Reality Wedding

by Laura Heffernan

  Paranoid? Probably. Outside the realm of possibility? Not after everything I’d been through. Other than Connor, I didn’t trust the producers farther than pregnant Birdie could throw them, and Connor was only third in command. He did his best, but he didn’t call the shots. Had they not put Justin’s job at risk, no power in the universe would have gotten me back on reality TV. Especially not with the same producers who screwed us over last fall.

  Once the owner took the dresses to Rachel and Birdie, I moved away from Logan, making a big show of texting. The messages didn’t go to anyone; I just needed a moment alone to compose myself, to think about what almost happened and how I felt about it. Justin would get a full update later. Maybe he could give me some tips on how to tone things down without turning into an ice queen.

  Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Logan chatted with the camera crew, his usual easygoing, friendly self. It was almost like he hadn’t tried to kiss an engaged woman on national television.

  Birdie returned to the room first, wearing a low-cut, strappy peach gown that matched her skin tone perfectly. She looked naked from the waist up. The skirt was somewhat better, a simple floor-length sheath, but I couldn’t get over the top half. With her pregnancy boobs, she looked like she belonged in a porno, not my (theoretically) elegant William-and-Kate-inspired wedding.

  “No pressure, Jen, but if you pick this, I’m defecting and substituting Ed as bridesmaid,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t blame you.” I turned to Logan. “Do I get any say over the choice here?”

  He waved one hand. “Pick whatever you want. The Network gets final approval, but I only steered you toward this one to get the reactions.”

  Relief surged through me. Finally, some part of the wedding would be mine. We could find Birdie and Rachel dresses to make them feel amazing.

  “Oh, thank God. I’m taking this crap off and finding something in navy.” With a swish of chiffon, Birdie vanished back into the dressing rooms.

  I turned to Logan. “Do they have to wear the same dress?”

  “I don’t care. Same color, complementary colors, same style, complementary styles. As long as it is looks good on camera, I’ll recommend the Network approve it. What are you thinking?”

  “Well, Rachel and Sarah have similar body types and coloring. They’ll look lovely in the same dress. But Birdie’s much shorter and very pregnant. She’ll probably be most comfortable in an Empire waist. Did the Network add any other bridesmaids I don’t know about? One of Amanda’s friends, maybe, or Braden’s sister?”

  Laughing, Logan glanced at Great Hair, still in the corner capturing every bit of this exchange on video. “Don’t give them any ideas.”

  Before I could respond, Rachel emerged from the dressing room, this time with Birdie in tow.

  “Sorry, y’all,” she said. “Birdie needed some help getting out of that other contraption. What do you think of these?”

  The next dresses were forgettable, and as Birdie and Rachel rotated through the store, the cuts and fabrics all started to blur together. Bright colors, muted colors, strapless, long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves, lace, beads, feathers. Feathers? That one went quickly into the “no” pile.

  Just as I teetered on the edge of despair, Logan told me there were only about four more dresses in both fitting rooms, and he’d told the owner to save some of the best for last. I eyed him skeptically, but sipped my complimentary drink instead of commenting. If those horrible dresses he put me into were “the best” in his opinion, I had very little faith in his estimate of…well, anything.

  When my friends returned, though, I felt bad for not trusting my planner’s taste. Rachel wore a simple, floor-length navy-blue gown with a lace inset around her neck and a slit up the side. Birdie wore a strapless emerald green dress with a gathered Empire waist that fell to her knees. They both looked stunning.

  “I love you, Jen, but I can’t do strapless,” Birdie said. “Not unless you want my boobs to pop out. These things are enormous.”

  She had a point. I turned to the store’s owner. “Do you have anything with a cowl neck?” I didn’t feel the need to copy Pippa Middleton’s white bridesmaid dress exactly, but maybe we could find something similar in another color.

  She shook her head with a sad smile. “Not on such short notice. Those dresses are reserved through 2020.”

