by Robyn Carr
Of course he was right. Then Martin couldn’t talk her out of it or disapprove of their living together. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve got to have some way to make them accept such—what’d you call me? A dissolute movie star?”
He was slurring some of his words but she could still understand them. “You’re going to make them accept you, not me. But to answer your question, I say we marry as soon as you’re up and around.”
“I’ll be fine tomorrow. That’s when we’ll get our rings.” His eyes drifted shut. He seemed to be having trouble remaining lucid, but he managed to say something else. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want.”
Given his strained relationship with his family, who else would come? One of his bodyguards? His driver or a maid? That seemed so impersonal. “Sorry, but I’ve dedicated my entire day to beating back these nurses, and I won’t quit now.”
As if on cue, the door opened. When a male hospital worker walked in, Simon offered her a wry look. “I’m safe with this one.”
Gail was too preoccupied to respond to his joke. “Do you have some reason for being here?” she asked the young man.
A sheepish expression appeared on his face. “Actually, I’m a huge fan.” He held up paper and pen as his gaze darted in Simon’s direction. “I was wondering if...if maybe I could get an autograph. I’ve seen Shiver so many times.”
“If you don’t mind—don’t mind an X,” Simon said, but Gail knew he was too groggy to hold a pen. And it was his right hand that had been injured. This guy was probably a nurse or an X-ray tech or someone who should know better than to barge into a patient’s room without a legitimate reason.
“Get out and let him rest,” Gail said. “And if you don’t post a sign on the door saying that only authorized personnel are allowed in, I’ll file a complaint and then maybe a lawsuit.”
The man’s eyes rounded. “But... I didn’t mean to... What kind of lawsuit?”
“I’m sure a good attorney could think of something. If you like your job, you wouldn’t want to be the cause of all the trouble.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, and hurried out.
Simon chuckled. “Jeez, with you around who needs security?”
She sank into her chair, which felt no softer than it had before. “I’m glad you feel that way because you won’t have any security in Whiskey Creek.”
The humor fled his face. “I won’t?”
“No. No maids or chefs or drivers, either.”
He scowled. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s too insular, too alienating, especially in a place as small as Whiskey Creek.”
“Somebody’s got to cook.”
“I’ll do it if you’ll do the driving.”
“Are you any good?” he asked skeptically.
“I’m not bad.”
“Fine. Because I’m a hell of a driver. We’ll bring the Ferrari.”
She crossed her legs. “Do you want everyone to hate you even more?”
“Money’s the one thing I’ve got left. I might as well enjoy it.”
“Later. Otherwise, it’ll look like a shield—or an enticement. This is about creating a humble image of reform.”
He tried to adjust his pillow despite his bandaged hand. “You’re making your hometown sound like a real bitch.”
She’d been trying to make it sound like a second chance. That was what she believed it could be. And, unlike Ian, Simon understood, or he never would’ve agreed to go there. He even seemed a little excited by the opportunity, although she guessed that once the drugs wore off, he’d also be frightened by the challenge. It’d been a long time since he’d gone into any relationship on an even footing. In her estimation, that was why he had no true friends.
In Whiskey Creek, it would be different. Simon would be normal, just like everyone else, or as “normal” as someone so famous could be. She hoped that he’d engage others and develop some mutual trust and respect, self-sacrifice, deep feelings. Those were the things he needed right now.
“Most of them won’t kiss your ass, but you’ll survive,” she said.
“I can hardly wait.”
Chuckling, she called up the ESPN website on her phone. “Did you hear that the Lakers are taking on the Heat tonight?”
He rested his injured hand on his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Basketball.”
“I know that. I’m wondering why. You hate sports.”
“I’m beginning to rethink my position. Anyway, you used to be a big fan of the Lakers.”
“I haven’t been following them in preseason.”
He hadn’t been keeping up with a lot of the things he normally enjoyed. She thought that should be remedied, too. “I know. So?”
“So what?”
“They’ll be starting out strong if they win.”
“How many have they won?”
“Eight of their first ten games.” She filled him in on the details before going on to the rest of the sports news. Then she moved to other sites and shared snippets of information about Egypt, China, Sudan, anything that involved people outside the U.S. She hoped doing so would remind him that L.A. wasn’t the only city in the world, that there was much more out there than fame and the movie industry and his current problems.
Hearing about people being killed and driven out of their homes seemed to put it all in perspective.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you,” he said.
He’d caught on. She smiled innocently. “Excuse me?”
“How am I going to put up with you?”
“Pretending to love me will be the biggest challenge of your acting career.”
He didn’t respond for a few seconds. Then he said, “How many people live in Whiskey Creek?”
“Population 2,000, give or take a hundred.”
Sleepiness no longer seemed to be an issue. “And they’re all going to hate me?”
