by Beth Merlin
Poor guy, he was still at work burning the midnight oil, while I was getting pissed at a bar with my sister. Suddenly, I had the most brilliant idea of how to make it up to him. I sprang out of my chair and over to where Merritt was standing in line for the bathroom.
“Can I cut in front of you? Please.”
“Seriously?”
“Otherwise, I’m going to have to go all the way to the back of the line. I don’t think I can hold it.”
“Damn lesbian bars, you’d think they’d build them with at least two ladies’ rooms. Fine, go ahead,” Merritt said, crossing her arms.
I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, sis.”
I pushed past her and into the bathroom, where I locked the door. I lifted my shirt, and before I could second-guess myself, I took a topless selfie and sent it off to Sam. The photo was so out of character for me, I could only imagine his response. I sat down on the top of the toilet seat and waited for his reaction. A few seconds later, my phone pinged. I tapped open his text and gasped.
A dick pic? He sent me a dick pic from his office? Where? How? I thought he’d write back something like “wow” or “sexy.” I was not expecting a dick pic . . . but, considering our recent dry spell, it was kind of exciting.
Merritt pounded on the door. “Any day now, Joanna. There are like a hundred angry women in line to use the bathroom.”
“One sec,” I called back. I took one last look at the picture, then slid the phone into my pocket. Maybe I’d skip Boot Camp in the morning? It’d only be my first strike. Sam wasn’t going in to work. We could stay in bed all morning before meeting Merritt and Naomi for brunch. It’d been months since we’d last had sex. I chalked it up to schedules and work and wedding stress, but maybe if we could steal some time tomorrow, we could get things back on track?
I came out, and Merritt practically knocked me over as she rushed past me and into the bathroom. “I’ll be over by the bar,” I yelled to her before she closed the door.
I rummaged around my pocket for change and plunked it into the jukebox. Running my finger down the song list, I landed on an old favorite, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing,” and pressed play. I pushed my way to the bar and ordered us a round of Patron Silver.
Merritt came out of the bathroom and spotted me. She pointed to the jukebox and mouthed, “Was that you?”
I nodded, and she gave me a big thumbs-up as she squeezed her way to the bar. She sidled up to me, and I passed her the Tequila shot.
“What about bridal Boot Camp in the morning?” she asked.
I thought about Sam and the sexy picture now burning a hole in my pocket and my imagination. “I think I can skip it, just this once.”
Chapter Four
Benji was less than five inches away from my face, counting off push-ups. He was so close that with each lift of my body, I was sure he was getting sprayed with my sweat. I closed my eyes and prayed he couldn’t smell the alcohol that was almost certainly mixed with the perspiration.
“You got this, Joanna, just four more,” he urged.
My arms were visibly shaking. “I don’t think I can do this, Benji,” I said through clenched teeth.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand? You killed it on Bruiseday Tuesday. Do you remember what the towel you got last class said?”
“Buff bride,” I answered.
“That’s right. It didn’t say lazy bride or full of excuses bride. It said buff bride. Do you want to be a buff bride, Jo?”
“I do,” I mumbled.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I do.”
Benji turned to the mat next to us. “Becca, can you hear your friend?”
Becca was struggling with her remit of one hundred crunches. She sat up. “No, Benji.”
Benji blew his whistle and then asked again, “Joanna, do you want to be a buff bride?”
“I DO!”
He patted my back and stood up. “Nice work. Keep it up, and the next time you enthusiastically shout out I do you’ll be at your wedding and your goal weight.”
I finished the push-ups and took a swig of water. The room was spinning. Using the wall as a crutch, I stood up, the tequila shots from last night still sloshing around in my stomach.
After I had decided to miss Boot Camp in the morning, Merritt and I had stayed at the Cubbyhole until almost 2:00 am. She ran into her ex-girlfriend, Natalie, who bought us a few rounds of shots while we all caught up. Natalie was a heavy partier too. It was the reason she and Merritt ultimately broke up. In all these years, it seemed little had changed. Every time we tried to leave, Natalie ordered a few more drinks, and we both ended up stumbling out of the bar much later than we planned.
Even so, Sam still wasn’t home when I got back to our apartment. I kicked off my shoes and ended up passing out in my clothes, completely forgetting to switch off my morning alarm. Just two and a half hours later, my phone was buzzing and vibrating, the words Benji’s Boot Camp scrolling across the screen. I pulled the phone close to my face and moaned. My head was pounding, and my mouth was bone dry. It had been a while since I’d been this hungover, my tolerance having taken a steep nosedive during these last few months of trying to reign it in.
Peeking over the covers, I saw Sam sleeping soundly beside me. I rolled back over, buried my head under the pillow, and tried to fall back asleep. Ten minutes later, I was still awake. The guilt of missing Benji’s Boot Camp slowly started to creep in, and once it fully took hold, I couldn’t seem to shake it. Plus, I promised Sam I’d behave with Merritt and didn’t want the lecture he was sure to give me if he found out how late I’d stayed out drinking with her.
