by Lizzie Shane
Her mother frowned. “That wasn’t what I meant and I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve that tone.”
“How else could you mean it?” Sidney asked.
Her mother set down her coffee, glowering across the table. “I only meant that you’ve been working very hard lately to increase the profile of your business in a way these magazine people would take notice of, but that those kinds of efforts take time to reap rewards and by this time next year you’ll be seeing the benefits of your efforts in a more concrete way.”
Sidney froze—the glower and the icy tone were familiar, but she couldn’t seem to process the words. “What?”
“Magazines work months in advance. In order to ensure they could get the photos and quotes they need for the spread, they would have set their list ages ago—probably before they even saw you on that show of yours and you began to be known on a more national level. Certainly before they had any awareness of this TV wedding you’re planning. When they see what you’ve done with it, they’ll put you on the list for next year. Probably feature you prominently, if they have any sense.”
Sidney’s brain moved sluggishly. Her mother sounded certain. Far more certain than either she or Tori had when they were giving themselves pep talks downstairs. She sounded as if the fact of Sidney’s talent was obvious and the magazine people would be idiots to ignore it. Her mother sounded proud. “Thank you?”
“I’m not complimenting you,” her mother said, in her usual frank way. “Compliments are for people who need to be told they are good at what they do. You should know without being told.”
Sidney frowned, trying to make sense of her mother’s unique logic. “Are you telling me you never tell me I do a good job because I should just know I’ve done a good job and I should be insulted if you thought I needed to be told?”
“Exactly.”
Sidney tried not to be annoyed with her mother’s approach to—well, to everything. She didn’t have the energy to make sense of it today. But for the first time, she looked at her mother, really looked at her since she’d arrived. There was extra gray in her hair that she hadn’t bothered to cover up with dye and the lines around her mouth were more pronounced, her shoulders tight with tension, her grip around her coffee cup white-knuckled.
Whatever she’d come over here to say, she hadn’t spit it out yet.
“Mom, why are you here? You never come to Once Upon a Bride and I think this is the third time since I moved in here that you’ve been to my apartment. Is something wrong? Are you sick?”
“Of course not.” Again that tone—as if insulted by the mere thought that she might allow disease into her body. She cleared her throat and adjusted the angle of her coffee mug handle. Then she looked up, meeting Sidney’s gaze with matching eyes. “I would like things to change. Between us.”
Sidney blinked and then brilliantly said, “Oh.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Marguerite pursed her lips, seeming to radiate disapproval, but now Sidney was beginning to wonder if she was reading something that wasn’t really there.
“Your brother had to tell me about that list of yours because you hate talking to me and if not for Max I would never know about this man you’re seeing—”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” Sidney interrupted. At her mother’s single raised eyebrow, she admitted, “Not anymore.”
“I don’t want that to be our relationship, Sidney. I know I’m not a normal mother. I’ve never been good at the maternal things and I don’t like to focus on things at which I can’t excel, so I’ve undoubtedly shortchanged you in the mothering department—for which you have my apology—but I do want… that is to say, I want us to talk about things.”
Sidney shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not even knowing where to begin. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… what brought this on?”
Her mother’s lips pursed again—disapproval or defensiveness? “Your father and I are separated and I’m realizing I don’t really know my family.”
“Mom! That’s the kind of news you lead with. When did that happen?”
Her mother flapped a hand. “It was months ago. We decided not to publicize it to avoid destabilizing our companies with rumors of a messy divorce.”
“I’m not the public, Mom. I’m your daughter. How long has Max known?”
“I spoke with him yesterday, but I think he may have suspected. He didn’t seem surprised.”
Sidney was surprised enough for both of them. “You’ve lied to both of us for months?”
Her mother’s lips pursed yet again—definitely defensive, Sidney realized. “I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not something I’m proud of.”
Sidney felt a stab of sympathy. With her mother’s obsession with success, a failed marriage had to burn like a son of a bitch.
“You adore love—your entire business is about matrimony. How was I supposed to tell you that your father and I have decided to go our separate ways?”
Sidney didn’t have an answer for that, so she stalled for time by drinking her coffee. She’d always felt so uncomfortable around her mother. So ashamed. Was it really possible that her mother felt exactly the same way? “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.”
“Yes, well, I’ve made mistakes in our interactions and I want to rectify them.” Trust her mother to be businesslike even when she was trying to mend mother-daughter bonds. “I don’t know how to be other than I am, Sidney. I don’t know if I was a good wife and I’m fairly certain I wasn’t a very good mother, but I do love you.”
“I love you too.”
Her mother’s tense face softened. “Thank you. And that’s a start. But I’m hoping that perhaps you and I can get to the point of liking one another as well. If you’d be interested in that.”
Sidney felt her own defensiveness softening. “I think we can both be better about some things.”
Maybe there was hope for them after all.
*
By the time her mother left and Sidney went back downstairs for her first appointment, everything was not magically solved in her relationship in her mother, but she was—rather surprisingly—in a better mood than she had been before Marguerite’s unexpected appearance.
