by Sara Celi
I placed my hand on the sink edge to steady myself. “Are you ready?” I called to James through the bathroom door. Because I needed the makeup mirror and the outlet for my hair straightener, I’d taken the bathroom to get ready, while James used the main part of the room.
“Yep, ready,” he answered. “Feel free to come out any time.”
After one more glace at my makeup, I took my black snakeskin clutch off the counter, and stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
What I saw next caught my breath in my throat.
James stood by the paisley-patterned chair in the corner of the room. He wore a pair of black pants, a crisp white shirt, black loafers, and a black velvet dinner jacket. The lines and cut of the clothing made him appear thinner, taller, and highlighted his fine features.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
I gaped at him. “T—th—thanks.”
“What?” He looked down at his outfit. “Is this okay?”
Understatement of the year.
“It … it’s great.” I shook my head. “No, it’s perfect.”
He smoothed the left jacket pocket. “Good, because I didn’t pack another suit besides the tuxedo.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “Do you think I need a different tie? Want to make the right impression. Remember how your cousin treated you earlier? We’ve got to bring it for round two.”
We. This beautiful man, mine for the weekend, was team Margot. We’ve got to bring it for round two. Careful, James Newhouse, you’re becoming way too special to me.
“We will.”
He smiled. “Then let’s go.”
Leaving the room, we walked to the elevator at the end of the long hallway. We rode it to the first floor in silence. When the doors opened to the lobby, we stepped out of it in time to see my mother and father near the check-in desk.
“Margot, there you are,” Mom called. A couple at the hotel registry turned as she said my name. “We were just about to call your room and have you come down.”
With a nod to the attendant, she glided across the marble floor. She and Dad the proceeded to greet us, and when I reached my mother, she clasped me in one of her signature hugs—too tight and too long.
“Good to see you too, Mom,” I said against her shoulder. When she released me, I got a good look at her face, which had been pulled and tightened into submission since the last time I saw her.
She gave James a sideways glance. “And you must be the young man we’ve heard so much about.” She extended her hot pink-lacquered fingers. “James Newhouse, right?”
“That’s right,” he said then clasped her fingertips and kissed them. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And you work at a gallery?” She smiled at James, but she didn’t show her teeth. “So, you’re an artist.”
My father grunted. My heart beat a little faster. James kept his expression unreadable.
“Yes, that’s what we heard from Julie. That you’re a bit of a bohemian,” Dad muttered. He had certain “opinions” about artists, and they weren’t good ones.
“Oh, he’s not an artist. Not in the way you might think.” I placed my hand on James’s arm. “He’s the owner of the gallery, and it’s one of the most popular places in town.”
“She’s being generous,” James said. “I do own Gallery 29, but it’s anyone’s guess if it’s the most popular in Cincinnati. We have plenty of fierce competition.”
Dad raised one bushy eyebrow but kept the rest of his face expressionless. “Surely you know what your margin of profitability is in comparison to your competitors in the area.”
Oh, God. Once Dad got started on a conversation like this, it was often hard for him to stop. I braced myself for this to go disastrously wrong. Dad loved to bait people he thought didn’t match him in intellect.
“We do know those stats, and we’re certainly profitable,” James replied. “But I don’t try to make too many undue comparisons. I want to focus on what we do well first. And, if you’re in town sometime, you should visit the gallery. We’d love to have you.”
With that, James covered his free hand with mine, before he flashed my parents and me a large grin.
A pulse of heat pushed through me. How did I get so lucky to find a guy like this one? He was almost perfect, and that, that had to be impossible, didn’t it? It didn’t make any sense. Men like him didn’t exist. They weren’t good-looking, charming, single, kind, and possibly attracted to me simultaneously.
This had to be some sort of mistake.
“Hmm. Interesting.” My father blinked at us for a beat then made a sweeping gesture with his right hand. “Well, on that note, shall we? We have a rehearsal to get to.”
He led us though the hotel then outside to the lawn beside the hotel’s main pool. The staff already had chairs and the altar set for the wedding, and a few of them scurried about making final changes and modifications. Gold, pink, and white, Julie’s chosen color scheme, dominated the space in an array of floral stands, bunting, and gauze. Near the altar stood my cousin, Julie, and her fiancé, Trip, talking with the minister. A few of her closest friends milled around in the same area, waiting for instructions as they wasted time on their phones and took selfies from angles above their heads.
My parents sat in a back row, but I hung back and studied the tableau happening in front of me. This wasn’t the kind of wedding I would have chosen, but it fit Julie perfectly. It was about as outlandish as her personality, and it screamed “new-money-trying-very-hard-to-be-old.”
James turned to me. “Aren’t you a bridesmaid, or something?”
“No.” I laughed without humor. “I’m giving a reading.”
He recoiled. “But she sent you a dress to wear.”
“Because she’s psycho about the photos looking exactly right. It’s all about Instagram.” Then I shot him a knowing look. “Giving a reading is the kind of duty a bride gives her ‘other’ best friend or the cousin she doesn’t really want in most of the photos.”
