by Josie Brown
The Wedding
Nina knew she should have been ecstatically happy that Nathan so desperately wanted her back, but she wasn’t.
She knew, too, that she’d have to make it clear to him, up front, that there was so much still standing between them. Yep, a hell of a lot.
And yet there was no way she could say any of that in front of Jake. It would break his heart.
He hadn’t liked it when Daddy “moved away.” And when Daddy saved him from Balloon Lips and Mommy smacked that mean old witch—well, he just knew that Daddy would come home again with them…
Right?
Her little boy put it to Nina just like that, while Nathan and the whole world looked on. So, what could she do? She smiled and started on some patented noncommittal mommyspeak, something to the effect of “Well, we’ll just have to see…” or “Let’s talk about that when we get home…” when Nathan pulled her close to his side, looked her in the eye, and asked flat-out:
“Nina, please, will you marry me again?”
She could have killed him for that.
How dare Nathan do such a thing? And right there in front of Jake, in front of everyone!
Oh no. Had Sam seen it, too?
She looked around, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Not only that, but she could barely hear herself think, what with Jake yelling, “Say yes! Say yes!” In no time at all, the crowd around them had picked up the maddening chant. It was like some sort of crazy dream! She couldn’t help but smile at the audacity of the whole event…
Then she saw Sam. And yes, from the look on his face, he had seen the whole thing.
She knew that was why he turned and walked away.
Where was he going? And why doesn’t he want to take me with him?
She tried to call out his name, but he certainly couldn’t hear her over the mob’s chatter, and she was helpless to follow, what with it blocking her way. She closed her eyes in anger.
Nathan, on the other hand, just smiled. So that jerk, Sam, is pissed. What of it? As far as Nathan was concerned, good riddance. He wanted his family back. He wanted his life back! And he’d do anything to get it.
Even if it meant putting Nina on the spot.
Life & Style predicted an elopement.
Us Weekly claimed that Nina had cried when Nathan had gotten down on his knees to propose.
By Jove!, a British magazine, offered the biggest fee for an exclusive on the wedding.
That was the first thing the Realtor mentioned as she showed them the cute little Outpost Estates bungalow, toward the top of Mulholland, which afforded it to-die-for views of downtown Los Angeles.
“This large, flat lawn really sells this place, doesn’t it? And it’s just perfect for a garden wedding! You could have it, right there out by the pool!” Having given her pitch, the Realtor walked into the kitchen to give them a few moments alone together while she checked her voice mail.
“What wedding?” Nina hissed at Nathan. “There isn’t going to be a wedding! We’re getting divorced, not married! Remember? You need to tell that to your publicist and your new agent, so that they quit spreading these lies.”
These awful lies that have Sam so pissed off at me that he refuses to take my call, she wanted to add, but she didn’t. Bringing up Sam would only make Nathan more stubborn about this nutty marriage idea of his.
Not that he was going to change his mind anytime soon, in any regard.
“Listen, Nina, can’t you just forgive me? I admit I’ve been a total ass these past few months. But now I want to make it up to you. Please, honey, I’ll do anything to get you back! And this is just the start, believe me!”
He opened his arms toward the house. “Nina, just look around. Isn’t this what we’d always dreamed of? A house like this, for the three of us? Just look at that backyard! Wouldn’t Jake have a blast back there?”
“When? Before or after the so-called wedding ceremony?” she said sarcastically. She glanced out into the yard and sighed. Just put a climbing gym and a swing set out there, and it would be pure heaven for a little boy, no doubt about that.
No, any doubts she had were about Nathan.
“Tell me the truth, Nathan: Why, all of a sudden, do you want me back?”
“Because I still love you, dammit!” He walked over to her and took her hand. She tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t let go. “And you love me, too! Go ahead, tell me you don’t and—and I’ll leave you alone.”
Did she love him?
She hesitated to answer because, in truth, she didn’t know what to say. Yes, of course she still had feelings for him. Feelings that were deep but also bittersweet for what once was…
Not for what might still be.
But she could honestly say, once and for all, that she was no longer in love with him.
He’d lost her.
His eyes teared up at the realization. “It’s Sam, isn’t it?” He waited for her to answer.
Yes, she loved Sam instead. That she now knew with all her heart. But if Sam’s silence over the past week was any indication, then he obviously didn’t feel the same way about her.
But Nathan did.
Nathan, whom she had loved for the past six years of her life, as the two of them had struggled to survive while they followed the dream they shared.
Nathan, whose wit and charm and boyish good looks had set her heart on fire from the very first moment she’d seen him onstage.
Nathan, the father of her child, who would do anything he could for them.
Nathan, who’d had a fall from grace, but was now asking her forgiveness.
Now it was up to her: Could she forgive him for having broken her heart, so that the three of them could live happily together again?
What other choice did she have?
She turned back to look at the garden, a riot of English lavender, Mexican peonies, and bougainvillea.
“Okay, Nathan, we’ll try again.”
He smothered her in a kiss. “Yes! Awesome! Gee, wait until I get Riley on the phone and tell him that the wedding’s a go!”
