Wedding Date with the Billionaire

by Andrea Bolter

  Another limo ride after landing and, finally, he used his key fob to open his apartment’s door and slipped off his shoes. He’d returned home alone from faraway journeys many an instance but, this time, the clang of loneliness in his apartment was deafening. The verve of Tokyo made its way in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse flat. But that didn’t energize him like it had before. Instead it was a mockery of the city’s promise while he stayed above it all, alone.

  As he sorted through the mail that the housekeeper had neatly stacked for him, the desolation was like a prolonged scream that almost drove him mad. The kitchen had been stocked with all of the groceries he typically ordered, yet they seemed unfamiliar now; he had no connection to them. He searched online and was able to find someone’s low-quality video, no doubt shot on a phone, of the rock band he and Erin had gone to see after the wedding. After they’d made wild love in the limo and before they’d eaten middle-of-the-night breakfast. The guitar chords and persistent drumbeats were the only thing that kept him from breaking down to sob, which was what he felt like doing.

  The next day passed in a fog. Kento visited his parents, who were ensconced at a retirement community just outside the city. They’d eschewed his offer of a deluxe apartment in the city center like his, and it was some measure of comfort to see them well and content. Within the grounds of the facility were walking paths with colorful year-round gardens. He strolled with his mother, Hina, and his father, Matsu, who wanted to hear about the wedding.

  “It was nice to see old friends,” he mused.

  “Did you spend time with Erin?” Hina asked, getting to the center of the matter as mothers had a knack for. He’d never told them what had happened when he first came to Tokyo to work for Uncle Riku, only explaining that he and Erin had parted after realizing they were on different paths. He didn’t want them to know the disappointment he’d suffered. And caused.

  “Yes, we worked well together as best man and maid of honor.”

  “You’ve never forgotten her, have you?”

  “Water under the bridge, as they say.”

  “I don’t think so, son. I can see it in your eyes.”

  To that, his father smiled. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

  “You’ll be thirty soon. We couldn’t be prouder of your accomplishments. But something has always told me—” Hina brought her fist to her chest and tapped “—that Erin is why you’ve never met a woman to settle down with.”

  “What’s the point of anything without love?” Matsu added.

  After their walk he prolonged the hugs goodbye, taking that extra moment to cherish them.

  Later at the office, marketing for the Fastracc program was on schedule. But Kento wasn’t, and he knew it. That night he walked aimlessly through Roppongi, where the streets were filled with an international crowd. But he couldn’t dodge his own shadow.

  At home, he stared at the dream catcher he’d brought back from the wedding. Holding it this way or that to observe the shadows beaming through the weblike threads. Questioning if shards of light, of energy, really had any power to affect dreams. And, if they did, begging them to stop tormenting him with sweet visions of him and Erin, hand in hand, walking through the blooming of Japan’s celebrated cherry blossom trees, in a bliss that had become their reality. Had Erin taken her dream catcher home from Willminson Island, or discarded it as a disposable party favor that held no meaning? He knew he’d keep his forever.

  Every minute that went by, he missed Erin more, not less. The next morning he rode his motorcycle to the hiking trails and natural beauty of peaceful Okutama, one of his favorite places outside the city. A destination he’d hoped to show Erin, because he thought she would appreciate it. Although today, he could hardly notice the sights around him because his senses were filled to the brim. With Erin. How much they laughed. That fragrant sandy-colored hair that he could bury his face in. The arch of her spine when he thrust closer and closer to her as their bodies joined in divine mating. The way they could just be together, sometimes quiet, bonding one another to the earth and to each other.

  How could he have done the same thing to her a second time? Leave without confronting her, asking her, begging her, to choose him. After agreeing that they’d see each other again soon, maybe this time with him by her side she might have been able to stand up for what was fair. Instead he’d bolted again, convincing himself that was in her best interest. What if he was wrong, and he’d stolen from both of them the chance they had to start from here?

  His parents were right. What was the point of anything without love? Somehow he had to right all of the wrongs. This couldn’t be how things ended—with him sitting alone on his empty black leather sofa way up in the sky.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONCE SHE AND her luggage were inside the Spokane town house, Erin shut the door behind her. Eyes panning left to right, it was as if she’d never been there before. Blech. It was as ugly as could be, ornamental and overdone, a ridiculously large staircase with wrought-iron railing and a carpet runner eating up the space. In a historic property, the rail would have been done in a fine wood, with the stairs made of marble. The town house was built a mere five years ago, in a supposedly traditional style that managed to be only drab.

  With that staircase it was no wonder that Harris left her, she thought, knowing she was being sarcastic even to herself. Kento would have laughed at that. He might have been the only one who would have. That was one of the things she loved about him, that they could share a dark humor. The anguish of the morning replayed itself over and over again as she contemplated the antique Victorian vases that adorned the foyer table, again like this was the first time she was seeing them. The whole room was a bore. The Barclay empire could do with hiring some new decorators. Not that anything to do with her family was a concern of hers anymore. The tiny twinkling in her gut that wanted to rejoice in the fact that she’d finally set herself loose from them was squashed, because without Kento the turn of events was more bitter than sweet.