Sam let out a low, deep snore and sank deeper into the comforter. He was out cold. I reasoned that if I left now, I could be back before he ever realized I’d been gone. We could still spend the morning in bed, and he’d be none the wiser about my antics last night. I tiptoed out of the apartment and got to the gym just as the doors were closing.
Sixty torturous minutes later, Becca found me refilling my thermos by the water fountain. She popped open a Tupperware of hard-boiled eggs and took a bite out of one. I felt my face turn a grayish shade of green. Becca caught sight of me and stopped chewing.
“I know, every day, we eat the same things. Egg whites, grilled chicken, kale. I have a serious case of déjà food.”
I laughed. “No, it’s not that,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m hungover.”
She put her hands over her mouth. “You are? You never drink.”
“Oh, I drink. I just cut back considerably when I started Boot Camp. As you can see, Benji and tequila don’t mix.”
“God, what would Benji say if he knew? His star student.”
“What’s his line? ‘A hangover is your body’s way of reminding you that you’re an idiot.’ And you know what, he’d be right. I’m feeling every ounce of that idiocy right now.”
“Well, it was for a good cause, right? You and Sam were long overdue for a night out on the town.”
“Sam was stuck at the office. I went out with my sister.”
Becca slowly closed the lid to the Tupperware. “You and Sam didn’t go out last night?”
“No. With taking today and tomorrow off, he was there pretty late finishing up some stuff. Why?”
“I must’ve misunderstood something Evan said—no biggie. What’s on tap for today?”
“We’re meeting my sister and her family at Norma’s for brunch, and after that, she’s coming with me for my first wedding dress fitting.”
Becca clapped her hands together. “So exciting!”
“I just hope the dress fits.”
Becca took my hand and spun me around. “Look at that rockin’ bod—it’ll fit.”
I snuck back into our apartment and crept down the hallway, expecting to find Sam still sound asleep in our bed. Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his socks and shoes.
I set my water bottle down on the dresser. “What ar
e you doing? Why are you getting dressed?”
“I have to go to the office.”
I took a few steps toward him. “I thought you took the rest of the week off?”
“I’m drowning in work, Joanna. We’re about to close a deal I’ve been on since October.” He looked up. “Were you and Merritt out drinking last night?”
I sat down next to him on the corner of the bed. “Merritt ran into an old girlfriend at the Cubbyhole. We ended up staying out later than I planned.”
“Jo, you promised.”
“I went to Boot Camp this morning. I couldn’t have gone if I was that hungover.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “Do you really have to go to the office? Can’t somebody else fill in for you, just this once?”
He stood up and turned around, so we were standing face-to-face. “Please, give me just a few more days to wrap things up.”
“But we have brunch plans with Merritt and Naomi. You still haven’t met your soon-to-be nephew.”
He took my hands into his. “You have your first dress fitting today, right?”
I nodded.
“I wasn’t going with you guys to the wedding salon anyway.” He brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “How ’bout this? Why don’t you have brunch like you planned and then go to the fitting. By the time you’re done with all that, I should be finishing up my calls and can meet up with everyone for dinner. We talked about all this. I’m paying my dues now, so that when we have a family I’ll be in a position with more flexibility. I’m doing all of this for us. You know that, right?”
I leaned into his chest. “I know. I just miss you.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m right here, kid.”
I smiled and snuggled in a little deeper. Kid, his affectionate nickname for me since high school, when he got a ton of blowback for dating a lowly freshman. His much “cooler” senior friends started calling me Joanna Kid instead of Joanna Kitt, and like any good nickname, it stuck.
“I’m getting sweat all over your Brooks Brothers tie,” I said, wrenching away.
He pulled me back into his arms. “These days, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
I looked up into his big brown eyes. “We haven’t had much time for us lately.”
“After the wedding, I promise.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Half the places we’re staying on our honeymoon don’t even have WIFI, so like it or not, I intend to have your full and undivided attention.”
He cracked a mischievous smile. “Oh, you’ll have all of my attention, kid.”
I looked him up and down. Maybe because I’d seen Sam transition from teenage boy to grown man, there was something extra sexy about seeing him dressed up in his business suit complete with a pocket square, heading off to work. His light wavy hair was slicked back and off his clean-shaven face, which was topped off with the most perfect pair of tortoise-rimmed glasses.
“I should go shower. Are you positively sure you can’t join me?”
He bit his bottom lip and picked up his briefcase. “Tempting, but I can’t.”
I handed him his phone from off the nightstand. “Here, don’t forget your phone.”
He looked down. “That’s your phone. Mine’s right here,” he said, patting his pocket.
We’d both used the same photo from our New York Times engagement announcement as our screen savers, causing some recent phone confusion. I made a mental note to switch my picture.
“You know, tomorrow’s our yes date, and like it or not, you have to agree to everything I say,” I teased.
The corners of his eyes crinkled with delight. “Oh, I know. I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”
Chapter Five
The receptionist at the bridal salon directed us downstairs to alterations. Merritt took the tiny elevator with Alec and his stroller, while Naomi and I walked down the flight of stairs.
“I cannot wait to see your gown in person. The photos you sent were gorgeous, and I’m sure they don’t even do the dress justice,” Naomi said.
