by Kira Blakely
She looks at the waiter who’s standing just nearby and then at the diners at the next tables. “My son is getting married!”
The room erupts into applause, some of the diners murmuring their congratulations.
I clasp a hand over my mouth, embarrassed. What on earth is she doing?
“Mom,” Dash pleads. “Please sit down.”
“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” His mother hugs him again then picks up her glass. “To my son’s engagement.”
Dash raises his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I raise my glass and then take a sip.
To my surprise, Mrs. Siegel comes over to hug me.
“Janine, was it?” She cups my face then pinches my cheek lightly. “Oh, I’m so glad Dash has found such an amazing woman.”
I blink as I stare at the white linen on the table. Really? She thinks I’m amazing? She approves of me?
I almost want to pinch myself.
Finally, Mrs. Siegel sits down. “Now, tell me, when is this wedding taking place?”
Dash clasps his hands on the table. “Well, I know Dad just passed away so…”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Siegel cuts him off. “You know this is what your Dad wanted. Besides, now is the perfect time to celebrate.”
Dash touches her arm. “But, Mom…”
“No buts.” Mrs. Siegel waves a finger. “I’m tired of mourning and I don’t care about tradition. Life is too short for such things. Get married now. Oh, look how beautiful she is and how strong you look beside her.” Her eyes shine as she drinks us in, like we’re already on a family Christmas card in her imagination. “Don’t wait! What’s more, I’m going to pay for it.”
I lift my glass to my lips to take another sip. She will?
“That’s very generous of you, Mom,” Dash tells her, sitting back.
“I’ll pay for all of it.” She extends her arms. “The church, the flowers, the gowns, the food – oh, why don’t we ask Charleston to cater it?”
I almost choke on the mouthful of wine I’ve just swallowed. What?
“Mom.” Dash reaches for her hand. “Janine and I actually intended for this to just be a small…”
“Don’t be silly, whatever for?” she cuts him off again, shaking her head. “You and Janine are going to have the whole shebang, if it’s the last thing I do. Bells, whistles, and all. In fact, it’s going to be the wedding of the year.”
My jaw drops, my hands slowly falling into my lap.
This must be some joke, right?
* * *
It’s real. It’s all real.
As I sit in the corner of the pristine bride’s room inside the church, my bridesmaid – Dash’s cousin, Fiona – arranges the flowers in my hair.
“Are you okay, girl?” Fiona wonders, tugging at my braid. “You look a little sick.”
“N-no, I’m fine,” I lie to her, thinking I might throw up right now. “I’m fine. There’s just a lot going on right now.” All the deep breathing in the world isn’t going to stop my heart from beating out of my chest, and my eyes blur with involuntary tears. “Everything is just starting to sink in. That’s all,” my voice hoarse from the lump in my throat.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I feel my heartbeat in my hands and feet. In my lips.
“This whole wedding is so grand and so beautiful,” I tell her, voice trembling. A hot tear spills down one cheek as I speak. “There are, like, four hundred people here, and none of them even know who I am.” I laugh a little at the insanity of it all. “This is all really happening.” I swipe the tear track from my cheek, probably smearing the makeup. “It’s all real. Everything but me.” I drag in a breath through my clotted nostrils. “I’m a fake.”
“Could you hold that thought right there?” Fiona asks as she stands up, sounding high-pitched and nervous. “I need to get more pins for your hair.”
Then she rushes towards the door and is gone.
My shoulders sag. Finally try to open up to someone about all this and she bolts.
Alone, I get out of the chair and walk towards the full-length, gilded mirror, standing in front of it.
In the glass, I see a thirty year old woman in a designer, mermaid-style wedding gown. The mix of beaded satin and chiffon hangs off my shoulders and hugs my waist before flowing around my legs like a cascade of clouds, rustling and billowing with even the slightest of movements. Her face is pale. Her lips are a glossy pink. Her eyelids glitter. Her hair is braided, the strands woven together seamlessly, intricately, little white flowers in between. Strings of diamonds hang from her ears.
Is that me?
I run my fingers over my heart-shaped pendant, the only thing I have that belongs to me, a remnant of who I really am.
Oh, what have I done? Am I really going with this? Am I really going to throw myself away so that I can make my mother happy? She couldn’t even be here today. She’s too weak from the chemotherapy, and it’s all being livestreamed to her, but it’s not the same.
Maybe it’s a good thing. If she was here, she might see through me and figure out I’m a phony.
Everything about this wedding is perfect except me. I’m not really a bride. I’m just a scared, foolish woman. I don’t belong here. I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want this.
Suddenly, I hear a rap on the door.
“Janine?”
My heart stops. It’s Dash.
“Janine, are you alright?” he asks beyond the door.
“No,” I tell him, fighting back tears. “I don’t think I can do this.”
He falls silent.
For a moment, I think he’s left, my heart sinking. Then I hear the door open softly, closing behind Dash who is now in the room.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him, wiping a tear as I hide my relief.
“I want to be.” He walks towards me, turning me around and placing his hands on my arms. “I want you to know that you’re not alone.”
