Drawn to You

by Jillian Anselmi

  I go downstairs to make myself breakfast. My mom is sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. “Good morning,” she says.

  “Hi,” I mutter back reaching for a mug. Now, the question is: how to tell my mom I’m getting married next week. Okay, here it goes. “Chase and I broke up.”

  “Really, that’s too bad.” She feigns interest.

  “Evan and I made up. We’re seeing each other again.” I place my mug on the Keurig.

  “Oh?” Her voice gets an octave higher as she lifts her head from the paper. I take a deep breath.

  “We’re getting married next weekend.”

  “What?” she shrieks. “Oh my goodness, that’s fantastic news,” she gushes. I show her the ring, and she jumps up and down like a child. Then a frown crosses her face. “Wait, next weekend?”

  “We’re going to Key West. A small ceremony on the beach. I’ll be back in time for work on Monday.” I focus on stirring my coffee.

  “Why in such a rush?”

  “This is all Evan. I think he’s worried I might change my mind.”

  “Well, would you?” That’s a good question. I know I love him, I always have. It’s just a different feeling than what I had with Chase. There are no butterflies with Evan. I don’t think there ever were. I feel comfortable with him, like we’ve been together forever.

  “No, I don’t think so. This is how I envisioned my future before all of the drama. I hope that I can get past his indiscretion.”

  “He made a mistake. One mistake. Don’t punish him forever. We all make stupid mistakes.”

  “I know. I’m trying.”

  “Oh! You need a dress! We can’t get a dress in less than a week!”

  “I’ll get something simple. You know I don’t like frilly.”

  “Let’s go to the mall today. We can look at dresses you won’t need to get altered.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll find something at the mall,” I murmur.

  “There are a few boutiques in town we can hit too. Okay?”

  “Fine. Can I have breakfast first?”

  “No. I’ll take you to the diner. We can talk. We never talk anymore.”

  “Okay. Let me get dressed.”

  “Fine, but hurry. We have lots of shopping to do.”

  Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to be pleasant?

  After trying on endless dresses, we decide the mall is not the right way to go. I knew we wouldn’t find anything there. I find a dress in a little boutique on Main Street right in town. It’s perfect for a beach wedding: strapless with a beaded bodice, and an empire waist, belted with a flower. It’s made of chiffon, flowing to the floor with numerous layers. And, it fits without having to be altered. I find just the right pair of sandals to go with it as well.

  I bring everything to my mom’s house, figuring I’ll keep the outfit there hanging in my old closet. I don’t want to transport it too much. I send Evan a text.

  *Mom bought me a dress*

  Evan sends a text back immediately.

  *:)*

  I’m about to put my phone down when he sends another text. It’s a picture with a link to a webpage. The picture is of a grand hotel on a beach. I click on the link, and it takes me to a hotel webpage. The Casa Marina, a Waldorf Astoria Resort. I get another text from Evan.

  *Weekend booked, flight booked :)*

  Wow, that was fast. I decide to call Bren. I don’t want to, but I know if I don’t, she’ll kill me. I dial her cell; she picks up on the second ring.

  “Hey,” she answers.

  “Hi.” I’m nervous.

  “What’s up?”

  “I have some news.”

  “Okay, spill it.”

  “I ended things with Chase.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s a long, complicated story. I’ll tell you in person.”

  “That sucks, he was a good guy,” she says.

  “There’s more,” I continue.

  “Oh?”

  I take a deep breath and blurt, “Evan and I are back together, and we’re getting married this weekend.” There, I said it. Silence stretches across the line. “Are you there?”

  “Oh, I’m still here,” she hisses. “You’re joking, right? I mean, you can’t be serious.” This is going to get ugly.

  “No, I’m not joking. We’re flying to Key West on Friday. I’m hoping you can get the weekend off and come with.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind!” She is furious. “After everything that bastard did, this is what you want?”

  I know she doesn’t understand. Her longest relationship lasted a year, and she always ends things first. She hasn’t met the right man yet that will make her say forever. “Yes, this is what I want.” I can hear her breathing on the other end. She’s trying really hard to control her temper and not flip out. “Please Bren, I need you there to support me. It would mean a lot.”

  I hear her sigh. I’m wearing her down. “I still don’t like him,” she mutters bitterly. I still don’t know why she doesn’t like him. She says things like; rubs me the wrong way, woman’s intuition, gives off a bad vibe, the asshole meter is pinned, excuses like that. I never got a straight answer, but it’s obvious they don’t get along.

  “I know. Please, for me?” There’s a long pause. Did she hang up on me?

  “I’ll call Anthony, and see what I can do,” she concedes. I know she isn’t happy about this and is only doing it because I begged.

  “Thank you, Bren!”

  “I’ll call you back,” and she hangs up. Well, at least I’ll have one witness to stand up for me. I go downstairs to tell my mom I’m leaving. I don’t want to get caught in late Saturday night Manhattan traffic. I tell her I’ll see her Friday and head out the door. As I get into my car, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Brenda.

  *Saturday AM flight to Miami. Arrives @ 10:15. We still need to talk*

  I text her back.

  *I know. Love u!*

  Perfect. I’m so glad she’s on board with this.