Which was me. It had always been me.
“Wow, harsh,” James breathed. “No wonder you didn’t want to come to this.”
I leaned closer to him. “You’re right, I didn’t want to come at first, but it isn’t turning out so bad.”
“I’d like to think that’s because of me.” He touched his chest. “Consider me your secret advantage in the Basic Bitch Olympics.”
“With you on my side, how can I lose?” We both laughed, and my heart fluttered again.
The minister called us to attention, then he led the group through the service, and the entire wedding party practiced entering and exiting the venue several times. Since I had a limited role, I stayed in the back until the minister requested I approach a small podium to the left of the altar. I read my poem, pretended to be happy for my cousin, and sent up a silent thank you when the minister dismissed us for dinner.
The wedding party filed off the lawn and into the pavilion gallery, a bright room with blue and white scripted wallpaper, gold curtains, and gilded chandeliers. Staffers had arranged the circular tables for ten guests, and each had a large centerpiece of blue hydrangeas. I searched the room for our place cards; James and I took our seats at a table in the corner of the room, which gave us a view of the central table for the bridal party.
A fleet of staff entered the room with the soup course.
James leaned toward me. “I think this is the fanciest wedding I’ve ever attended, and we aren’t even at the main event yet.”
A server placed bowls of clam chowder in front of us.
“It’s all very Julie.” I motioned to the room, which was slowly filling up with extra guests that hadn’t been part of the main rehearsal. “Very ornate. Very scripted. This has her name written all over it.”
“I can tell.” He eyed the bride and groom, who were taking their own seats at the center table. “How many guests did she invite to this dinner?”
I surveyed the room. “Fifty? Sixty? I was just thinking—”
<
br /> “That you’re glad to see me?”
The sound of that voice made me freeze. I would have recognized it anywhere, and while I had expected to hear it sometime during the weekend, I hadn’t realized I’d hear it so soon.
I turned in its direction.
“Nick,” I said slowly. “How are you?”
My ex-boyfriend grinned. “Perfect, Margot.” He motioned to a pair of empty seats across the table from James and me. “According to the layout, I’m seated at this table too.”
I almost choked. “What? You are?”
“Table seven.” He glanced at his watch. “Looks like I’m a little late, since they’re already serving the first course. You know how airports can be. Flight was delayed two hours, and I couldn’t get to Palm Beach fast enough.” He moved to the open seat, and I noticed he’d come to the rehearsal dinner alone.
“Wait. Are you by yourself?”
“I am.” He studied me. “Are you happy about that?”
“No,” I insisted. I don’t give a damn. “I don’t care. In fact, this is my date.” I turned to James. “James Newhouse.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nick mumbled.
I stared at him, taking him in, and I had to admit that Nick looked better than I remembered. He’d lost weight and looked like he’d been getting plenty of exercise. And he was still roguishly handsome, but in a different way than James. In a dangerous way.
A waiter filled my wine glass with Chardonnay, and I gulped a large swig of it the instant he moved to the next guest.
“It’s too bad that you’re not glad to see me, but in a way, I guess I expected that.” Nick sat in the empty chair across from me, and his gaze locked with mine. “Also, not that you would claim to care, but it didn’t work out between Amanda and me. We wanted different things, and it got complicated.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I muttered under my breath, feeling my annoyance at his presence grow. How did I not prepare for seeing him again? And why the hell had Julie seated us together at the rehearsal dinner? Stupid question. Of course she would do that.
And it then only took a few seconds for the montage of Nick and Margot to come back to me. The pain, heartache, attraction, and hardship I’d endured during my relationship with Nick hit me like a tsunami wave. I lost my appetite and pushed the soup away. Then I guzzled more wine.
Anything to take off the edge.
“You look great,” Nick placed his napkin in his lap. “Different haircut?” He cocked his head. “Nope, that’s not it. You’ve lost weight.”
“Thirty pounds since you last saw me,” I crowed.
“Well, it suits you. A lot.”
“I’m sorry,” James said. “I hate to interrupt”—he turned to me— “but who is this? A friend?”
“Oh, well, Nick is …” I managed, before giving myself a silent kick. I shouldn’t let Nick throw me off like this. I knew better. “He’s …”
Except I didn’t know what to add. The man who broke my heart? The one person I’d ever told I loved? The one whose love both renewed and killed me? The best and the worst thing to happen to me?
“Margot and I have known each other for a long time,” Nick supplied. “We go way back.”
“You might say that,” I said, and finished off the rest of my wine. As I did, another server appeared to refill the glass. Washing down the second glass in a quick swoop tempted me, but I resisted. I didn’t want to lose control.
Not yet.
“Um,” James said quietly so only I would hear. I turned to him and was surprised at the intensity in his gaze. “You and Nick …” He gestured between us covertly.
“It’s a long story. Long over-with story.”
At that he smiled and seemed to relax. I didn’t miss how his arm snaked around the back of my chair, as if he knew I needed claiming or something here. He really was an enigma. How could one man be so insightful?