  Exhausted from the journey—the van to the ferry to the car service to the airport to the taxi home after the flight—she was hungry and thirsty. Making her way to the gourmet kitchen that she and Harris had rarely used, she opened the fridge to find that the housekeeper had stocked it with food and beverages. For some reason that annoyed her, maybe because Erin hadn’t asked her to. She was quite capable of going to a market and buying her own food. Something she was looking forward to doing for the rest of her life.

  Nonetheless, she needed to eat before she could just go upstairs to bed and wake up to her new and uncertain life tomorrow. While the microwave heated up the pasta and vegetables she selected, she flicked on the television for company. And barely glanced at it as she chomped the meal just to be done with it.

  In her bedroom, she opened her luggage. Spotting the violet maid of honor gown, she sniggered. The dress had been through a lot. Not just the wedding ceremony and reception. That piece of purple satin had ridden up the elevator of the Space Needle. Had happily spent time on the floor of the limo while she and Kento were engaged in an activity that required a different dress code—an undress code. Then the gown arrived overdressed to hear a rock band. And finally to eat a predawn breakfast before it finally got a few hours’ sleep on the chair beside the bed in Kento’s cabin.

  Inspecting it now, she saw the hem had become soiled and frayed, no doubt from getting in and out of the limo on the wet city curbs. There was a stain on the bodice. Erin vaguely recalled spilling some coffee at the diner. And there was a bit of a tear on the side under the arm. Had Kento been overeager when he took it off her in the black-windowed privacy of the limo ride? It thrilled her to think so. What would she do, have the gown cleaned and mended? That seemed absurd. It wasn’t as if she’d ever wear it again. One thing was for sure, though. She was not going to throw it away.

  As she shuffled through her toi
letries to get ready for bed, another reminder she’d brought home caught her eye. It was from the rehearsal dinner when they’d seen the show about Native American history. She held the dream catcher up by the loop that the guests were told could be used to hang it above their beds. The beads were weighty and the feathers smooth. Had Kento taken his back to Japan with him, or thrown it out as a meaningless party favor?

  What dreams would that catcher bring now? What was to become of her? Not sorry that she’d walked out of her cruel parents’ grip, the fact remained that she was a single twenty-eight-year-old with no sure future. Once she packed up here, there was nothing for her in Spokane. Would she return to Seattle? The wedding crowd and their lives there had been hers, the overprivileged offspring their families raised them to be. Without her parents, she didn’t belong in that world anymore. She was no longer their kind of people. There was nowhere Erin could call home.

  Adding self-pity to the mash-up of emotions that swirled within her, she knew she had to do this alone. Reinventing herself would be not just easier with support, but this weekend she’d come to realize that everything was so much more fulfilling when shared with someone, partnered with someone. In life and in love. Not just anyone, she corrected herself. The someone. Two go-rounds, and yet she still ended up without him!

  Kento, Kento, Kento, Kento, her brain chanted.

  Please, she begged the dream catcher she clutched like her life depended on it as she crawled into bed. Let me at least dream about him.

  Waking up in the morning after a fitful but dreamless sleep, Erin showered, dressed and had breakfast. In the clear light of day, she made a list of what she needed to do. Moving out of this awful town house was the first order of business. Someone else could deal with Harris’s things; she didn’t care who. She’d carry the love and loss of Kento with her for the rest of her days on earth. But not of party boy Harris, or of the other Mr. Wrongs she’d dated. They’d be easy to put behind her.

  In the basement looking for boxes to pack up with, she found one that she’d stashed away because it was filled with private mementos from her university years. Carrying it up to the living room, she placed it beside one of the ornate wooden-framed sofas on the Persian rug. Not remembering where anything was kept, she riffled through a couple of drawers in the desk before she found a pair of scissors to cut through the tape sealing the box. Sitting down, she began sorting through its contents.

  A couple of old sports uniforms padded the top. Followed by some trophies and certificates. Framed photos of club events. Nothing of great recognition or importance to her. In fact, she had no idea why she’d saved them. But as soon as her eyes made contact with the next item, the hairs on her arms stood on end. It was an album of photos she’d printed back then. Of her and Kento.

  Tears quickly filled her eyes as she turned back the cover to see the first page. With arms around each other, they both had smiles on their faces. Kento wore shirtsleeves but with a tie, and she had on a lot of makeup. Without thinking twice, her fingertips trailed across Kento’s thick hair and then his full lips.

  Alternating between turning the pages and hugging the album to her chest, sobs erupted from her. The two of them barefoot at the beach. Dressed as superheroes for a Halloween party, a sneaky, sexy smile on his face. In caps and gowns on graduation day. The clarity was as bright as a sunny day. She loved Kento with all of her heart and always had. Always. Had. Since the very first day when they met in that philosophy class.

  They’d been named partners, assigned to a project that required meeting several evenings at one of the campus libraries. He’d bring tangerines from his parents’ store that they’d eat sitting on the stone ledge outside once they’d finished their work for the night. Conversation flowed easily—they finished each other’s sentences. He wasn’t like the people she’d been surrounded by, closed-minded and always measuring what others thought. Kento had big opinions and even bigger ideas, never censoring himself. And once he sneaked a kiss under the lamppost after a stimulating night of exchanging theories, they became inseparable. As they should be.