They’d talked some about her parents’ separation and Sidney found herself remarkably unfazed by the event which pop culture had taught her ought to be traumatic. But it had been so long since she’d seen her parents actually physically in the same room with one another, and even before then they’d never had the Leave It To Beaver style marriage Josh had ascribed to his parents—her parents were more the board room merger types—so it was hard to work up much more emotion than she would feel at the dissolution of a long-standing business partnership. The fact that they had both contributed DNA to her existence didn’t change that.
Sidney met with her ten o’clock prospective client—a nervous young bride down from Santa Barbara who didn’t want her socialite motherin-law to know she wasn’t capable of planning the entire wedding herself while also studying for her MCAT exams. She walked the girl out after her appointment and then walked back to the office in search of Victoria.
She found her partner still staring at the Veil magazine website.
“Please tell me you haven’t been obsessing over that list for the last three hours.”
Tori looked up. “I’m not obsessing. I’m researching. I just want to know what they’re doing that we aren’t.” She spun her chair away so her back was to the screen. “What did your mom want?”
“To tell me that she wants to be friends. And she’s positive Once Upon a Bride is going to make the list next year. Oh, and just to slip into the conversation that she and my father have been separated for six months.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yup.”
“How are you feeling about all that?” Tori asked cautiously.
“Surprisingly okay.”
The chimes over the front door rang.
“
Are you expecting a client?” Sidney asked, automatically moving in that direction.
“No.” Tori rose to follow her, so they were both nearly knocked off their feet when they stepped into the main room of Once Upon a Bride and literally ran into Parvati.
The stack of magazines she’d been carrying slid from her hands to splat on the floor. A shiny print edition of The Veil splayed open beside an Us Weekly and a pair of other entertainment tabloids—all three of which featured splashy pictures of Josh and Olga with the words Splitsville! and Dumping Mister Perfect? in giant yellow letters.
“Sorry!” Parv dropped to her knees, hurriedly shoving the Josh and Olga covers underneath The Veil magazine and picking up the stack. “I have the list! I got the first one as soon as they put them on the display at the market, but I haven’t looked yet. I came straight here—”
“We’ve seen it,” Tori interrupted as Parv clambered to her feet. “It’s online.”
“Oh.” Parv’s bright-eyed expression fell a notch. “Of course it is. Everything is these days, isn’t it? Stupid me.” She read the truth on Tori’s face and her own fell farther. “You aren’t…?”
Sidney shook her head. “No.”
Parv rallied quickly. “Well it doesn’t mean you aren’t the best. What do they know?”
“Maybe we don’t need to be the best,” Sidney said, and Parv and Tori both looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “What?”
“Are you feeling okay?” Tori asked. “You’re the only person I know who is more obsessed with wedding perfection than I am.”
Sidney shrugged and moved to the sample table to grab a chair. “I still want the weddings to be perfect for our brides, but maybe the list isn’t the most important thing as long as we’re making our brides’ dreams come true.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Sidney Dewitt?” Parvati teased, grabbing another chair at the table as Tori came over to join them as well.
“Are we happier now than we were when we started trying to be on the list?” Sidney asked her partner.
“We have more clients,” Tori said carefully. “That’s a good thing.”
“Remember a few months ago when you tried to remind me that we started this business to help every bride get her dream wedding? Do you still want that?”
“Yeah,” Tori said, the answer eloquent in its simplicity.
“Me too. And I want to figure out how to make my dreams come true too.”
“I like that plan.” Parvati reached across the table to squeeze her hand.
“What does that entail?” Tori asked—she who had always been nervous about change.
“I’m not going to be Miss Right. If I want to date, maybe I’ll join eHarmony to look for a nice guy—”
“Fair warning: internet dating is weird,” Parvati announced.
“I’ll take my chances. It can’t be any stranger than reality television.”
Parv snorted. “Wanna bet?”
“Either way, I’m going to stop letting the things I can’t have get in the way of my happy ending.”
Tori stood abruptly. “Hold that thought.” She darted out of the room, returning moments later carrying a bottle of champagne, shiny with condensation. “I had this on hand just in case we made the list, but this is even better.” Parvati grabbed glasses off one of the display tables and Tori popped the cork. When they each had a brimming glass of bubbly, Victoria lifted her glass high. “To true friendship, true happiness, and to each and every bride getting a dream wedding on her budget. To Once Upon a Bride.”
Sidney clinked her glass against Tori’s echoing the last words—and for the first time in a long time, feeling like herself again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was strange, standing in front of the beach house and feeling like it was his, but knowing it was only Marissa’s now. Marissa’s and her new fiancé’s.
He’d told himself when he moved out that he would never be back, but it turned out his health insurance didn’t care about his vows to himself. They kept sending his mail to the beach house. Marissa had offered to drop them by his apartment, along with a crystal vase his mother had given them for their first anniversary, but he’d balked at the idea of having her see his depressing Divorce Guy apartment—and since he hadn’t been house-hunting since things went sideways with Sidney, he was still living the crappy life.
