Groomless - Part 3 (8 page)

“It was really only the beginning for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You finished your MBA and hooked your wagon to a star. I’ve read the profile in
Forbes
. I am well aware of what you got in exchange for breaking our plans.”

He sighed. “I could have done both. I could have built a career and had a personal life too. I realize that now, but I was too dumb and immature to see it back then. I was young and more than a little egotistical. I just kept thinking of all the luxury, the money, the helicopter, and—”

“I know. I didn’t fit into that picture.” I looked out the window, unable to look into his eyes for fear that I would start crying or kiss him or both. “We were just kids, Luke. We started planning our future at sixteen, without even knowing who we were going to turn out to be. It just didn’t work out the way we planned, that’s all.”

“That sounds suspiciously forgiving. Maybe you don’t hate me after all.”

“I did hate you for a while,” I admitted.

“I knew it,” he mumbled.

“I quit that a long time ago though,” I went on. “If I still hated you, I wouldn’t have come to you for help with this. There are plenty of other eligible fake grooms in the Big Apple. You’d be surprised what a guy will do for fifty bucks around here.”

“I shudder to think about it.” He laughed and pointed out the window at a scary-looking man huddled up against a skyscraper in a dark doorstep. “Anyway, I’m glad you asked me. I mean, I hate that you have to go through this, because I can tell it’s taking a toll on you, but at least I have some chance to make amends in some small way for how I treated you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Luke.”

“In a weird way, I feel I do. I gave you that ring when we graduated, remember?”

“Yeah, a promise ring. I thought that was the best day of my life. I had just finished high school, had my diploma and your ring in my hand, and was ready to head off to the big city with your diamond on my finger.”

“I was eighteen. It was more like a grain of diamond dust.” He grinned.

“It was perfect, the prettiest, most meaningful gift I’d ever gotten.”

“You threw it at my head when I came back home to visit. Remember on my front porch? You seem to have a thing for throwing rings at guys.”

I giggled. “Well, at least that one wasn’t covered in frosting when I launched it at you.”

“That’s true.”

“I was furious though.” 

“You had every right to be. That ring was a sign of my promise. I gave you my word that we’d get married when we graduated.”

“Well, in case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t make good on that promise.”

“Remember what I said when we were in Miami that one spring break?” he asked.

“Something with salsa dancing?”

“You wanted to go salsa dancing—”

“You didn’t want to,” I said, cutting him off. “You acted all macho about it, said it was for sissies, but I know you were just afraid you’d suck at it.”

“I was chicken shit, yes, but do you remember what I told you?”

“Not really. I was too pissed off at you for being such an old fuddy-duddy.”

“I told you that the next time I danced with you, you’d be wearing your wedding dress.”

“Hey, I remember now! I was sure that was just some sort of romantic bullshit you drummed up to get out of learning the salsa.”

“I didn’t know how to salsa, but what I said wasn’t bullshit. That’s one promise I intend to keep.”

“Damn, you’re good,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, but I will be,” he answered seriously, taking my hand in his.

“You have to quit doing that.”

“Doing what?” he said, gently stroking the top of my hand with his thumb.

“That right there! You keep holding my hand, touching me, kissing me. It’s too confusing, Luke. I can’t afford to forget what’s real. I have to stick to the story. My dad is dying of pancreatic cancer, and my high school boyfriend is…”

“High school boyfriend. Hey, I’m all grown up in case you didn’t notice.”

“Fine. My old boyfriend is playing the part of
imaginary
groom.”

“Old is no better than high school, Julia. It still sounds like an insult.”

“How about odd then? It sure thrilled me when you said it.”

“Luminous. I’ll be your luminous boyfriend,” he joked.

“You’re an old family friend. Let’s leave it at that. That’s what we’ll tell everybody.”

“Speaking of telling people things, we’ve got another talk show scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I have so much to do, Luke. I have to get my nails done, and we have to get our story straight. I need to go to my dad’s place and look for some old pictures,” I said. “I hope I can find some flattering ones, but I doubt it.”

He laughed. “My mom sent me some of our old photos by FedEx, and I had them scanned. I’ll send them over, and you can choose which ones we use.”

“My prom dress was so ugly. I don’t want to use any of me in that purple nightmare.”

“Yeah, it was kind of like Barney gone bad, and your hair was huge.”

“I paid somebody to get that look,” I said, laughing.

“It was so…eighties. Are you sure she wasn’t Tina Turner’s former stylist?”

I laughed, but panic overtook me as I realized I would be in front of a video camera yet again. “What if I cry on the show?”

“Then I’ll hand you the tissues. Nobody minds if you cry, JJ. It’s a difficult situation, and no one would blame you for being upset.”

“I’ve been a complete watering pot. The last time I cried this much was…”

“When?”

“Well, it was so hard losing Mom. There was that, of course, but I think I cried the most when you left me.”

“Shit, JJ, couldn’t you have said something else?” He raked a hand through his hair and looked out the window, now refusing to meet my gaze. “Wasn’t there some other guy, someone who hurt you just as bad or worse?”

“I can’t say there has been, Luke. I’ve had other boyfriends, but I’ve never quite felt for them the way I felt for you. I guess I was just an idiot. We were kids, so maybe I didn’t know any better.”

“I hate that, knowing I’m the one who wrecked you. I never wanted that kind of power.”

“Anyway…” I said, then hesitated to change the subject. “Are you bringing a date to our wedding reception?”