Albertha Hubert, the wedding planner Fiona found for them, had the kind of people skills Nina assumed would have made her a rising star in the Gestapo.
In Nina’s opinion, the woman thrived on telling her how off base she was on her notions of what the recommitment ceremony (Nina hated calling it a marriage since, technically, their marriage had not been legally ended) should take place; that is, if they were to (as Albertha put it) “capitalize on this very unique public opportunity.”
“That’s just the problem,” Nina groused. “This ceremony should be simple and totally private.”
Albertha laughed in her face, then ran down “the criteria in which the wedding will achieve ultimate media impact.” These included:
—Minimally, a six-carat (preferably more like a ten-carat) engagement ring.
—Wedding bands in white gold, created by Neil Lane, from Nathan’s “original design.”
—A champagne-hued Vera Wang couture gown, adorned with borrowed jewelry from either Harry Winston, Neil Lane, Tiffany, or Fred Leighton.
—At least 250 guests, all of whom should be chosen from the A-list. (“Drop family if you need more space,” sniffed Albertha.)
—A-list Billboard-worthy entertainment. (“Preferably performers who know you personally. What, you don’t know any? Humph! Well, let me snoop around to see who’s out of rehab and would love the publicity…”)
—A dress theme for the guests, floating candles in the pool, live parrots in cages, doves released after the “I do’s,” and fireworks during the evening reception.
—A sit-down banquet requiring over two hundred attendants serving a meal made up of the bride and groom’s favorite foods—as well as some exotic curry dish, and the requisite caviar and lobster.
—Rose champagne by Laurent Perrier.
—And an exotic honeymoon getaway, perhaps the Seychelles Islands, or maybe Jaipur, India. (“I’ll get back wi
th you on your honeymoon schedule,” Albertha promised.)
Nina told her not to bother because from all she’d heard so far, the only way this reunion was going to happen was if they eloped to Vegas again. So there.
Albertha literally threw a hissy fit. “Excuse me? Get real! You’re marrying a star! Or have you forgotten that?” She sniffed. “Look, if you’re worried about the cost, don’t sweat it. Fiona’s already negotiating with the tabloids, so it’s a free ride. And she told me just this morning that Riley got a nibble from the E! Network to televise it live, perhaps even use it as a pilot for a reality series.” She smiled cruelly. “Don’t blow it, sweetheart, like you did the first time he asked you. Let’s learn from our mistakes, shall we?”
As a consolation, Albertha told Nina that she might allow her to choose the flowers for her own bouquet.
Nina told her to go to hell.
That was when Nathan suggested that they get the input of some cooler heads. He immediately put in a call to Fiona, and Riley, too.
“Why Riley?” Nina asked. Knowing what he’d done to Sam, she could barely stomach being in the same room with the man.
“He’s got a knack for this kind of froufrou stuff,” Nathan replied. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was, you know…”
“No, I don’t. What are you trying to say?” Of course, Nina knew that Nathan was fretting over the notion that Riley was gay. Still, egging him on to confront his own prejudice gave her some degree of payback pleasure.
And lately she certainly hadn’t had enough of that.
“Oh…nothing.” Nathan shrugged it off. That was to be expected. If this event Nathan was planning had proved anything, it was that he thrived on denial.
The vote went the way Nina suspected it would: three to one—her—in favor of a media circus.
She told Albertha to order gallons of champagne. She planned on downing a lot of it on her own.
Every chance he got, Nathan monitored Nina’s cell phone messages just in case Sam came to his senses and tried to contact her. It was Nathan’s intention to intercept that call, if and when it ever came.
When Sam had the misfortune to call while Nina was bathing Jake before bedtime, Nathan got his chance.
That was why she never got to hear Sam tell her what a fool he had been for walking out without first hearing from her, eye to eye, that she preferred to work things out with Nathan as opposed to starting fresh with Sam. She also never got to listen to him ask her to reconsider that stance, because he knew he would make her happier than Nathan ever could. She also missed hearing him choke up as he asked her to “meet with me once more, no strings attached, I swear! I just want to say good-bye to you in person.”
Yeah, right. I know what’s best for Nina and it’s not you, asshole, it’s me! The last thing I want is for you to rock my boat, so get lost, guy. Besides, if you had been a better agent, none of this would have happened in the first place!
If hanging around Kat had taught Nathan anything, it was that your agent (or better yet, your former agent) always made a great fall guy.
They’d been back together only a week, and already Nina’s jealousy was driving them both crazy.
The affair’s ghostly presence could still be felt by both of them—particularly when they went out together to industry events. Just the other night, at some celebrity “Bowl for the Cure” (one of the many publicity-worthy functions Fiona had Nathan attending to capitalize on his recent notoriety), Nina had watched him like a hawk, ready to pounce whenever another woman came even within sniffing distance of him.
And boy, was that often! In fact, every time Nathan took his turn on the lanes, in unison the comely heads of every starlet, pop star, and celebutante bowler turned to admire the butt—swathed in a distressed pair of D&G jeans—that had launched a thousand orgasms from the infamous Kat.