He’d thought this would be better, salvaging what was left of his pride, but seeing his old place might be worse.
He missed it.
Not just the house, but the life. The way living here had made him feel.
Pulling into this driveway had always made him feel like he had it all. He’d loved his life—far more than he’d loved Marissa, if he was honest.
He walked up to the front door and pressed the doorbell, a sense of disorientation swamping him as waited, listening for footsteps on the other side of the door. Instead he heard the sound of the surf and got caught up remembering a thousand nights standing on the back deck, listening to the waves and feeling like he had the world on a string.
He knew she was expecting him, but he was so caught in nostalgia he was surprised when the door popped open suddenly and there she was. Marissa.
Still petite and gorgeous, with her hair flowing over her shoulders in dark brown waves.
He struggled for something to say. “Hi.” TV’s Josh Pendleton, ladies and gentleman. Always smooth and suave.
“Hi.” She smiled tentatively up at him. “Come in.” She waved him into the foyer, radiating the same discomfort he felt. “I’ll just, ah, get the box with your stuff.”
She disappeared through the arch toward his den while he hovered awkwardly in the foyer, trying not to feel a sense of possession for the house that still felt like his down to his bones. He’d thought he was going to raise his children here, that they would have their thirtieth wedding anniversary party down on the beach. He’d been wrong about a lot of things.
“Here it is,” she announced as she reentered the room, carrying a small cardboard box with the logo of an online retailer on the side. “Everything should be in there. The letters look important, so…”
He took the box from her. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Of course! It’s the least I could… you know.”
He nodded, hitching the box up uncomfortably, even though it wasn’t heavy or awkwardly shaped. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah!” she said, lunging a little too enthusiastically at the pathetic conversational gambit. Then calming herself down several notches she repeated, “Yeah. You?”
“Good,” he confirmed, nodding. “Place looks nice. Different.”
She’d redecorated since he moved out. Nothing major. Things that only the two of them would have noticed, but he realized almost instantly that he shouldn’t have commented on it. What little comfort she’d gained during their chit-chat vanished and she grimaced uneasily.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry this is so weird.”
It could have been a lot worse, he realized. A few months ago, it probably would have been. He wasn’t sure what had changed. He still missed his old life, missed it hard, but the grief wasn’t so fresh anymore and he felt like he could actually mean what he was about to say.
“I am sorry. About the way things turned out.” He hadn’t handled the divorce well. Hadn’t handled much of the marriage well, if he was being honest. “Did you hate me?”
“No. It would have been easier if I did.” She grimaced. “Do you hate me?”
“No. I was mad at you for a long time though.” Not anymore, he realized. He wasn’t sure when that had stopped. Or maybe it had just receded for a while, like the tide, held at bay by his current bout of nostalgia.
“I didn’t sleep with him until we were officially separated, if that makes any difference.”
Maybe it should have made it better, but it didn’t. Somehow knowing that she hadn’t been technical
ly unfaithful when she met and fell in love with another guy while still married to him didn’t change a damn thing about how he felt about it. He still hated it.
But he was having a harder time blaming her than he used to. Strange that being back here at the house he had loved more than his wife made him wonder if he’d ever been any good as a husband.
“Was I a bad husband all along?”
Marissa looked pained by the question. “No. You were great… and horrible.”
She didn’t need to explain more. He knew exactly what she meant. He’d loved the idea of being married, just like he loved the idea of his perfect life, but he hadn’t been good at being there for her. He’d excelled at the big romantic gestures—the MMP-style stuff—but when it came to the minutia of the day to day, he’d mentally checked out.
“We were just wrong for each other,” Marissa said, giving him a free pass he wasn’t sure he deserved. Though she wasn’t entirely innocent either.
He stopped that thought before it could veer into bitterness. At least they weren’t snarling at each other anymore. They were never going to be one of those couples who became friends after their divorce. Seeing her was always going to be awkward and complicated—but it wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined it might be.
“I should get going.”
“Right,” she agreed, a little too quickly. “I really hope things go well for you, Josh.”
“Yeah. You too.”
*
Autopilot took Josh halfway to Eden before he realized he was on his way to see Sidney—and she probably wouldn’t want to see him. His convertible was almost on empty, so he pulled into a gas station to fill up and get his head clear.
It was Tuesday. He should head down to Flannigan’s and meet the guys. He should sign his contracts and drop them at Harry’s place so his agent would stop calling him. He should do any number of things, but all he wanted was to see her. Or at least talk to her on the phone.
He wanted to tell her about his elaborately staged breakup with Olga—just to see if he could make her laugh. She was the only one with whom he wanted to talk about seeing Marissa again—and see the understanding in her teal eyes. He needed to make sure she was okay after the Veil list skipped over Once Upon a Bride—he’d stalked that damn website for weeks, waiting to see if she would hit the list.