding with Brad, who’d shown up to see what was going on. “You are not going to blow me off in front of all these people!” she hissed at him.
“I’m not blowing you off, sweetheart. But I want to take you home. We need to talk.”
“I’m not leaving here,” she cried, stepping back again, into Brad’s skinny chest. “You can go fuck yourself, Michael Raney!”
Michael looked at Brad. “Do me a favor, bro,” he said, digging into his pants pocket for the token that would get his car from the valet. “Make sure Nina gets home okay, will you?”
Brad lit up like a Christmas tree. “Dude! Are you serious?”
“I’m very serious.” He looked at Nina again. “Unless you want to come with me now, Nina.”
“Get away from me you bastard!”
Brad instantly put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s okay, kid. Let him go. He is a bastard,” Brad said with a wink for Michael.
Michael heard the car door open and close and jerked around. Leah was inside her car, about to drive away. “Leah!” he shouted, and took two deep strides toward Nina, grabbed her face between his hands. “You deserve to hate me all my days for this, Nina. But then again, maybe someday you will do something totally outrageous for love, and you will understand.” He kissed her forehead and then ran for Leah’s car as she started to pull away from the curb.
When Leah saw his hand on the door, she stopped, watched with wide eyes as he vaulted himself inside. “Drive,” he said breathlessly.
“What—”
“Just drive,” he said again, and glanced back at Brad standing next to Nina, whose arms were flailing as she said something to Ted. And there was a host of other people around watching Nina, then Leah’s car as she put it in drive and sped away.
They drove in silence for the first few minutes, Leah winding through the streets like she knew where she was going. That was almost the worst thing he’d ever done, Michael decided. The only thing worse was leaving Leah five years ago. But he’d felt a moment of panic, that sick feeling he would never have the chance again if he didn’t seize it then and there.
They came upon a park entrance, and Leah screeched to a halt, threw her hands over her face, dropped her head against the steering wheel, and her shoulders began to shake.
The waterworks. Great. He’d made her cry the last two times he’d seen her. And he still wasn’t even sure what he was doing. But then Leah suddenly lifted her face and turned toward him.
Only Leah wasn’t crying. Leah was laughing.
She was laughing so that tears were running down her cheeks. “Ohmigod,” she squealed, pressing a hand to her belly. “Could we possibly have made a more dramatic exit, do you think?”
Michael sighed with relief and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
She squealed again, pressed both hands to her belly, and her head fell against the headrest. Through her laughter she said, “That . . . was the . . . most . . . unbelievable . . . scene ever!”
It was pretty spectacular.
She stopped laughing and slanted him a look as she tried to catch her breath. “How long have you been dating Nina?”
“It was our second date.”
Leah gasped and looked at him, her crystal-blue eyes shining, and then howled again. When the laughter had finally subsided, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled at him. “God, I love you Michael, I do. I don’t ever want to be without you. I don’t care how many other women there were, or how many Juan Carlos’s, I don’t care. I just want to be with you. I want to be shiny again.”
That admission filled Michael with lightness of being and a connection that sank its tentacles deep into his soul and heart. Leah would always be his. He would always have somewhere and someone to belong to.
“I love you, too, baby. That’s all I’ve wanted, is to hear you say y
ou love me, too.”
She reached for him at the same moment he reached for her, their mouths seeking each other, their hands groping for each other.
Until Leah began to laugh into his mouth again. She pulled away and grinned up at him. “I won’t be able to show my face on the set again. Did you hear Ted point out the ummph in our acting skills?” she asked, and they both burst into laughter.
Chapter Thirty-One
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Wedding Recap
From: Leah Kleinschmidt
To: Lucy Frederick
Time: 10:04 am
No, I didn’t hear anyone talking about how bad the veal was, Lucy. I think that is all in your head. The veal was fine. Everything was beautiful. You were beautiful. Even the stupid red dresses, which I so will NOT wear again, were beautiful. I think you can finally put this obsession with your wedding behind you and go on to something else, like what you’re going to name your first kid.
P.S. I TOLD YOU Michael was a great guy! You were practically drooling all over your wedding dress.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wedding Recap
From: Lucy Frederick
To: Leah Kleinschmidt
Time: 1:12 pm
I know the red dresses were beautiful. That’s what I’ve been telling you for like two years, but you never listen. And I’m sorry, but I think the veal was a little gamey. I am writing my wedding coordinator, because I don’t think she should use that caterer again. That was a lot of money to spend on gamey veal. We’ve got our pictures back from Fiji, BTW. I have attached several.
Yeah, yeah, okay, Michael was great. He really was. I am glad I finally got a chance to spend a little time with him, because I would hate to show up to your wedding and not like the groom. And yes, I would to be happy to be your matron of honor! Gawd, Leah, I can’t believe you are actually getting married! Yiiiippppeeeee!
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wedding Recap
From: Leah Kleinschmidt
To: Lucy Frederick
Time: 10:23 am
I know, I can’t believe it either! I have a new friend here who is going to coordinate it (she did the big Olivia Dagwood and Vincent Vittorio wedding that fell through— remember, the one where they got stuck in the mountains and it was all over the news?). Anyway, Marnie said I need to pick out my colors so we can start working on a theme. So, I have attached some colors and dresses I sort of like for the bridesmaids. Since you like red so much, what do you think of rose? Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really like and don’t like.
P.S. I’m so excited!!!!!
