Diamonds Are Forever (38 page)

Gemma looked over at Azura who looked cute in her stylish beige jumpsuit tucked into tall, furry boots.  If they were indeed about to attend a wedding as she had suspected, Azura definitely looked good enough to be at any formal event.  She looked down at her own outfit – an oversized sweatshirt that reached her knees and rested on top of a pair of plain black leggings and boots.  She wore one of Armand’s winter jackets that he had left behind at the studio, not knowing
how
warm Tyler meant when he had said to dress warm.  And in the crisp, Vermont air, she was thankful she took it along.

As soon as they stepped inside the cabin, Gemma knew she had to be right.  It was bigger and more spacious than it had appeared outside with high ceilings that boasted simple decorations.  There were Christmas tree lights wrapped in gauze that hung in a spoke like a pattern from the middle of the canted ceiling and down the walls.  An ivory carpet ran down the center of the room.  Chairs were set up on both sides of it, about four dozen in total.  Though everything looked as if it had just been put together an hour ago, it was still beautiful and warm and looked more than worthy for celebration.

They took a seat on Tyler’s side, sitting behind his mother and his longtime security guard and best friend, Mike.  Gemma was too surprised and excited to feel awkward.  She reached forward to tap them on the shoulders and greet them and they turned to do so, sharing in her energy.  On Sophie’s side was a middle-aged couple and an elderly man, people Gemma assumed were her parents and perhaps grandfather.  They sat nervously, tapping their feet and twiddling their fingers.  They were smiling despite it.

Gemma realized that most of the people there had gotten the type of invitation that she had gotten – a random, last minute phone call followed by a town car.  Many seemed to be just as concerned with their clothing choices as they slowly realized what was happening.

When Tyler finally appeared, the room broke out in cheers and applause.  Gemma laughed, realizing how odd it was to start a wedding that way, but then again, nothing about the experience had started out normal at all.  Tyler smiled, standing at the altar with a minister that looked more like a hipster lumberjack than any minister she had ever seen.  There were no bridesmaids or groomsmen and Sophie’s father had disappeared to the back of the room.  Suddenly, there was music.

Four little kids that had been sitting on Sophie’s side just moments before had gone up by the altar and picked up instruments, playing a tune that she didn’t recognize.  It was peaceful, pleasant, and even without words Gemma could feel the love in it.

Arm in arm with her father, Sophie came down the aisle, again to applause and cheers.  She laughed her giant laugh, shaking the veil that hung in front of her face.  Gemma looked up at Tyler, waiting for her at the end of the aisle.  She expected him to look at her as if there was no one else in the room, but instead, he was laughing as well.  Before she could even reach the altar, Tyler had stepped down to take her hand and pull her in, kissing her.

“Ease up, little man,” the minster said.  “We haven’t started.”

Gemma sat back in her seat, giggling with Azura over the absurdity of what they were sitting in.  When the sounds of confusion and amusement among the small wedding crowd finally died down, the minister began.

The mood in the room changed, suddenly serious as the ceremony began.  Gemma watched as Tyler and Sophie held each other’s hands, looking into one another’s eyes with some sort of intangible knowing.  There were faint smiles on their lips as they watched each other, as if they were having some sort of wordless conversation.

It was over quickly, ending with a kiss between Tyler and Sophie and strangely, noogies from the minister.  With an air of no rules or tradition, the crowd stood and rushed the altar, grabbing Tyler and Sophie for hugs and kisses.

Gemma watched as the newlyweds greeted their guests, the very few that had been invited.  A handful of hired workers rearranged the chairs behind them, setting up tables as well.  She could smell the food that had been brought in and hear the sounds of corks being popped off of champagne bottles.  Without place cards or table numbers, everyone took a seat at random.

“Thank you girls for coming,” Tyler said, ducking his head in between Gemma and Azura’s and squeezing them into him with his arms.  “I was getting scared that I’d have no one sitting on my side.  It means everything that you could be here for me.”

“I’m flattered I was on the list,” Gemma said, quietly.  Tyler turned to give her a quick kiss as well.