A particularly persistent admirer of Nathan’s backside was Jillian Wharton, one of his costars in his newest film, Thriller, which had just started preproduction.
“Is that woman following us, or something? She seems to show up every place we go,” fretted Nina to Nathan.
“Who? Oh, uh, her? Jillian?” He tried to laugh off her paranoia. “I’m guessing that Fiona’s got her on the same publicity circuit. You know, she’s one of ICA’s clients, too. This picture is a package deal, remember?”
“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Nina still wasn’t convinced. “And why does she giggle that way, every time you open your mouth? She even giggles when you sneeze.”
“She’s just being, you know, friendly.” Subconsciously, he waved over at the starlet, who waved back as she giggled again. “I’ve been helping her with her lines on the set. This is a big break for her, and she doesn’t want to blow it.”
“As long as that’s all she doesn’t want to blow.” Nina retorted. She was up next. With no effort at all, she threw a strike. Turning back around, she expected a big thumbs-up from Nathan. Instead she caught him winking at Jillian.
She refused to talk to him the rest of the night.
He pretended not to notice, but then he attacked her when they got home. “What, now I can’t even smile at another woman? Nina, it’s part of my job to turn on the charm! Do you know how hard that is to do when every time I turn around, the paparazzi is waiting to catch me doing something to piss you off? Okay, I get the fact that you don’t trust me! But at least when we’re in public, let everyone see that we’re just one big happy family, all right?”
But the truth was that they weren’t happy. At least, she wasn’t.
And the remarriage—wedding, affirmation of their vows, or whatever the hell they were calling it now—was less than a week off.
She desperately needed to talk to Sam.
“I just don’t trust him anymore.”
There. She’d said it.
Casey looked up at Nina, who was standing in a three-way mirror, trying to the come up with an excuse to why this, the sixteenth and the last of the many frothy champagne-tinted silk gowns Albertha had left for her to try on, just wasn’t right to wear to what she now euphemistically called “the circus.”
It wasn’t that the cut was wrong, or the material. For sure, that price tag would give anyone palpitations. But the real reason was, simply, that she didn’t trust Nathan any further than she could throw him.
Casey sighed. “So then why are you going through with it?”
“That’s just it! I don’t know! I guess because…because I was hoping I could forgive him, and we could pick up where we left off. And besides, Jake seems happy that we’re back together.”
“Does he, really?” Casey looked at her closely. “You know, two days ago I overheard him say to Ben that he wished he were a clown so that he could make you smile again.” She straightened a strap on Nina’s dress. “If you think that you’re doing this for him, you’re wrong. Nina, he knows something isn’t right. He just wants you both to be happy.”
Nina brushed a tear away from her eye. “I would be happy—well, happier, if I knew…”
“It’s Sam, isn’t it?”
Nina nodded. Self-consciously she fiddled with a tangled fold in the dress. “I’d hoped that Sam would have called by now, but—well, he hasn’t. I guess I need to hear from him that—that he’s really out of the picture.”
“Yeah, I guess that would be nice.” Casey plumped Nina’s petticoat, then looked it over for the full effect. “But don’t you think you know what he’s feeling by now? I mean, actions speak louder than words, right?”
“Yeah, right. I guess if anyone knows that, it’s me.” Still unsure of the effect, Nina frowned. With a shrug, she hopped down from her perch so that Casey could help her unbutton the dress.
“Of course, one thing has nothing to do with the other anyway. If Sam comes to his senses, good, you’ll deal with that when it happens. The first thing you have to address, though, is whether you can trust Nathan ever again.” Casey’s voice wavered a bit. “You know, Nina, everyone
slips up. Even Jarred did, once.”
Seeing the shock on Nina’s face, she nodded sadly. “It’s true. You see, no one’s marriage is perfect—no matter what the magazines would have you think.” Casey wiped away a tear. “When I found out, I weighed what we had together, and what he was willing to do to keep me, and came to the decision that I loved him too much to throw it all away on—on one slip of judgment.” She patted Nina’s shoulder to indicate she was done, and that Nina could now slip out of the dress.
“I’m sorry, Casey. I never knew—”
“No one does. I guess we were lucky in that regard.” She sighed deeply. “And I’ve never regretted sticking it out.”
“Then he’s—he’s held to his promise?”
Casey paused, then nodded. “Yeah. Well, anyway, as far as I know. Let’s put it this way: I’ve yet to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt.” She smiled again. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, right? Besides, I love him too much.”
But I would need to know that he was worthy of my love, thought Nina as she slipped on her jeans. And that was another problem: She wasn’t in love with Nathan.
She loved Sam.
Mexico. That’s where he was headed.
Screw L.A., was Sam’s way of thinking. At least, screw it for the next four days, while the town—for that matter, the whole world—went ape shit over the nuptials of those media darlings, Nat ’n’ Nina.
His Nina.
He buried his head in his hands.
His aching head. Aching because of the large quantities of spirits he’d been guzzling.
No wonder his breath stank. Almost as much as his life did right now.
Not only that, but Katerina was on the war path about the way Hugo had quote-unquote “mutilated our movie,” as she so grandly put it.