She dropped her phone in her purse. “Give or take a hundred,” she repeated.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll have them eating out of my hand in a matter of weeks.”
“Glad to hear it.” She had no doubt he could do it; she just hoped she wasn’t one of them.
Fourteen
Every diamond was huge, much bigger than any Gail had seen before. And the prices... The average American house didn’t cost this much.
Mr. Nunes, who sat in Simon’s living room with the nondescript briefcase he’d carried in, had spread his entire cache of loose diamonds out on a piece of black velvet. “This one is the finest quality you’ll ever find,” he boasted as he held up yet another five-carat rock. “Just look at the clarity.”
It was beautiful. But so were the others. “How much?” she asked, and braced herself for another shocking figure. The last one had been four hundred and thirty-five thousand.
Nunes was starting to show some irritation at her continued insistence on knowing the price. “If it’s the one you like, I’m sure Simon and I can work something out.” He leaned forward to gaze deep into her eyes. “This is your engagement ring. Price is no object.”
Easy for him to say. But, surprisingly, Simon didn’t argue with him about that. He didn’t ask for smaller or cheaper diamonds, either. He simply looked on, wiggling the fingers that dangled out of the sling on his arm.
“It’s an ideal cut,” Nunes added. “And it has absolutely no color. Diamonds of this size, with a D grade and an IF clarity, are very rare.”
“Is it more money than the last one?” she asked.
He made a dismissive motion. “Not by much.”
What did that mean? Five thousand? Ten? It irritated her that he wouldn’t be specific. Just because Simon was rich didn’t mean he shouldn�
��t be concerned with getting a fair deal. “How long will it take you to set it?”
“I can have it ready in three days. You will be my top priority.”
At that price, she should be. But... “I don’t know.” Overwhelmed by the prices and the selection, she frowned at the twinkling display. “Maybe...maybe Simon and I should talk about this.”
Simon stared at her as if he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. “Talk about what?” he asked. “There must be a hundred diamonds here. Surely you can find one you like.”
She gave Nunes an apologetic smile. “Excuse us for a moment.”
“Just pick one so we can decide on the setting,” Simon insisted, but she grabbed him by the sleeve of his good arm and led him out of the room.
“What are you doing?” he asked when they were alone in the foyer.
“I think we should forget about the diamond.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You need a wedding ring.”
“We both do. But gold bands will be fine.”
“Why would you settle for a gold band?”
She wasn’t sure. There was something...hollow about choosing a big diamond when there was no meaning behind it. She felt as if they were mocking all the traditional wedding symbols. She could see someone with his wealth buying a stone like that to express his devotion to the love of his life, but she wasn’t the love of his life. So it was just...wrong. Especially when she knew that canceling his next project would cost him a fortune already. “I don’t want to be responsible for such an expensive piece of jewelry,” she said. “What if I lose it?”
“It’ll be insured.”
But a diamond, particularly of this caliber, wasn’t part of her contract price. At least, that wasn’t what she’d meant when she said he’d have to buy the rings. Her conscience would demand she return it when they divorced, so why get attached to it? What was the point? “There’s no need to invite comparisons between me and Bella. Let’s keep it simple, modest, understated.”
“You’re serious.”
“I am. I think we should sell the public on the fact that this marriage is different from the typical Hollywood marriage. That we’re about the things that really matter. No pomp or ceremony. No obvious publicity stunts. No lavish lifestyle. Just the two of us in love, living in a small house in my hometown—until we grow apart and divorce amicably, of course.”
He studied her. “Does this have anything to do with the offer I made you before? Are you afraid you’ll owe me sex in return?”
“No.”
“Then what? You don’t want to have any positive feelings for me?”
“That’s not it, either,” she said, but she couldn’t quite meet his eyes and he jumped to his own conclusion.
“Wow, even my money isn’t good enough,” he said. “Fine. No problem.”
When he headed back without her, she knew she’d offended him. He thought she wouldn’t let him redeem himself even where he could, that she found him unworthy of any approval.
But that wasn’t the problem. She found him appealing whether she approved of him or not.
And she couldn’t see how adding a half-million-dollar diamond ring to his side of the equation would make him any easier to resist.
* * *
It took nearly a week to get ready for the ceremony and still the time seemed to come up fast. They’d given Simon a chance to recover a bit, gotten the marriage license, purchased the wedding bands. Ian had found some guy on the internet who could legally officiate. For an additional fee, he was willing to come to Simon’s house. They’d have a small, private affair with only Josh and Ian as witnesses.
The ceremony would make their marriage legal and binding, and in less than an hour it would all be over.
This wasn’t exactly the type of wedding Gail had dreamed about when she was a little girl, but she’d never imagined that her mother would abandon the family, either. She had to deal with what life handed her, just like everyone else.
She sat in Simon’s bedroom, where she’d been staying most nights for the sake of appearances, and painted her fingernails. She’d just finished one hand when someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Me. You okay?”