  The week breezes by. Most of my work is on location at East Rockaway Inlet. I tell my boss where I’m going over the weekend. He replies that if I need to take a couple of extra days, there’s a site he wants me to look at in the Keys.

  I haven’t heard a word from Chase since Evan answered my phone. I’m kind of disappointed but not surprised. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about me by now. If he wanted me back, he would have made an effort to come and find me.

  I still owe Brenda an explanation about my relationship flip-flop. I go by the restaurant late Wednesday evening, knowing she’s working. I get there around closing time when the only other people there are the bartender and a couple of cooks. I walk through the restaurant, give a wave to the bartender, and head to the back office. I find her on the line doing an inventory. “Hey,” I say so I don’t startle her. She doesn’t hear much when she’s focused on her work.

  “Hi. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to explain.”

  “Go sit at the bar, I’m almost done here,” she says as she continues to count the steaks in the cold drawers.

  I head back toward the front of the restaurant and take a seat at the bar. The bartender has gone for the day. I go behind the bar, grab a beer, and wait for Bren to finish work.

  Fifteen minutes later, she appears from the back and takes a seat next to me. “Spill it.”

  “I went to Chase’s apartment and a half naked girl came out. She was buttoning up her shirt, and Chase followed her, half naked too.”

  “What did he say?”

  “It wasn’t what it looked like,” I say. “I had a dream that I caught him like I caught Evan, and he said the same thing.”

  “So, can I ask you a stupid question?” she says softly.

  “Sure.”

  “How are you able to forgive Evan, who you caught in the act, but not forgive Chase, who you didn’t actually see do anything wrong?”

  “Why would a beaut
iful blonde woman stroll smugly out of Chase’s apartment if he wasn’t fucking her?”

  “I don’t know. I would have asked him.”

  “I didn’t want him to give me any pathetic excuses,” I mutter with disdain. “I know what I saw.”

  “Okay. I’m playing devil’s advocate here,” she says with her hands up, slightly affronted.

  “Besides, Chase knew how hurt I was when I left Evan. I told him everything. He knew how betrayed I felt when Evan cheated on me. He saw how it almost destroyed me.”

  “I see.”

  “Evan made one mistake. I make mistakes all the time. I can’t see why I couldn’t give him a chance to make it right.”

  “Do you love Chase?” she asks. Her question startles me.

  “I love Evan.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Do you love Chase?”

  “That’s not fair,” I protest.

  “Why? Can you answer the question?” I think about it for a minute. I thought I loved Chase, but it doesn’t matter now.

  “I don’t know . . . maybe,” I lie. “But I know Evan loves me.”

  “I think that he thinks he loves you. I’m just not sure that I can trust him. But, that’s for you to decide. I can’t live your life for you.”

  “No, you can’t. You’ve always been more cynical than I am. I believe him when he says it only happened once.” Brenda looks at me for a minute then shrugs her shoulders.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yup. If this is what you truly want, then okay.”

  “Thank you!” I lean over and give her a great big hug.

  “He still needs to earn my trust back.” She’s a tough one.

  “He knows,” I say with a smile.

  “I need to lock up. I’ll see you on Saturday?”

  “Okay.” I turn and head out the doors back to my car.

  It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m driving to my mom’s house. I have a bag that I packed last night in the back of the Jeep. Evan is picking me up at five for our flight out of MacArthur. I arrive at my mom’s a little before four. I grab my bags and head in the house.

  I walk in and see my mom sitting on the couch. She looks nervous, clutching at something in her hands.

  “I would love to be with you on your special day,” she starts. “But it’s such short notice and not enough time to drive.” She has an irrational fear of flying and won’t even go near an airport.

  “I wish you could be there too. Evan and I will have a small reception here when we get back.” That seems to placate her.

  “Olivia,” she continues handing me a small box, “I’m hoping you’ll wear these on your wedding day.” I open it and find a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings. “They were your grandmother’s. I wore them when I married your father.” Oh, no. Please not now.

  “They’re beautiful,” I murmur. “Of course I’ll wear them,” I say teary. As she hands me the box, I pull her into an embrace and whisper, “Thank you.” My mom and I might have our differences, but at the end of the day, I still love her. I take it and put it safely in my carry-on bag.

  Evan shows up just before five. He jumps out of the car and jogs up the walkway to my front door. He has a huge smile on his face. I am nothing but a big ball of nerves. I have a pain in my stomach that won’t go away. He opens the door and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, Mrs. B,” he greets my mom with a smile.

  “Hi, Evan,” she smiles back.

  “Here, let me take that,” he says as he picks up my bag. “Is this everything?” I nod my head. “Cool.” He takes the bag out to the car. I turn to my mom.

  “We have to go now. I don’t want to miss our flight,” I say. She walks toward me and gives me a giant hug.

  “I hope you find happiness. I’m sorry I can’t be there,” she whispers in my ear.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I hug her back.

  She finally lets me go. “Have a safe flight.”

  “Bye.” I take the garment bag holding my dress off the closet door where it was hanging and head out to the waiting car. Once inside, Evan asks, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Just checking.” He puts the car in drive, and we’re on our way. “I cannot wait for you to be Mrs. Gallagher.”