“But I am.” I shake my head as I look at the floor. “I am alone. We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong and it’s—”
“Shh.” Dash grasps my chin gently so that his eyes, calm as a misty lake, are gazing into mine. “I know you’re scared, Janine. I know this is all too much and that you think it’s all a big mistake. But you’re not alone.”
He catches one of my tears with his thumb then strokes my cheek.
“I’m here. We’re doing this together.”
I shake my head, looking down at my hands. “I don’t know. I just feel so overwhelmed and…”
“Look at me, Janine.” He takes my hands.
I lift my head slowly, my gaze taking in his crisp, white shirt, his tailored tuxedo, his impeccable bowtie, his cleanly shaved chin, his slightly parted lips, and finally, his livid eyes. My breath catches. My heart goes still.
Just like that, the whole room disappears and it’s just Dash standing in front of me.
“There may be a lot of people out there,” Dash says, squeezing my hands. “But this wedding is between you and me. Only you and I know what’s at stake. Only you and I matter.” Don’t think about anyone else. Just think of me. Just look at me. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Then his hand is gone. He walks away slowly, still facing me then just near the door, he turns, opening the door and leaving the room without another glance, another word.
He’s said all he needs to say.
I turn back towards the mirror, taking a deep breath as I gaze at my reflection.
“I’m back,” Fiona announces as she enters the room. “And I’ve got the pins.”
She walks over to me, putting them in my hair along with the remaining flowers.
“The ceremony’s about to start.” She puts in the last pin then places her hands on my shoulders. “Are you ready?”
I nod.
I still can’t believe that woman staring back at me is really me but I’m no longer afraid. I still don’t know if this arrangement is going to work or if it’s
the right thing to do but I’m not running away. Dash is waiting for me at the end of that aisle.
At the thought of him, I smile, a flurry of excitement washing over me amid the sea of doubts and fears.
This may not be real. This may be just a business deal, but at least I still have Dash.
As the music starts, I square my shoulders, grab my bouquet, and walk towards the door.
Chapter 7
Dash
“Here we are.”
I push the door to the hotel room open with my back, setting Janine down as soon as we cross the threshold.
She straightens the front of her pale pink dress. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“But it’s what newlyweds do,” I answer, tossing the keycard on the table before hauling our suitcases in. “And we, my dear, are newlyweds. We should act the part.”
She sighs, sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed and then lying down, her arms outstretched while staring at the ceiling.
“I’m just glad I’m out of that wedding gown and away from all those strangers with their cameras and their smiles.”
I park the suitcases beside the closet, looking at her.
I know that was tough on her. When I saw her in the bridal room, I could see in her eyes that she was ready to give up and, for a moment there, while I was standing at the altar, I was afraid she wasn’t going to appear.
But she did, breathtakingly beautiful and radiant. She walked down the aisle with a smile, eyes on me, said all she needed to say during the ceremony and charmed everyone at the reception. She did all that even though I know she was shaking in her shoes, convincing everyone that she was a bride. Even me.
I sit beside her, holding her hand. “You did well.”
“I’m exhausted,” she answers, still gazing at the ceiling. “What time is our flight tomorrow?”
“Our flight to Tokyo is at ten.”
I get off the bed, walking towards the window with my hands in my pockets, gazing at the airport next door.
“We can go there at nine.”
Janine glances at her watch. Then she sits up.
“I’m too tired to sleep. I think I’ll go downstairs to the lounge and grab a drink. I didn’t really get one at our reception.”
“Great idea.” I grab the hotel keycard. “I’ll join you.”
* * *
“You didn’t have to join me.”
Janine takes another sip from her glass of margarita, her other arm folded across her belly as she sits back in her leather chair.
I take a sip from my own glass of Scotch, staring at her across the table over the vase of roses and the candles.
“Why not? This is actually nice.”
It’s a weeknight so the lounge is nearly empty; the bartender looking bored behind the shiny bar counter. It’s dark, too, the light spilling out from just a few carefully placed lamps on the walls and tables, and quiet except for low chatter and the music from the black piano in the corner, mostly blues.
It should be the perfect place for unwinding after the most hectic of days, but Janine won’t even look at me. Her doleful eyes roam the entire lounge, but they don’t touch me.
I set down my glass. “You don’t have to look so unhappy that I decided to accompany you.”
“I’m not. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath as she crosses her legs. “You can drop the act, you know? No one’s here.”
“You’re here,” I remind her, leaning back in my chair.
Janine rolls her eyes. “We both know you’re not doing any of this for me.”
I put my hands in my pockets. “You’re only here because of your mother.”
She falls silent and the moment I see her eyebrows furrow in the middle and the corners of her lips turn down in a scowl, I regret my words, washing down the bitterness they’ve left on my tongue with more Scotch. I shouldn’t have said that, even in defense of myself, even if I’m right. It just hurt her to be reminded.
Now she’s in an even worse mood, ordering another margarita. What I don’t understand is why she was even in a bad mood in the first place. Was it something I said or did?
Whatever the reason, this isn’t the way to start off a marriage, fake or otherwise.