“I always knew you’d be at my wedding,” Tyler laughed.  “Just maybe not like this.”

“As in a guest?”

“As in a friend,” he shrugged.  He leaned his face to hers.  “That’s all I’ve ever hoped for us.”

~

In the pitch-blackness of Vermont’s roads on their car ride home, Gemma felt her eyes closing involuntarily.  A jetlagged Azura was beside her, breathing steadily and peacefully, her head leaning against the window.

Gemma fought it every time she felt herself slipping into sleep.  There was an uncomfortable sensation as she drifted off.  She could feel the onset of one of those flashbacks, vivid with its multi-sensual recollection.  She could almost feel Damian’s lips on hers.  But she didn’t want that now.  It wasn’t real.  It wasn’t happening.  She felt pathetic for even experiencing it.

But with the long night and the long drive and the peaceful lull of the dark highway, Gemma couldn’t fight sleep much longer.  Without realizing, she had suddenly dozed off and found herself in Damian’s arms.  She gasped, somewhat conscious of the fact that she was dreaming, even though the sensations felt so familiar that she knew it was a memory from that night in Vegas.

It was something different this time.

Damian held her by her waist, pressing her body to his as he looked down into her eyes.  The minister had asked if they had vows.  Gemma laughed, shaking her head.

“I had no time to prepare,” she had said.  But just when the minister was about to move on, Damian stopped him.  The three of them stood silently as Damian mulled over something in his head, all the while looking at Gemma.  She could feel his heart beating against her hand, quickening when she smiled at him.

“I did,” he had replied.  Gemma furrowed her brows, wondering when.  “But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I want to say it.  Words won’t do it justice.”

“Just say it,” Gemma replied, a teasing tone in her voice.  “We’re about to get married, aren’t we? No more secrets.”

“It was never a secret,” he laughed.  “How much I love you.  I’m just so used to not saying it that I can’t seem to do it now.”

“Cold feet?” the minister had joked.  Damian shook his head with conviction.

“Never,” he said, kissing her before their vows.  He looked down into her eyes, brushing away a strand of hair.  “Not with you.  I could have married you any day since knowing you, and I wouldn’t have had a single ounce of regret over it.  I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you, Gemma, and I’ve loved you more with every day that’s gone by.  Whether you were near me or two thousand miles away.  It didn’t matter because I always felt like you were close.”  He laughed quietly.  “Which is good because ever since meeting you, I’ve needed you somewhere in my day – in my thoughts or my dreams or actually with me.  You’ve always fueled me.”

Gemma felt his words suck the breath out of her.  “Damian,” she breathed with a smile on her face that she’d never felt before.  “Why have you never told me this?” she asked, ignoring the welling in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“It’s not easy to say aloud,” Damian said.  “Not even now, standing here.  Especially when… I was never sure you came close to feeling the same.”

“I feel the same way, Damian, of course I do,” Gemma said.  “You’re the person I lean on for everything.  I trust you with every part of me, I have since I was sixteen.”  He stared at her for a beat before looking away.  “How could you ever doubt that?”

“Should we be doing this?” he asked, leaving her question unanswered.  He pulled her from the altar and lowered his voice.  “Gemma, we’ve both had… a lot to drink.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” she insisted, gripping his hand in hers.  “Damian, I care about you more than anything.  And this stupid piece of paper, this stupid ceremony means nothing in the long run because we are who we are for each other and we will always just
be
that.  Who cares if we have it or not? It’s meaningless compared to everything between us, everything that got us here to this moment.  We’re us.  No one else can ever be us.”

“Okay,” Damian said, eyes gleaming.  He kissed her, lifting her into his arms.  They fell back against a wall, unsteady on their feet, laughing.  “So? What do you want to do?”

“Let’s do it,” Gemma replied.  “I don’t have the words to express how I feel about you, Damian, so let that stupid piece of paper be it.  Let that be what you need to never doubt for a moment how much I love you.”

GEMMA HUNTER CANCELS LAUNCH PARTY FOR FLAGSHIP STORE, POSTPONES OPENING

The Manhattan Local

March 6
^th

After facing harsh criticism for her attempt at the fashion industry, Gemma Hunter is disappointing people once again – this time, her fans.