  “If I may,” Logan said. “Jen, this is going to be the wedding of the year. I appreciate that William and Kate had an amazing wedding, but it was years ago. You don’t need to copy them. Be this year’s trendsetter. Whatever you pick, other brides will be desperate to wear next year. Make the look your own.”

  “And give your bridesmaids boob control,” Birdie added.

  He turned to her. “We can add straps to this one if you like it. It’s an easy modification.”

  “A cowl neck would provide boob control. Surely, the Network could help us get one.”

  “Yeah, but is that what you want? To be a follower?” Logan said.

  “I can’t wear a cowl neck with an Empire waist,” Birdie said. “It would look ridiculous.”

  “She’s right,” Rachel said. “And an Empire waist is better for a pregnant belly.”

  Their words swarmed around me. I wished I had a real wedding planner, someone more interested in my vision than in pushing the Network’s agenda or flirting with the bride. But Birdie was right. Empire waist didn’t go with cowl neck, and my pregnant friend’s needs trumped my weird fixation on copying the royal wedding. Besides, what did it matter? Nothing else about this wedding would resemble that one. I might as well get dresses that made my friends happy.

  I started to chew on a thumbnail, but Rachel stopped me with a look. Two blue dresses, once Sarah arrived, and one green. Blue and green, like the ocean. Like everything in the Fishbowl. Like the theme of the show, where Justin and I met. It could be a nice throwback. Or, we could go all the way. “Do you have these dresses in turquoise?”

  Birdie exhaled, as if she’d been worried I’d pick the peach monstrosity. Rachel glanced into the mirror as if picturing how a blue-green dress would look. But the owner simply nodded and ushered them both into the dressing room.

  I sipped my growing-flat sparkling wine while we waited, worried this was all a trick and Rachel would reappear in blue-green body paint or they’d make Birdie dress her stomach up as a glittering disco ball.

  When the store owner reappeared to introduce Rachel and Birdie in the new dresses, I sighed in relief. They looked beautiful. The gowns required only minor alterations, and the store owner promised the work could be done by Thursday. Even better, Sarah could try on the dress at her local store in Miami, then call here to reserve her size before flying out.

  Finally, something was going right. The wedding was starting to turn around.

  Chapter 9.5

  On the Groom Cam, Tuesday:

  The camera opens inside a bakery. Black and white tiles line the floor. Stencils of stars and television sets line the walls. A glass case displays rows of cupcakes, cookies, and brownies.

  Justin: My trial’s over. Sarah and I are flying out tomorrow. We’re at Sweet Reality to put the finishing touches on her gift to us.

  Sarah: Well, we’re calling it a groom’s cake so they’ll let us bring it, but it’s mostly a gift for Jen. I couldn’t believe it when she told me the Network is making her eat vegan cake at her wedding. Not on my watch!

  The camera follows Sarah through a swinging door to the kitchen. A sheet cake lays on a metal table near the rear wall.

  Sarah: This is Jen’s current favorite.

  Justin: Yeah, her ‘favorite’ changes a lot.

  Sarah: What can I say? I make good cakes. Anyway, this is a yellow sheet cake with a layer of crushed hazelnuts and chocolate ganache in the middle, with chocolate hazelnut frosting. But come look at the best part.

 
The camera peers down at the top of the cake. Sarah has printed the scene from Jen and Justin’s final moment on The Fishbowl: Jen and Justin, standing outside on the driveway, sharing their first real kiss. Raindrops sparkle across the surface.

  Justin: Did you put glitter on my cake?

  Sarah: It’s edible glitter. Don’t worry. I wanted to go fancier, since you only get one wedding cake.

  Justin: Technically, we’re getting two.

  Sarah shoots a withering look at the camera. Do you want it to be just one?

  Justin: Sorry. Continue.

  Sarah: So, anyway, I wanted multiple tiers, something spectacular, but since I’m carrying this with me on the plane–and it’ll have to go through security–that wasn’t feasible. But I think Jen will like this.

  Justin: Are you kidding? She’s going to be blown away. Thank you.