Our table made small talk through the soup and salad courses, and I did my best to not focus on Nick. I didn’t allow myself to make eye contact with him or engage in any conversation deeper than remarking on the taste and consistency of the food. Better to stay disengaged. I knew that, but I also found myself unable to ignore the memories.
The way it had felt to kiss him for the first time. The night in Central Park when he’d claimed he’d love me forever. The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach when I’d known it was over.
Just as the staff served the surf and turf main entrée, I couldn’t take it anymore. No one should have to endure this kind of torture at her cousin’s wedding.
“Excuse me,” I told James. “I’ll be right back.”
With a flourish, I got out of my seat, made my way out of the banquet hall, and stumbled through the lobby. I needed air, so I headed to the outdoor bar and the pool on the side of the property. My chest pounded, and I felt the beginning of a headache. I found the nearest open bench and sank into it.
Damn Nick for having that effect on me. And damn me for allowing him to do it.
As I sat there, willing myself to calm down, I thought about the twenty-five months of my life I’d spent with him in college. We’d been family friends for a long time, but it hadn’t turned into more until the summer before sophomore year at college, when our families met for our annual group vacation at a resort in Upstate New York. We’d gone fishing together one day, and when we came back, everything had changed between us. We started seeing each other that weekend, and when college went back in session he drove to Amherst every weekend from Boston College.
By the start of winter break, we were in love.
But it blew hot and cold. He could be jealous, possessive, and not as supportive of the career I wanted in TV. And that drove us apart. We couldn’t make it work, no matter how much effort I wanted both of us to put into it. And by the time I decided to attend NYU for grad school, I knew our relationship had reached its end. No one else had ever made me feel the way Nick did.
Except for James.
He made me feel the same way. But I still couldn’t be sure that he reciprocated my feelings. He kept sending me mixed messages, and I kept convincing myself I’d misread him.
I needed another drink. Or ten. That might begin to dull the evening.
I glanced at my watch. They were probably about to start dessert, and after that would come speeches and toasts. No matter what my cousin claimed she wanted, she was throwing a typical wedding, just one that came with a larger-than-usual price tag.
I stood up from the bench and headed back inside the hotel. A slight pang of guilt grew in my stomach. I shouldn’t have left James alone at the dinner, especially after he’d come all this way to help make sure the weekend didn’t end in a disaster.
But when I walked through the lobby, my breath heaved out of my lungs once again.
Nick slid toward me, grinning like he was the Cheshire cat. “We wondered where you went, Margot. They just served dessert. Red velvet cake.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said as I stopped midway through the lobby.
“Too bad.” He licked his thumb and locked his gaze with mine. “It was delicious.”
I studied him for a beat. This was like a counterattack, an additional foe I hadn’t prepared for and hadn’t anticipated.
Damn it. I was so sick of being the wallflower. Of sitting back and taking obnoxious barbs from my cousin and then Nick’s false benevolence. “Well, it suits you. A lot.” That smirk. Gag. He was such an …
“You’re such an asshole. I’m here with my date. What do you want?”
He recoiled. “Asshole? Don’t you think that’s a harsh way to refer to someone you haven’t seen in a long time?”
“Not when it comes to you.”
“Wow.” He drew out his words. “And I thought we were going to have a nice reunion. A chance to catch up. I haven’t seen you in over three years.”
“Who’s counting?”
“Me. I’m counting. And I’ve done a lot of thinking.” Nick st
epped closer to me, as if he wanted to ensure I concentrated on him.
I crossed my arms. “Which means what?”
“That I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t support you, and I didn’t understand how much your career meant to you. I made a lot of mistakes and failing to give you what you needed counted as one of my worst ones.”
“We were a mess together, Nick.”
“A beautiful mess.”
“You’re only saying that because it’s simpler to remember it that way. It gets us off the hook for the pain we caused each other.” I shook my head and looked away from him. For the pain you caused me. “If you think I’m going to let you just apologize and be done with it—”
“What? You think you’re happier now? With that … that beta male? That emo-looking guy? You’re not, Margot. I know it.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, but I jerked out of his grasp.
“No. You don’t get to do this. Not here.” I searched his face. “I don’t think you mean a word of what you’ve just said. I think you’re desperate, and that’s all.”
I stepped past him and walked away, headed to the rehearsal dinner I’d missed. When I walked in the room, the best man, one of Trip’s older brothers, had begun to give a toast. I slipped into my chair and glanced at the doorway leading to the hallway and the lobby. Thankfully, he hadn’t followed me back into the event.
“Are you okay?” James whispered to me.
“I’m fine,” I replied over a lump in my throat that could have been a large as a tennis ball. Leave it to Nick to get me ruffled. This weekend was not going the way I had envisioned. At all.
Get it together, Margot, get it together.
“You’re not fine,” James said. “You’re breathing like you just ran six miles in a half hour.”
I picked up my fork and didn’t allow my eyes to meet his. “Oh, really?” The words hurt to speak, and I cursed myself for that. I cut a piece of red velvet cake and ate a bite. This should have brought me unspeakable joy, but instead the confection tasted like cardboard.