Lovestruck Forever (12 page)

The
next message, predictably, was from Maria herself.
The
caterer can see us, we’re going to run over now
.
No “I’m sorry” from Maria; no asking if I would
mind.

Laura’s
message actually made me smile.
Mom
says we have to meet the caterer today. I promise I won’t let
Bridesmaidzilla make any final decisions without asking you.

“Everything
okay?”

I
held the phone up for Thomas. “Apparently the caterer had a
sudden opening, so the girls are going to go over and meet with him.”

His
eyebrows went up. “Without you?”

I
shrugged. “We were cutting it kind of close waiting for him to
have an opening.”

“But
I thought the food was something you wanted to decide about
yourself.”

I
looked out the window at the rainy landscape as the cabbie crept
along the motorway toward London. “I trust their judgment,”
I finally said, not really wanting to explain to him that the
decisions had already been made. This was the caterer the hall worked
with. He specialized in Americanized Mexican food, the kind of thing
that had been served at every family wedding I’d ever attended.
What was there to decide, really? I couldn’t seem to muster up
the energy to make a big stink over the choice between chicken or
beef enchiladas.

Thomas
looked like he wanted to argue further, but his phone rang. He looked
down at it, groaning a little. “Work,” he said
apologetically. “Sorry, love.”

I
waved my hands dismissively. “Go for it.” As he answered
and began a brisk conversation with Heidi, I took the chance to punch
out responses to my family. Maria and my mother got the same one:
sure, that’s no
problem. Thanks for going.
I switched over to Laura’s message to craft a response.
Thanks,
sis. Just make sure there’s no pescadillas, okay? You know I
can’t stand the smell of them.

Before
I could put my phone back, there was another beep, another text. From
Maria this time. W
e’ll
probably look at flowers while we’re out. I’ll send
pictures.

I
sighed, staring down at the phone. I knew I should tell her that I’d
be choosing the flowers on my own, to not even think about stepping
in a flower shop without me, but, once again, I just couldn’t
muster the energy. My mom would want to go to Ada, a distant
relative. Her flowers were pretty, but somewhat generic. I thought
about the bouquet of simple hydrangeas I had pinned on my wedding
board. There was no way Ada would make me something like that. Or,
rather, she would make it but start adding carnations and roses when
she found it too plain. Soon the arrangement would look nothing like
what I had pictured in the first place.

“Sorry
about that,” Thomas said, pocketing his phone and reaching for
my hand.

“No
problem.”

“Hey.”
He nudged my chin with his thumb. “You okay? You look a little
down.”

I
knew how he would respond if I shared any of my thoughts right now.
He’d be annoyed with my family for their presumptions and
disappointed in me for not standing up to them. So instead, I turned
to him, forcing a smile on my face, and said, “I think you
might have been right about the rain. It’s depressing.”

Thomas
wrapped his arm around me, drawing me closer. “Just imagine how
cozy it will be when we’re cuddled up in front of the fire
later.”

My
smile turned genuine. There were few places in the world I loved more
than Thomas’s flat. It was small and cluttered with bookshelves
and comfy furniture. Not exactly the kind of place you would imagine
a star of Thomas’s caliber living—but that was part of
the appeal for me. It was a reminder of the early days of our
relationship, before
Hostile
took off so unexpectedly, changing his career and both of our lives.
A reminder of a simpler time, when we could walk down the street or
go to the airport without worrying about fans or photographers
recognizing him.

“It
will be weird,” I murmured. “Moving into our own place.
The Bayswater flat feels like home to me.”

“Me,
too,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Obviously. But
probably too small for the two of us full time. And it’s not
the most secure place.”

I
frowned into his jacket. He’d been mentioning things like
security much more than he ever used to. It always made me feel
slightly uncomfortable, though I knew it was part of the package when
it came to his job.

“Besides,”
he went on. “Won’t it be nice to live somewhere new?
London is so big, there are loads of neighborhoods we haven’t
even explored yet.”