  Chapter 10

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  Pretending to plan my dream wedding is fun and all, but I miss you.

  Justin Taylor to MRS. Reid:

  Are you saying that so I won’t get mad at you for going cake tasting without me?

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe.

  Ok, no. I really do miss you.

  Justin Taylor to MRS. Reid:

  And you really are going cake tasting without me?

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  You get all the cake you want from Sarah.

  Justin Taylor to MRS. Reid:

  Yes, I can. No sugar-free vegan cake in Sweet Reality!

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  :-P Now I don’t feel bad. Also, the wedding planner keeps hitting on me, and it’s your fault.

  Justin Taylor to MRS. Reid:

  Sorry. :-( But you can handle him. It’s only a couple more days.

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  If he tries to kiss me again, I’m going to be very cross with you.

  Justin Taylor to MRS. Reid:

  Would it make you feel better if I kiss J-dawg when I get out there?

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  ……

  Jen Reid to Justin Taylor:

  Depends on how good a kisser Logan is.

  On Tuesday morning, I insisted that Logan take us cake tasting. Oh, sure, the Network had already decided on some probiotic kale cake or maybe a tower of cardboard or whatever, but that didn’t mean I had to miss out on the most fun part of the process. Even for someone who owned a bakery.

  The tasting went better than dress shopping, largely because we got to eat whatever we wanted. Vanilla cake with chocolate frosting; vanilla cake with strawberry filling and whipped cream topping, much like the cupcake Justin hid my engagement ring in; chocolate cake with a caramel center and chocolate caramel candies on top. The cakes were light and airy. I made a mental list of notes to text Sarah when I got back to the house.

  Never put a whole strawberry inside the shortcake cupcake.

  We need a cupcake with ROLOs.

  The bakery even offered to create a maze of cupcakes, much like the hedge maze on the grounds. Only more delicious.

  Logan dragged me away from the cashier before I could finish placing an order. Behind me, Great Hair stuffed a suspiciously bulging cardboard box into one of her camera bags. I wondered if she’d be willing to share later.

  “This is a wedding, Jen, not a birthday party. There’s no room for kitschy cakes at a wedding,” Logan said.

  “If this were my wedding, there would be. A cupcake maze or a puzzle cake sounds perfect for me and Justin.”

  “I agree,” Rachel said. “Don’t forget, puzzles brought them together.”

  “The Network brought them together,” Logan said. “And the Network isn’t paying for creatively arranged cupcakes or anything sugar-filled. The cake’s already been bought.”

  “#Killjoy,” Birdie said.

  “I’m not trying to ruin your fun. I let you eat cake all morning. It’s time to get back to the house. We’ve got things to do.”

  “Like what? You want me to ooh and ahh over the napkin arrangements?”

  Logan smiled lazily and tilted his head at me. “Sure, Jen. I’d love to show you my napkins.”

  My cheeks flamed. How he managed to make even little random things sound dirty, I’d never know. Rachel shot me a questioning look, but now wasn’t the time. Instead, I stuffed a final bite of cake into my mouth, a bit too big to allow for talking. It was delicious. I wondered what would happen if I snuck out of the house and called the bakery later, pretending to be Janine. Or maybe Sarah could call for me. I reached for one more bite, but Logan grabbed my hand.

  “Seriously, it’s time to go. Sorry.”

  We grumbled, but followed him back to the car. Birdie disappeared up the stairs for a nap as soon as we got back to the house, muttering something that sounded like “#sugarcoma.” Rachel followed to change into her swimsuit. For a few minutes, I had the lower level to myself, which made this the perfect time to check my phone.

  The Network allowed me to keep it with me in the house, as long as I used the speaker when making calls. But when we went out into the world, my phone stayed behind. Logan and whichever PAs were assigned to me had phones in case of emergency, but they didn’t want me to sneak out to make secret calls or something.

  Not totally paranoid of them, considering I’d ducked into the maze to call Justin twice since getting here. And they didn’t know about all the texts we exchanged from the burner phone stashed under my mattress.

