Groomless - Part 3 (7 page)

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Remember you talked about the bride that walks out in some dress that makes her bawl? On that wedding show?” I waved at the tears getting ready to burst through. “Yeah, it just happened to me. This is it! I’m having that moment.”

Luke looked at me strangely and stood back. He did not take my hands and just stood there, gawking at me, uncharacteristically speechless.

“Are you having second thoughts? Do you like it?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” he said stiffly and nodded. “I love it.”

“So…is this the one?” I pressed, fishing for a compliment.

“It’s stunning. It’s like it was meant for you.”

I stepped off the dais and rustled over to him, with my giant skirt swishing back and forth as I walked.

“I’m sort of surprised you took time out of your schedule to do this with me,” I said. “I know you’re busy, and I’ll understand if you’ve gotta leave, Luke. You’ve been really wonderful about this, so accommodating in every way, but you don’t have to hold my hand. I appreciate that you went to such great lengths to set this up for me.”

“I don’t need to go. I cleared my schedule.”

“Your
whole
day?”

“Yes, and yours too.”

“Mine?”

“Yep. Your boss understands the vital importance of all this. It’s good publicity for everyone involved, including your place of work.”

“Wait. You talked to my boss?”

“Yes. You’re off today and tomorrow with pay.”

I gasped. “Wow. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. That completely took me by surprise. Thank you so much.”

“I like to keep you on your feet.”

“But if you don’t have to go, why do you look so, uh… I mean, what’s the problem? You looked like I caught you in the middle of something, like a deer in the headlights.”

“I just wasn’t prepared to see you in that dress.”

“I’ve been trying wedding dresses on for an hour and a half, parading them all in front of you like your own personal fashion show, Luke. It really shouldn’t be all that shocking by now,” I teased.

“It just made me realize what I missed out on,” he said softly. “You look so damn gorgeous, JJ. You literally took my breath away.”

I gazed deeply into his eyes and he touched my face.

We had this moment I couldn’t explain. And it was amazing because there was so much emotion between us.

The saleslady came back out and interrupted our moment. She picked up a dress next to me and went to hang it back up.

“You’re still staring,” I said.

“I know. It’s just… You look so… It’s like you’re a real bride, really about to get married. When you came out here, you had this look on your face. It was just odd, that’s all.”

“Great. Odd was what I was going for.”

“You were?”

“Yep. A woman will spend thousands of dollars to look
odd
on her wedding day,” I said snarkily.

When I came out of that dressing room, my face beamed, my eyes twinkled, and I had the biggest grin ever. I was taking this too far. I even had ‘the moment’, the one where you’ve found the perfect dress. I wasn’t getting married, but the look on my face said I was. I was acting like a happy bride who had found the perfect dress. And he found that odd since we weren’t really getting married. I guess my face gave it all away. I got carried away in the fantasy.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Julia. You just look…” A sheepish expression crossed his face, a brief flash of the boy I’d once known. “You’re…luminous, radiant even,” he finished.

I beamed. I’d been called cute before, and a date had once called me beautiful, but I was sure that guy was only trying to get into my pants, which he never did. Now, Luke was complimenting me with the kind of words I always saw in Covergirl or shampoo commercials, words like “radiant” and “luminous,” and that was new for me. I grinned at him. “That’s a pretty good adjective, Luke. What were you doing with that tablet of yours anyway? Checking out a thesaurus?”

He smiled. “I don’t need a thesaurus to tell you how I really feel,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re taking the compliment instead of murdering me for calling you odd. It’d be a shame to splatter blood all over one of these gowns.”

“Well, you pulled it out of the fire at the last minute. Well done,” I said. “And I love this dress way too much.”

“Is it even possible to love something too much?”

“You tell me,” I said, winking at him and then immediately wishing I hadn’t.

The comment flew over his head.

“You know your dad will love it,” he said.

“I’m sure he will,” I said. With everything in me, I truly wished the wedding was real, that I was really wearing the dress I would bedazzle him with at the end of some grand, trampled-flower aisle. I was glad Luke was there, but it was also very confusing to have him by my side when I didn’t really have him at all. Not only that, but I wasn’t even sure I wanted him.

The saleslady peered at me. “Is this the dress then? Because it sure looks gorgeous on you.”

“Yes, this is the one.”

She grinned. “Great.”  

“I’ve gotta make a call,” Luke said. “Go ahead and finalize everything, and I’ll be just outside the door,” he said. He turned to go, then turned back around, paused, and took my hand, as if he couldn’t possibly walk away. Luke gave a rueful half-smile before he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Luminous,” he said again, then shook his head and walked out.

I stood on the dais, not even breathing. Never in my entire life had anyone ever kissed my hand like that. It was a scene from right out of a movie, from right out of some period romance with gentlemen in powdered wigs and ladies walking around with dainty fans in front of their faces. Hand-kissing, much like the ball gowns I’d been stuffing myself into all day, simply was not something that was part of my real life. When my breath rushed back into my lungs, I began to chew my thumbnail mindlessly, trying not to think about the overwhelming feelings that one simple graze of his lips had stirred.
None of it is real,
I told myself.
Anything I feel or think right now is just a side effect of all this make-believe.

Maeve brought me a bottle of water while I was being measured for alterations. They assured me that the dress would be ready in plenty of time, and they volunteered to put a rush on it just to be safe. Maeve made sure I had the perfect hairpiece, a headband that gave the look the perfect finishing touch.