“I hope so. It’s the most money I have ever spent on anything for myself in my entire life, and that was with the trunk show discount.”
Merritt was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs with Alec and one of the salon’s seamstresses.
“Which one of you is the bride?” she asked.
I raised my hand.
“Wonderful. I’m Sylvia. Nice to meet you.” She motioned us down the corridor. “Come with me. We have you all set up in the far dressing room.”
We followed her down the long, narrow hall of maroon curtains, until we came to the last one.
“Did you bring shoes and the undergarment you’re planning to wear that day?” Sylvia asked.
I pulled out a pair of white satin Louboutins I’d bought on one of those resale consignment websites and a cream-colored lacy bustier.
Sylvia pointed to some chairs outside the changing room. “Your guests can sit here, while I help you into the gown, and then we’ll do a full reveal.”
Merritt and Naomi took their seats and even turned Alec’s stroller around to face the curtain.
I followed Sylvia into the dressing room, where the gown was hanging in a garment bag on a high hook. Sylvia popped up on her toes to unzip the bag.
“There she is. What do you think? Do you still love it?” she asked.
I covered my mouth with my hand and inhaled deeply. “I think I love the dress even more than I did when I bought it.”
“Good, that’s exactly what we like to hear. I’ll step out for a moment, so you can get into the bustier. Give me a shout when you’re ready, and I’ll zip you into the gown.”
Sylvia ducked past the curtain and out of the room, while I took a few steps closer to examine the dress. It was exquisite. A blush organza gown with full tulle skirt, antique silver beading embellishments, cap sleeves, fitted bodice, and open back. The dress was dreamy and romantic and exactly what I’d imagined myself walking down the aisle to Sam in. It was the first and only dress I tried on, and the minute the zipper closed, I knew it was the one. I slid the bustier on and called for Sylvia to come back into the changing room to help me into the dress.
A few moments later we opened the curtain for the big reveal. I did a full turn in my spot. “What does everyone think?”
Naomi jumped out of her seat first. “God, the workmanship on this dress is incredible. Who’s the designer again?”
I smoothed down the tulle. “It’s a Georgica Goldstein. I never in a million years thought I could afford one of her gowns, but between this being a sample dress and the trunk show discount, I was able to make it work.”
Naomi raised her eyebrows. “Georgica Goldstein? The designer of Princess Victoria’s dress?”
I nodded.
“It’s gorgeous, Jo. Really.”
I glanced over at Merritt, who was being uncharacteristically quiet.
“Mer, what do you think?”
“It’s a beautiful gown, Joey.”
Sylvia came around to the front of the curtain. “The dress is much too big on her, that may be what’s throwing you. When we take it in on the sides like this,” she said, pinning the material, “the effect is very different.”
Sylvia continued pinning the dress in several different spots, to take away some of the excess material. When she was finished, she stood back to admire her work.
I twisted my torso in the corset. “It feels so much better.”
Sylvia stepped back and away from the pedestal. “There, now you’re wearing the dress, it isn’t wearing you.”
I turned to my sister. “Merritt?”
“It’s an absolutely stunning dress, but I’m not sure it’s really you.”
I blinked hard. That was not at all the reaction I was expecting.
She continued, “It’s so formal and so . . . I don’t know, poofy. It’s not really what I was picturing.”
I caught Naomi shooting Merritt what could only
be described as a death stare. “What were you picturing?”
“Something more vibrant. More fun, maybe?”
“It’s my wedding, not a New Year’s Eve party.” I turned to face the mirror. “Besides, I think Sam would love me in this dress.”
Merritt stood up and put her arm around me. She tilted her head and scanned my reflection up and down. “I’m sorry, I should’ve kept my big, stupid mouth shut. I don’t know what I’m talking about. The dress is amazing. You look amazing.”
Sylvia clapped her hands together, breaking the tension in the room. “We’ll see you back in about two weeks. It’ll take a bit of time to finish the alterations. Someone from the salon will call you to schedule an appointment once we’re done.”
“Before you get changed, I have something for you,” Merritt said.
Naomi stood up and handed Merritt the shopping bag that had been hanging from the handles of Alec’s stroller. Merritt opened it up and delicately pulled out a wedding veil.
“I searched Dad’s house high and low for this,” she said.
“Mom’s wedding veil? I thought it got misplaced when Dad moved to the condo?”
“I think he didn’t have the heart to look through Mom’s things, so I offered to do it.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
Merritt slipped the comb into my hair. “The veil really suits the dress.”
I turned to face her. “Merritt, does Dad know you’re here?” I repeated.
“He does.”
“And he still won’t come to the wedding?’
“We’re working on it,” Naomi said, chiming in.
“He wants to Jo, let’s just give it a little more time.” She picked up the veil and held it up to the dress. “Everything’s right except the color. I’m not sure how I feel about a blush-colored dress and a stark white veil.”
Sylvia lifted the veil to get a closer look at the trim. “We may be able to dye it. Leave it here—let me see what we can do.”
I smiled, pulled the comb out of my hair, and twisted the veil around my arm. “If not, I’ll still have time to order the matching one, right?”