He laughed. “PR doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, they’re probably right. I guess you could dance with her while I dance with Dad though. At least my daddy’s not afraid to salsa.”

“I thought I’d dance with your grandma.”

“She’d like that,” I said softly.

“What should our song be?”

“My dad chose a Beyoncé one for our father/daughter dance. Can you believe that? He’s so hip.”

“Well, I love the song, so I’m all up for it.”

“Great,” I said.

“We have to figure out our song though, the one that we’ll dance to at the beginning of the reception, and please don’t pick that old Paula Abdul one.”

“’Cold-Hearted Snake’! How’d you ever guess I’d choose that for you?”

“Very funny, JJ.”

“I don’t care what song we use. You pick.”

“I hoped you’d say that,” he said, deadpan. “I can’t think of anything though. You were all about that
Twilight
song around the time we broke up.”

“Thanks for reminding me and making me feel even stupider by calling it that
Twilight
song. Gosh, I loved those movies, and as corny as I feel about that now, I’ve gotta say that ‘A Thousand Years’ is still a beautiful song.”

“So you wanna use that one.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you just said—”

“Luke, I only said I like it. I also like
Hollaback Girl,
but we’re not using that. We’ll have the DJ pick one. I’m sure there’s some sort of standard Trump wedding song.”

“Bitter much? It’s not like I left you for Trump.”

“You kind of did. Anyway, what’s taking so long? Traffic sucks here.”

“It’s New York, JJ, and we’ve been parked for, like, ten minutes.”

“Oh. So why are we still sitting here?”

“I was just, uh…”

“Humoring me? We’ve got places to be and things to do, Luke. I know you have a schedule to keep.”

“Speaking of that, after this meeting with the caterers, we have to have a sit-down with PR to go over the talking points for tomorrow.”

“The talking points, huh? Every girl’s dream,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“This is your game, JJ,” Luke said. “If you want me to be on your team, you have to play by the rules.”

***

The caterers showed us exquisite china patterns, and I chose one with fine, swirling lines of pale aqua along the silver rim. They plated the tasting menu on those to give me a feel for how the whole presentation would look on the day of the event.

“We must think of the plate as a clock face. Meat goes at six o’clock, with the other items at three and nine, unless it is a cold dish, of course.”

“Where’d you learn that?” I asked, impressed.

“Gordon Ramsay said it, but I found it on Pinterest,” the caterer’s assistant whispered to me. “Don’t tell Mr. Trump or our chef I said that, or they’ll can me!”

Everything was over-the-top beautiful.

“I like the mozzarella,” I said.

“Of course. I figured that would be your pick,” Luke said, laughing at me.

“Let’s do that and the seared beef, the one you like.”

“You don’t have to compromise on my account.”

“Luke, fake or not, it’s your wedding reception too. You may as well have something you like.” 

“Thanks, JJ. That’s quite considerate of you.”

“My dad likes samosas. Let’s get those.”

We ran through the rest of the menu at lightning speed, because Luke’s secretary kept sending him reminders that PR was waiting. Since everything was delicious, it came down to a matter of what I thought my dad and guests would like most. Soon, we were in the elevator, zooming up several floors.

I cast Luke a sideways glance, smiling mischievously.

“The last time we were in an elevator…” he said, grinning back at me.

“Yeah, I know. Did we ever talk?”

“Of course we did, but only under the stars. Just never in cars or elevators.”

“Or on picnics.”

“Gosh, I loved those picnics with you.”

“My spring rolls were killer good.”

“
You
were killer good,” he retorted.

I felt color flooding my face and wasn’t sure what to say.

“We learned everything together. I think there was some kind of magic to that, the element of discovery.”

“You’re probably right. There wasn’t much left for me to figure out with other guys I met after you,” I said.

“I texted you all the time, JJ. I wanted you to feel like I was right there, even when I couldn’t be.”

“Uh, you mean those hope-you-had-a-good-day or see-you-soon messages I used to get once a day? Yeah, it was total Shakespeare.”

“I was a business major. Creative writing has never my forte,” he said, smirking.

“I didn’t expect a sonnet, Luke, but a something a little more intimate and meaningful might have been nice. I’ve gotten Tropical Smoothie Café text-coupons that were more romantic than that.”

“Well, I would have given you half-off during happy hour, too,” he said with a playful wink.

***

In the sleek, modern PR offices, we sat at a glass conference table while a woman in a gorgeous jade-green suit cued a PowerPoint for us to watch. Someone had been forced to make a series of slides about the angle, tone, and specifics of our public appearances and interviews, and I was pretty certain that unfortunate worker bee was Luke’s overworked secretary.

“Now, Luke, you need to go with the standard charitable tone, exhibiting concern but fondness as well. Incorporate an amusing anecdote, the usual.”

“Right, Liz. I can do that,” he said, tapping notes into his tablet at an unbelievable speed.

I recalled that Luke had talented hands and fingers, but I had no idea he could move them that fast, and I stared at him in silent awe.

“Julia—” Liz started, looking at me and getting my attention.

“JJ,” Luke corrected.

“We’re going with Julia. It’s more feminine,” she said coolly.

I tried not to laugh as I was repackaged for their stockholders. “Whatever. I know you guys are all about the branding,” I said under my breath, causing Luke to look at me and smirk.

“As I was saying,” Liz continued, “we’d like you in a dress. I will have a few sent to your apartment. Try them on and choose something modest and sweet. Don’t use too much makeup, as they’ll have to powder your face for the cameras anyway. Leave the hairstyling to the professionals.”