After garnering much more positive attention since her work with the famous Burke Faust, many were looking forward to the launching of her new line and opening of her Meatpacking District store, The Court.  Hundreds were on the guest list and no doubt already had their outfits laid out for the event when Hunter released the following statement:

“It is with much regret that I must postpone a day that I had been looking forward to for so long.  Please know how grateful I am to all that were planning to attend.  I hope to see you when I am able to reschedule The Court’s launch.  Though I do not want to go into detail as to why I have to cancel on such short notice, understand that I wouldn’t have done so if I didn’t deem it absolutely necessary.”

SURPRISE, SURPRISE

Betsy S. for Fleur Magazine

March 6
^th

What true professional manages to capture the attention of New York tastemakers and trendsetters, makes them pencil an event into their very tight, very busy schedules, only to cancel on everyone at the last minute?

Should we even be surprised that Gemma Hunter would pull another one of these stunts?

I don’t care what everyone seems to be saying about Burke Faust’s weird obsession with her – no amount of praise can keep me from calling out the fact that this is just further proof that Gemma Hunter knows nothing more than tabloid stunts.  Who else would be so okay with canceling a major event with major attendees and not even have the guilt or decency to explain why?

Keeping things cryptic doesn’t make you cool or mysterious, sweetheart.  You just look like a sociopath.

Gemma pounded on the door of Damian’s townhouse until her fists felt raw.  She leaned her forehead against the door, resting as she inhaled deeply.  She had repeated the fruitless motion twice now, both times to no answer. 
What am I doing?
she asked herself.  He hadn’t been there the night he waited with Aubrey.  He hadn’t shown up at all.  And from the look of things on the outside, there was no sign he had ever returned.

She turned, sitting on the top step of his stoop.  Everyone was right.  What kind of friend had Gemma been if she couldn’t even figure out where he was? He should have known him enough to at least make an educated guess of where to start.  And yet all she could think of was this townhouse.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a doorknob turning.  Gemma jumped to her feet, her heart in her throat as she faced the door.  But it remained closed.  The sound of shuffling slippers seeped out the doorway to her left.  Gemma looked over to see Mr. Baker stepping out of the house.

“What’s all this noise?” he asked.  He was wearing a knitted sweater over his slacks, dressed surprisingly neatly for someone who spent all this time at home.

“Hi, Mr. Baker, right?” Gemma said, running down the stairs and up towards his door.  She held out her hand to shake his.  He looked at her with suspicious eyes before returning her handshake.

“You’re Damian’s girl,” he replied, nodding at her.

“Oh, well,” Gemma shook her head.  “I guess I used to be.”

“He hasn’t been home,” Mr. Baker said.  “He said he’ll be away for awhile.  To clear his head.”

“Wait, he said something to you?” Gemma said, feeling her grip tighten on Mr. Baker’s poor hand.  She let go quickly, embarrassed, even though he seemed fine with it.  “When did you last talk to him?”

“New Year’s Day,” he gestured for Gemma to follow him into the house.  “He brought me a cheesecake.”

“Oh?” Gemma asked, finding it strange.  It was the same day as the morning he had left her behind at the shore house.  Buying his neighbor a cheesecake seemed like an odd thing to do after making the drive home from the shore.

“It was my wife and my favorite holiday.  I told him that early on when he asked about her.  She passed years ago but we would stay up and watch the countdown and then sleep in late.  Then the next day, we would buy ourselves a wheel of Junior’s cheesecake and stuff ourselves silly.”  Mr. Baker laughed at the memory, shuffling down his neatly kept foyer.  “My favorite flavor was the original but she liked strawberry.  We had to flip a coin every year.  To see which flavor we were getting,” he groaned, pretending to be grouchy though Gemma could hear the amusement in his voice.  “And every year that I won, she made us get that strawberry flavor anyway.  Said I could just scrape off the topping.  But you know, even when you did, it left a little something behind.  It was never just plain.”