  The flight into Miami isn’t too bad. The plane is relatively empty, which is strange for the end of the summer. Weather was on our side, with clear skies all the way and minimal turbulence. We land right on time without incident.

  Evan has both of my bags as well as his own. We head over to catch our connecting flight to Key West. We need to hustle, or we’ll miss it. We are led out on the runway to a little tiny plane. Oh, I don’t know about this. Too many famous people died in planes just like this one. It should be called the Buddy Holly plane.

  Evan hands all of our bags to the flight attendant and heads up the steps to the plane. I follow behind him. Seriously, this plane can fit maybe twelve people comfortably. A few more people board behind us. Once they’re in, someone from the outside closes the hatch. An attendant, or the captain for all I know, locks it from the inside. He scoots back to the front of the plane.

  With the front curtain open, I can see out the windshield, similar to sitting in the back seat of a car. Very strange.

  The captain, who is not the guy I saw closing the hatch, turns to face the few passengers. “How’s everyone doing this evening?” he asks in a very heavy southern drawl. There are a couple of grunts from behind us. “The flight from Miami to Key West will take approximately thirty eight minutes. The winds are light and variable, which will give us a smooth ride. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened as we have been cleared for take-off.” He puts his headset on and turns around.

  The other man must be his co-captain. He comes back to make sure everyone’s seatbelt is on and goes through the mandatory safety lesson.

  I never realized how loud these little planes are until he revs up the engines for take-off. Evan grabs my hand. He knows how much I hate take-offs and landings. The plane roars down the runway, and I know we’re up once I get that weird feeling in my stomach, like riding a rollercoaster.

  Even though it’s dark, I can see the lights flickering below. We aren’t flying that high. It’s too loud to talk, so I just sit back and try to relax.

  A quick half hour or so later we are safely on the ground. The flight wasn’t horrible, but I’m not in any hurry to do it again. As we exit the plane, an attendant hands Evan our bags. Evan thanks him, and we walk off the tarmac toward the doors leading into the tiny airport.

  Since both Evan and I only travel with carry-on’s, it makes getting out of the airport that much easier. I hate waiting at baggage claim, assuming they remembered to put the luggage on the correct plane. By the exit to the street there is a driver waiting for us, holding a card with Evan’s name on it. We walk toward him and Evan identifies himself. The driver, whose nametag says Alex, is from the hotel. He takes our bags and shows us to his car.

  The drive from the airport is a short one. Alex pulls up to the entrance of the hotel and stops in front of the lobby entrance. We both get out as he retrieves our bags from the trunk and hands them to the lobby attendant.

  We enter through a set of double doors, opening into a massive space. Vaulted dark wood ceilings held up with large square dark wood columns. Large windows with a bright airy feeling giving the room warmth. Dark wood floors give the room sophistication. Holy crap, this isn’t a hotel; it’s a resort.

  Evan walks up to the concierge to check in. I just stand in the center of this massive room taking it all in. “Hey, you hungry?” Evan asks.

  “Starving,” I reply staring up at the ceiling.

  “They’re having our bags brought to our suite. Let’s go eat.” He must have already asked where to go and leads me down the massive hallway. We wind up in the resort’s restaurant aptly named Sun Sun.

  It’s crowded, even though it’s late. By the time we sit down, it’s a
lmost ten-thirty. We’re seated at a table that is practically on the beach. Sun Sun is an oceanfront restaurant, complete with swaying palm trees and warm tropical breezes.

  A waiter brings over menus, and Evan orders a bottle of champagne. As we wait, I look over the menu. Perfect. I don’t want to eat anything too heavy, and this menu is loaded with seafood and salads. Evan won’t be happy. He’s more of a steak and potatoes guy. There is one steak on the menu, and I will bet the farm that’s what he’ll order.

  The waiter comes back with the champagne and two strawberry rimmed glasses. I should have paid attention to what Evan ordered. It’s Korbel. Not a horrible champagne, but it’s not Cliquot. Chase would have ordered Cliquot.

  Evan raises his glass. “To the best weekend of our lives. I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he says, and clinks his glass against mine. I smile, but something is off. I have a strange feeling. Maybe I’m still feeling funky from that death trap they called a plane.

  The waiter comes back. I order the lobster sliders, and Evan orders the New York strip with roasted garlic and hand-cut fries. Shocker. I can’t eat a steak this late. I take a sip of my champagne. Ugh, I wish it was Cliquot. “So,” Evan inquires, “are you nervous?”

  “No. Not really. It hasn’t hit me yet.”

  “The weather is supposed to be perfect tomorrow. They say it won’t be as humid.” Right now, I have my hair up in a bun for fear that it will frizz, it’s so humid.

  “I hope so. I don’t want to look like a poodle.” I check out the crowd of people enjoying the view. It’s a very romantic place, but I’m not feeling very romantic. I look over at Evan. He’s on his phone texting or something.

  The waiter comes by with our dinner. My lobster roll looks delicious. Evan dives right in to his steak like he hasn’t eaten in days. “How’s your steak?” I ask, trying to start up some kind of conversation.