Next on the list was to find the right pair of shoes, which turned out to be an adventure all its own. After trying on eight other pairs of heels, I finally spotted some nude, patent-leather ones. “What about those?” I said. “Then I can at least wear them again someday, maybe on a date or something. They look…practical.”

Maeve clicked her tongue at me. “Young lady, this is for your wedding, false or not! Weddings are not the time to be practical. You need something pretty, something unique, even if you never wear them again! It is a special day, and a special day requires special shoes.”

I eventually capitulated and chose a pair of strappy Manolos that looked like something out of the Costume Institute museum. My feet looked like art, or at least like a very unqualified model’s big stompers stuffed into a pair of matching artwork. Looking down at my hideous toes and then over at Maeve’s fingernails, which were painted some wealthy-looking shade of deep red, I wondered if I could sneak away for a manicure and pedicure sometime before the reception. Manicures were expensive, and they tended to get in the way of my work sometimes. For the first time in my life, I wanted my hands to look pretty; the dress and those insanely uncomfortable shoes demanded it.

Downstairs, I went for the exit but was stopped by Luke, who startled me. “I thought you left,” I said.

“I only said I had to make a call. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Always, hence the heavy-duty shapewear poor Maeve had to help me into up there. For a minute, I was considering asking her if they have any high-end duct tape and gauze,” I admitted as we got in the car. “Why? Are you taking me to lunch?”

“Your dad okayed the move to Trump International, overlooking the park. We’re using their caterers, and I assure you that they’re excellent. The planner spoke with Jean Georges, so we’re on our way to a tasting to sample the menu.”

“Wow. This just sort of exploded, didn’t it?” I marveled. “This is the kind of stuff I read about online in my aspirational browsing.”

“Anytime we have a cocktail hour with prospects, I make a beeline for the seared beef tenderloin on croutons. It’s unreal.”

“What about cheese?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He laughed. “I forgot about you and the cheese. I still say that’d make a great movie.”

“Yeah, right. I can see it now.
JJ and the Buffalo Mozzarella: A Love Story
. I’m sure it’d win an Academy Award…or at least show up on Rotten Tomatoes.”

He chuckled again. “You remember! I’ve never seen anyone act like that in a deli, before or since.”

“That was the best freaking thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“I thought you were going to climb in the barrel and bob for cheeses,” he said, heaving another deep chuckle and revealing that smile that I found so irresistible.

“You know what? Zack loves cheese as much as I do. So I’m not the only cheese lover out there. We’ve even talked about visiting the cheese capital of the world.”

“Plymouth, Wisconsin?”

“Yeah. We were going to go one New Year’s Eve. They drop an 80-pound Styrofoam cheese wedge from a 100-foot truck ladder at the stroke of midnight.”

Luke smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

“I’m sure it’s a blast.”

“I’m really sorry your friend can’t make it. I know you’d love him to be there. You’ll have to send him pictures or something.”

“Yeah, well, he’s already demanded FaceTime. I have a feeling he’ll want me to stream the whole thing to him instantly. He can’t exactly show up for a reception in a full-body cast.”

“Trump has a florist, too, by the way.”

“So this is a full-service affiliation?”

“Pretty much. The event planner for the hotel will be in touch. She set all this up, with the help of my secretary.”

“Remind me to send flowers to both of them. It’s really sweet of them to put so much work into this, especially since it’s all fake.”

“What about me? Don’t I get flowers?”

“I’m sure you’ll have a boutonniere.”

“Great,” he said as the car pulled to a stop at the light.

An awkward silence ensued between us in the plush car, and I glanced up at the steamed-up window between us and the driver. “This is…odd,” I said, letting out a little nervous laugh.

“Now you know how I felt seeing you in that dress, all glowing and hopeful. What’s so odd about this though? I mean, I know you’re not used to having a driver, but—”

“It’s not that. It’s just… Sitting in a back seat with you, it reminds me of…”

“Yeah, I know. How could I forget?”

“That Thanksgiving, we were sure there was more in the ovens than my mom’s rolls.”

“I remember that weekend. We both panicked and broke up.”

“Was that really why, Luke?” I asked seriously. “Were you afraid I would get pregnant, accidently or on purpose, and trap you?”

“No! I’d never accuse you of that. I guess we just wanted different things back then, and that little scare just put it all in perspective. You were so excited. I could tell you were nervous, but you seemed pleasantly surprised to think you were pregnant. I wouldn’t have deserted you. You know that. I just wasn’t ready for all that though. It kinda freaked me out.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. I still can’t believe you threw up, like you were the one who was going to have morning sickness. I mean, you work in a high-pressure job. I can’t imagine how your stomach manages the anxiety of that.”

“My job can get pretty stressful sometimes, but I’ve never been as scared as I was about that. Real estate development and licensing is low pressure compared to that weekend.”

“So you don’t puke every time a deal falls through?”

“Not every time, no,” he said wryly.

“So, uh…you were more scared of sharing a life with me than you are of losing billions of dollars?”

“That, too,” he said.

“Luke! How could you say that?” I demanded, looking at him in disbelief.

He grinned from ear to ear. “You know I’m joking. It was a wake-up call though. Shit just got real, ya know?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t your preferred brand of real. A Brooklyn brownstone and a kid doesn’t sound quite as glamorous as living the life of a golden boy executive in Manhattan, working for Mr. Trump.”

“Julia, we already had this fight five years ago. Do we have to have a rematch now, in the back of a Town Car, on our way to taste fancy
hors d'oeuvres
?”

“I’m sorry. I guess all those backseat sex flashbacks just got to me. For some reason, it reminds me of the end of everything.”