Grabbing my glass, I get out of my chair, occupying another one on the other side of the table, closer to her.
“Hey. I’m sorry your mother wasn’t able to attend.”
She shakes her head, running her fingers over her new glass. “She wouldn’t have enjoyed it any more than I did.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” I lean forward on my knees. “How is she doing?”
“Oh, you know.” She uncrosses her legs, her dress rustling. “You’ve seen her.”
Yes, I have. I know she doesn’t look good. But I’m not going to tell Janine that. I stay silent, forcing more of the bronze liquid in my glass down my throat.
“Your father…did he…suffer before he died?”
I straighten up, shrugging. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there and I wasn’t exactly privy to what was going on in his life.” I stare at the nearly empty glass in my hands. “In fact, he didn’t speak to me once after I joined the military.”
I finish the contents of my glass with a final gulp.
“I’m sorry.”
I feel Janine’s hand on my arm and as I look at her, I find that her expression has changed, the annoyance in her eyes gone and replaced with heartfelt sympathy, the kind only someone who is losing a parent can offer someone who’s lost one.
I set my empty glass down. “Shall we dance?”
I’m not sure why I think of it. Maybe I just want to change the somber mood. Maybe I want to feel her closer so that I can be comforted by her presence and offer her some of my own. Whatever the reason, I offer her my hand.
Janine looks at me with wide eyes but takes my hand. I pull her to the middle of the room then pull her close to me, letting her hand rest on my shoulder as I wrap my arm around her.
We move slowly, silently, our feet shifting every now and then as our bodies sway to the music.
This isn’t the first time. We danced earlier at our wedding reception in front of that huge crowd. This, however, feels more intimate, more real. I close my eyes and cherish the pressure of her fingers on my chest. I lower my chin slightly and inhale the botanical aroma of her hair.
This may as well be our first dance.
I open my eyes and hunt for her gaze, but she avoids making contact. Then her amber eyes flick to mine and I hold them there, drowning in those pools of molten gold.
The other people are gone now, the lounge a dark, empty room. All I can see is her. All I feel is her, her hand on my shoulder, warm breath against my skin, her breasts brushing against my chest, the tips of her hair dancing across my arm.
Our faces are mere inches away now, our lips hovering, hers slightly parted as if she wants to say something, yet no words come out.
I pull her closer, our cheeks touching, the smell of her perfume drifting into my nostrils. I can hear her breathing. I can feel her heartbeat.
There is no need for words now, our bodies communicating as we move as one.
I close my eyes and the music plays on.
* * *
I stare at the ceiling as I lie on the bed in my boxers, the covers pulled up to my bare chest. It’s past midnight and the hotel room is quiet and dark—except for the sound of shower water drumming down on tile, except for that tantalizing little thread of light escaping through the crack beneath the door.
I place my hand over my eyes, sighing. It’s been a long time since a woman got me twisted like this.
I wonder what she’s doing in there.
Damn, I know I should be sleeping. I’m sure Janine will climb into bed and fall immediately to sleep when she gets out of the bathroom. She’s going to be in pajamas and wish me goodnight and turn her back, curling up on her side of the mattress.
But I can’t shake off the memory of that dance in the lounge o
r the feel of Janine’s body against mine, soft and fragrant and every curve perfectly molded against me…
I shake my head.
I can’t keep thinking like that. If I do, I’ll end up wanting more. And I can’t want more. Janine and I may be newlyweds, but our wedding is still a business deal. I already told her sex wasn’t going to be part of her… duties.
But I kind of wish it was now.
Don’t be an asshole, I chastise myself. She’s a modern, red-blooded woman. Not some harem girl…
Then the bathroom door opens, spilling light and steam and the smell of soap into the hotel room.
Janine emerges in a midnight blue negligee, the fabric so thin I can see her black panties beneath it. I can see the sweet halo of her nipples.
My arm falls to my side, my eyes growing wide as I lift my head off the pillow to look at her. And that’s not the only head that’s up and piqued with interest. A tent forms beneath the thick covers.
Fuck.
“Like it?”
Janine gives a whirl, the hem of the negligee lifting to give me a clearer glimpse of her panties—and the high crescent of her perky ass.
“Y-yeah.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
The lump in my boxers won’t go away, though.
Janine traipses to the foot of the bed and climbs onto the mattress on her hands and knees, like a cat stalking and about to pounce. God I’ve got something she can pounce on.
“Maybe I’ll just take it off,” she suggests in a sultry, steady voice.
Before I can answer, Janine grips the tiny bow at the front of her negligee and pulls it open. The sheer fabric falls away like curtains opening and her firm, round breasts come into view.
My mouth gapes, watering.
Janine trails one hand down her slim center, then shrugs off the negligee completely, now wearing nothing but black panties. She flicks the negligee over the side of the bed and creeps toward me.
After straddling my thighs, she peels the blankets down and crawls on top of me. When her face is hovering over mine, she stops, biting her lower lip as her eyes gleam with mischief.
She could just be drunk. Then again, she was drunk the first time we had sex and that went pretty well.