Subject: Re: Anniversary Party
From: Michael
To: Jack
Eli
Coop
Time: 2:13 pm
Hey guys, thanks for the info on a really ridiculous plan for an anniversary party on a private island to include volcano and waterfall hiking. Yeah, right. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see a bunch of New York real-estate moguls hiking their fat asses up a waterfall or an active volcano. What I see is a lot of drinking and screwing around, but hey, that’s an extreme sport in and of itself. Unfortunately, I will not be able to join in on the planning for this treat, because I will be on my honeymoon in Paris. Fortunately, as I did not draw the short straw when we decided who would take the lead on this thing, I feel perfectly comfortable showing up just in time for happy hour when the gig begins. And, Jack, I can’t tell you how it warms my heart to know that you will be leading this one. Paybacks are a bitch, dude. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.
The End
Want more? Look for Wedding Survivor (about Eli) and American Diva (about Jack). Unfortunately, there is not a separate book about Cooper at this time. You can write me at [email protected] if you’d like to put in your vote for a book about Cooper.
You may also enjoy a series I wrote about the Lear Sisters (Material Girl, Beauty Queen, and Miss Fortune), about three sisters who each try and find themselves and their footing when their father delivers some bad news to each of them.
Last but not least, I have most recently written the Cedar Springs Trilogy (Summer of Two Wishes, One Season of Sunshine, and A Light at Winter’s End), about the happenings and love stories in a small town in Texas. These books are currently available as digital, audio, and paper books wherever books are sold.
Please enjoy the excerpts from Wedding Survivor and American Diva that follow:
WEDDING SURVIVOR
MARNIE was fully aware of the bad habit she had of talking to fill the space around her, especially when she was nervous. But she really didn’t know how to stop, especially not when she was this nervous. She was beginning to think that maybe she’d jumped a little too hastily into what was really a whack job.
That wasn’t so far-fetched, seeing as how she’d found out about the job to begin with by eavesdropping on a hushed conversation at a wedding trade show. While Marnie was not in the habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations (well . . . unless it was something really juicy), she’d been a little desperate. She needed this job in a bad way—if she had to live with Mom and Dad another month, she’d hurl herself into the ocean and let herself be washed out to sea. And besides, a certified wedding planner without an actual solo wedding under her belt couldn’t afford to be too choosy.
Oh, who was she kidding?
The very thought of doing Vincent Vittorio and Olivia Dagwood’s wedding sent chills up her spine. They were the two biggest stars in the universe and Marnie couldn’t wait to meet them—she could imagine her and Olivia becoming best friends as they planned everything, and then, when Marnie had pulled off the wedding of the century without a hitch, Olivia would hook her up with some of her A-list stud friends and refer tons of fabulous clients to her so that Marnie could become the wedding planner to the stars.
Hey, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And that dream alone prompted her to put on the red hat and purchase the fruit, per the bizarre instructions of Thrillseekers Anonymous.
Then the Lincoln had appeared.
When she’d seen Eli leaning against the Lincoln in a black Astros hat, with dark glasses resting on a straight nose, and a sexy shadow of a beard dusting a strong chin and some killer lips, not to mention the long, lean look of him in general, Marnie had been pleasantly surprised. Bonus! The job had a really good-looking guy involved.
Unfortunately, good-looking did not mean particularly friendly. He reminded her of a cowboy in one of the old westerns, the strong silent type. A Clint Eastwood with steely eyes—well, she presumed there were steely eyes behind those shades.
And what was all that about an audition?
The Lincoln turned, and Marnie caught a glimpse of towering iron fences through the front window that could only be surrounding huge monolithic houses, and she felt a tingle of excitement. Wedding planner to the stars, here she was!
Actually, telling Clint Eastwood that she’d wanted to pursue a career in wedding planning was a big fat lie. When the dot-com she’d been working for went belly up, she’d tried to get another job in the tech industry, along with everyone else and all their mothers—it felt like hundreds were competing for the same few openings.
Weeks went by without a nibble, and her unemployment status at last led to her greatest humiliation yet—having to move home with Mom and Dad. But she hadn’t had a choice—she couldn’t pay her rent and she couldn’t pay her credit card bills, which were, she was embarrassed to note, pretty damn high. Honestly, she’d not realized how large she’d been living on her humongous dot-com salary before the company tanked.
So after about three weeks with Mom and Dad, when Marnie was contemplating living under a bridge on the Santa Monica Freeway, she’d seen the ad for the wed
ding planner certification class.
Wedding planner. The term had sort of circled around and tickled her thoughts for a while. It actually sounded fun. Who didn’t like a wedding?
So she’d taken the class. At the very least, it got her out of the house and away from the TV, and Mom and Dad, and Mom’s book club. And though she’d never really envisioned herself a wedding planner, once she got into it, she was sucked in by all the beautiful white dresses and lovely cakes and flowers and fancy china—not to mention all the fabulous high-heeled shoes.
And she suppressed a shudder of delight just thinking about the sparkly wedding shoes Olivia Dagwood would wear on her third walk down the aisle. Or was it her fourth? She’d have to check E! Online.
The Lincoln turned again, and she had the sensation they were traveling up and around. Then the car slowed and made a sharp left. Eli lowered his window. They were at a security box. He punched in a code, then raised the window as the driver eased the car forward, through the gate, coasting down a hill and stopping in a small parking lot.
Eli lowered the back windows; the driver stopped the Lincoln and got out. “Wait here,” he said to Marnie as the driver opened his door. “I’ll be back for you in a minute or two.”
“Where are we?” Marnie asked.
He got out, stuck his head back inside, and said, with a sexy, lopsided grin, “We’re here,” and shut the door.
“Thanks for the info, Chuckles,” Marnie muttered as he walked in front of the Lincoln in a pair of faded Levi’s— which looked damn good on his butt—and disappeared into what looked like a garden path or something.
Marnie sighed, looked down at her hat, her melon, and the straw bag full of giant oranges, then leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and mentally reviewed her best selling points.