Josh. He’d come to find her. Thank God. Just hearing his voice steadied her nerves. “I’m alive,” she said, and jumped up to let him in.
“Wow, you look beautiful,” he told her as soon as she opened the door.
He seemed honestly impressed. She liked her outfit, too. Yesterday, Simon had sent her to Rodeo Drive with his credit card but, given the recent press, she’d felt too conspicuous among all those exclusive shops. Pulling on a pair of sunglasses for camouflage, she’d driven to the closest mall, where she felt more comfortable and was able to blend in with the crowd. There, she purchased yet another suit to add to her already extensive collection. She knew that probably wouldn’t be a popular decision with Ian or Simon. But this one was teal in color and reminded her of the tailored fashions of the 1940s. She almost felt she should be wearing a fancy hat.
“Really?” She turned in a circle. “This is okay?”
“It’s stunning on you. Simple but classy.”
She released a nervous sigh. Josh was a fashionista if ever there was one. If she didn’t look good he would’ve told her. “You prepared to be a witness?”
He whipped a small camera out of his pocket. “As well as the official photographer.”
She knew he’d also help with the sale of those pictures to People. They’d agreed on that beforehand. “Great. Is Simon downstairs?”
“Waiting in the library. That’s where they’ve decided to hold the ceremony.”
“What’s he wearing?”
“A suit and, man, does he look delicious—even with his hand all bandaged up.”
“You think he looks delicious in anything.”
“He does.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “What about the officiant? Is he here, too?”
“Officiant?”
“That’s what they’re called. At least, that’s what I read on the internet.”
“Oh, you mean the minister. He’s not here yet, but he’s on his way.” He lifted the hand with the fingernails she hadn’t painted. “Shouldn’t you get on with this?”
“I was about to.” She brushed on the pink lacquer while he talked, but when she finished, he looked at her closely.
“Oh, boy, you’re not going to pass out, are you?”
“No, why?”
“You look pale.”
“Pale is my usual color,” she said, but her shaky laugh confirmed that she was more than a little out of her element. What they were doing invited bad karma. She and Simon would be making promises to love, honor and cherish each other for as long as they lived, with no intention of fulfilling those promises. She wasn’t superstitious, but she couldn’t help wondering if she was jinxing her future.
“I saw the rings,” he said. His tone indicated he wasn’t impressed.
“What do they look like?”
“You don’t know? They’re gold bands. What a cheap asshole. Why didn’t he get you something expensive and gorgeous?”
“I didn’t want that.” She fanned herself to dry the polish. “I’m trying to keep what’s happening somewhat real. Otherwise, it’ll all feel too...outlandish.”
“I have news for you, Ms. DeMarco. You’re marrying one of the most famous movie stars in America. There’s no way to avoid outlandish. I would’ve asked for the biggest diamond I could find.”
“Why make him go to the expense? It wouldn’t mean anything. And I’d just have to give it back.”
He looked at her as if she was crazy. “Who said?”
Another knock interrupted. “Ms. DeMarco?�
��
“Yes?”
“They’re ready for you in the library.”
Simon had sent a maid up to get her. Squaring her shoulders, she offered Josh another tentative smile. “Shall we?”
“Allow me,” he said and, with a gentlemanly flourish, escorted her downstairs.
As promised, Simon was in a suit. Freshly shaved, with his hair combed back, he looked every bit as good as Josh had said. Ian stood next to him, also in a suit but clearly no longer as enthusiastic about the idea of their marriage as he once was. The only other person in the room was a distinguished-looking man with silver hair who introduced himself as Reverend Bob Grady, a minister with the United Disciples of Christ Church.
Gail wasn’t remotely familiar with the beliefs of that church, was pretty sure she’d never even heard of it, but she figured that didn’t matter.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“I was just discussing with Simon the type of ceremony the two of you would like,” he told her. “Some people write their own vows, but he said you’d both prefer a simple recitation of the traditional promises. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” Her heart was beating so hard, she dared not look at Simon, but she could feel his gaze on her. Was he feeling hopeful? Relieved that the time had come and they’d be able to get this part over with? Hesitant to go through with what they’d planned? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know for fear it would undermine her own resolve.
The minister bent his head. “Then that’s what we’ll do. If you two will join hands—as best you can,” he said in deference to Simon’s injury, “and face each other in front of me, we’ll get started.”
Simon stepped up and did as he was asked. At that point, Gail had to look at him. He seemed pensive. Maybe he was as nervous as she was. And she could guess why. He’d sworn never to marry again. Even if this wasn’t a regular marriage, wasn’t real in the same sense, it sure felt real.
She almost pulled away to verify that they all believed they were doing the right thing, but Simon tightened his grip to hold her in place and she decided it was his commitment that mattered.