  Returning to the kitchen, I pulled my phone out of the drawer where we kept it and turned it on. Seven texts from Justin and three voicemails. What the hell? Was he already in Los Angeles, on his way to see me?

  Instead of checking the messages, I tapped his name immediately. He answered on the third ring. “Jen, I’m…sorry.”

  Those words didn’t do anything to quell the growing sense of dread within my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

  “…”

  With a sigh, I moved toward the patio doors to get a better signal. Really, I needed to replace this phone after the wedding. “Justin, the reception is terrible, I can’t hear you.”

  “…texts…”

  My phone had four bars, so the problem wasn’t me. “Justin, can you walk somewhere with better reception?”

  “No…I…ry.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “What’s going on?”

  “…arah…”

  Sarah?

  Oh, no. The thought of something horrible happening to my sister-in-law and best friend left me momentarily unable to speak. With shaking hands, I filled a glass with water. It took two swallows before I could reply. “Sarah? What about Sarah? Is she okay? Is she with you?”

  “Not…sister.”

  His twin wasn’t his sister? That didn’t make any sense. “Justin, I can’t hear you. Where are you?”

  “Airport…on.”

  I fought the urge to chuck my useless phone across the room. “What? Justin, I can’t understand anything you’re saying. We’ve got a terrible connection.”

  The phone went dead. I called him back immediately, but nothing happened. The several voicemails he’d left shed no additional light on anything: a lot of static, a couple of broken airline announcements in the background, crowd noise, and one that sounded like a butt dial from the men’s room. Awesome. My concern grew with each uninformative message. All the texts were variations of “Please call me ASAP.”

  Heart pounding, I dialed Sarah’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. She should be on a plane, not at the bakery, but I dialed the landline, anyway. The phone at Sweet Reality rang and rang until the line started buzzing. Since the shop should be open, getting no answer made me even more nervous.

  I was still standing in the kitchen, s
taring out over the pool, when Rachel entered wearing her swimsuit. “You okay? One of the producers said they heard yelling.”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “Well, that clears things right up.” She tilted her head at me, eyes full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Justin called, but the reception was all wonky, and it sounded like there was some issue with his sister. I tried to call Sarah, too, but her phone’s off. I hope she’s okay.”

  “Hold on a sec. He said there’s a problem with Sarah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When are they supposed to be flying in?” Rachel pulled out her phone and started tapping. “Do you have the flight number?”

  “He was supposed to fly out of Florida a few hours ago. When he called, I thought his flight landed early, but he was apologizing and sounding stressed. It doesn’t sound like they were on the plane. Should I go to the airport, just in case?”

  Rachel kept tapping, a grim look on her face. Then she held her phone out to me. “No, Jen, I don’t think you should.”

  I snatched her phone out of her hand. Then all the wind rushed out of me. She’d pulled up a news site. HURRICANE CARA STRANDS THOUSANDS. Below the headline, a picture showed a Florida airport, absolutely packed with people.

  He said Cara, not Sarah.

  “I’m sorry, Jen,” Rachel said, “but I don’t think Justin’s flying in tonight. According to this site, he might not be able to get a flight for days.”

  “What about Atlanta? Can he drive to Atlanta? My family’s flying through there.”

  She tapped a few more times, biting her lip. I found the answer on my phone right when a low murmur told me Rachel saw it, too.

  All flights canceled. My entire family stranded.

  My heart sank. Just when things finally started to go right, when I started to think the whole wedding might not be a complete disaster, my groom wasn’t even coming.

  * * * *

  About an hour later, I finally got a text from Justin. He confirmed that he and Sarah were stranded. He also told me his roommate wasn’t going to make it as best man, which under the circumstances didn’t seem to matter. With no groom, no family other than the bride’s mother, and no idea how the wedding would proceed, I didn’t care whether the best man showed. I wanted to spend the afternoon sulking, but the show must go on. One of the producers sent me and Rachel out to the pool. I didn’t have any better ideas, so I went.