  In an instant, agony turned angry. How could he have walked out on her again? He’d professed his love but hadn’t given her the time to make her move. He refused to have faith in her. For the second time! Of course, she understood that he assumed her parents would get what they wanted in the end—after all, he didn’t yet know she was ready to leave holding his hand. Did he think he was doing her some kind of favor by simply abandoning her again? How could he have not comprehended that was the last thing she needed?

  Oh, was she going to give him a piece of her mind! Read him the riot act! And not over the phone or text or email, either. If she had to be the one to step up, fine. So be it. This was life or death as far as she was concerned. Nothing could be more worth fighting for. And so much time had already been wasted. He’d soon see what she was made of. The marching orders had come.

  She knew what she needed to do and sprang into action. Swapping out the maid of honor outfits, soiled gown included, Erin repacked her suitcase with clean clothes and called for a driver.

  * * *

  Narita Airport was bright and bustling when Erin deplaned after the long flight from Seattle. It stunned her to step foot on solid ground after arrival, to believe that she was really here. Without talking herself out of it, she’d simply booked and boarded a flight to Tokyo. Unfinished business at the wedding weekend had prompted her to go, even when phone calls to discuss her plan went unanswered. In the boldest move she had ever made, she traveled alone to this mighty city across the Pacific on a mission to get what she could no longer live without.

  She’d spent the flight studying the Japanese language lessons she’d downloaded before leaving. Sure, she’d only remember a couple of basic words, but at least it was a start. Airport signs for the baggage claim and ground transportation were written in Japanese and in English, some in Chinese and Korean as well. With their help, she was easily able to locate her luggage and get a taxi.

  A mixture of exhilaration and fear greeted her when the cab dropped her off in front of the hotel she’d reserved in the busy Shibuya ward. She stood for a moment on the street, hardly able to comprehend the scene. The crowds at Shibuya Crossing were massive, the intersection far bigger than Times Square in New York. Tens of thousands of people trod through every day. It was nicknamed the Scramble, and she understood why. Businesses were bustling. Building exteriors were stacked with flickering ads, giant video screens and so many lights—more than the eye could even take in. The pulse of the entire area was pounding. Erin had never seen anything like it.

  Entering her hotel, she was greeted with bows by the welcome desk staff. Erin knew there were specific rituals regarding the practice of bowing she’d need to learn, but a tourist could get away with a nod of the head and still be considered polite. “Konnichiwa. Hello,” one of the staff members said to her as she handed over her identification and credit card.

  Her room was decorated with tasteful earth tones. Recessed lighting on a dimmer gave options, and the minimalist room had been nicely divided into work and sleep space. It was afternoon, and Erin planned to spend the day getting acclimated before beginning her business in the morning. That business being taking her place next to the man she loved.

  But knowing she was in the same city as him now, she couldn’t wait any longer. When she tapped into her phone, the call to Kento went straight to voice mail, as had the two she’d tried before leaving Washington. It was disappointing and alarming that there was no reply. Maybe he hadn’t received the messages. The phone number he’d given her had a Seattle area code—perhaps he was only using that one for the wedding and didn’t check the voice mail. She’d hoped not to have to get anyone in Seattle involved, but she’d call Lucas tomorrow if she had to. Another very logical consideration dawned on her. He could have heard her messages and decided not to respond. When he made up his mind about s
omething, he acted on it. Conviction—yet another thing she loved about him.

  She’d known what she was doing by getting on that plane. He’d told her that he loved her and she hadn’t assured him that she did, too, in return. She needed to say it in person. There was nothing to lose now except him, and she wasn’t going to let that piece of her past repeat itself. He might not be good at goodbye, but Erin was going to give him one heck of a hello. As many hellos as it took, as a matter of fact.

  Restless, she left her hotel to explore the busy streets. Shops, restaurants, nightclubs and bars took up every bit of space. She wandered a bit away from the commercial blocks thronged with humans, curious to see where residents lived and to begin to envision a life in this city. Weaving this way and that, she found a city park, tranquil green space that was a quiet oasis from the throb. The small park was rimmed by private homes, single-family residences as opposed to the many high-rises and apartment buildings.

  The For Sale sign written in several languages in front of one of the properties caught her eye. Punching the Realtor’s code that was provided into her phone, she learned that the two-story wooden home had been built in 1924. At twenty-five hundred square feet, it would be considered large for the populated inner-city neighborhood. The architecture of the simple home was beautiful, and the adjacent park was a huge asset. Erin wondered if the little germ of interest she’d always had in historic properties could grow here—a possibility she’d never considered.

  After wandering for hours, she was hungry. Near her hotel were many restaurants that offered menus in English or with photos of the food so that a visitor need only point to what they wanted. She had the freshest assortment of sushi she’d ever tasted and watched from a window table as the city went by.

  This was already the riskiest thing she’d ever done, flying halfway across the world toward complete uncertainty. But this was her now, one way or another. Although she refused to acknowledge a future without Kento, her life was finally starting. It was scary. She accepted that.