“That’s
true,” I conceded. “It will be nice finding new
restaurants and stores.”

“And
pubs,” he added. “The most important thing.”

“As
if you’d ever move on from your pub,” I snorted. Thomas
and Charlie had been fiercely loyal to their local in Hackney, down
the street from the flat they had first shared in London years ago.
Even after they had both moved into their own places in completely
different neighborhoods, they still visited The Arms Public House in
Hackney at least once a month when they were both in London.

“There’s
no better place than The Arms,” he said loyally. “But
that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun sampling the wares at
other establishments in search of my second favorite pub.”

I
turned my attention back to the window, determined to make the most
of our time together here and not let any family or wedding stress
get in the way. We only had a week to enjoy London together before
returning home. And once we were back in Detroit, Thomas would have
less than two weeks before he had to be on location for the movie. I
closed my eyes.
Don’t
think about that, now.

We’d
been separated for brief periods several times during our
relationship. I had long ago accepted that it was just something I
would have to deal with in dating him. As an actor, travel was always
going to be a big part of his life. I would go with him when
possible, but it was inevitable that there would be times we’d
be in different locations. I didn’t like it—I was sure I
would never like it, but I had accepted it.

Besides,
this upcoming separation already felt different from the others. I
was planning on coming to London as often as possible to see him. We
also had plans to meet in San Diego in a few months while Thomas
attended Comic-Con. And, when the movie was over, we had the wedding
to look forward to. Our whole life together to look forward to.

I
leaned back to look up at his face, as familiar to me now as my own,
and smiled.
I can deal
with a few weeks a part
,
I told myself, believing every word of it.
If
it means I get a lifetime with him, I can deal with just about
anything
.

***

Thomas
was busier than I had anticipated while we were in London. His days
were filled with meetings, costume fittings, screen tests, a table
read, and any number of other actorly things he found too boring to
mention to me. He was usually able to get home in the evenings, and
we dined at many of our favorite restaurants and visited with
friends. We were even able to make it to Wednesday night trivia with
Meghan, Cater, Sarra, and Mark; something I had missed terribly while
we were in the States.

There
was a slight damper on the night when one of the trivia teams, made
up entirely of female administrative assistants from the City,
recognized Thomas. They spent a lot of time staring at our table,
talking about our table, and taking pictures of our table before they
finally got up the courage to come over and ask Thomas for his
autograph. I could tell he was annoyed—he’d been looking
forward to some normalcy with his friends for weeks. Luckily, Sarra
and Meghan salvaged the evening by loudly wondering why on earth
anyone would want pictures of a guy who suffered debilitating
flatulence until the girls finally got the hint and left us alone.

“Sorry,”
Thomas said tersely, pulling his baseball cap lower on his forehead.
I found his hand under the table and could feel the tension radiating
from him. His entire body was coiled tightly.

“It’s
not your fault,” I reminded him, but he didn’t relax.

“Don’t
be daft, mate,” Carter said, slapping his back. “You
can’t help it if you’re an international sex symbol.”
Carter scrunched up his face in seeming confusion. “Though I
can’t for the life of me figure out why.”

I
grinned at him gratefully, noting that some of the tension had gone
out of Thomas’s face. I knew how much he valued the fact that
they teased him—that they, in short, treated him the same way
that they always had, regardless of how many magazine covers he had
now been featured on.

On
the third day of our visit, I made plans to meet up with Imogen while
Thomas worked. We had become close while both working in Heidi’s
office, and I hadn’t seen her since my abrupt departure from
Los Angeles. After L.A., Heidi had moved offices to a modern
skyscraper on the banks of the Thames. Her business had exploded
since Thomas’s break-out the previous year, and she had
partnered with a large talent agency across town. It felt weird to
wait at the marble lobby counter for Imogen to be paged. When we
worked together in the West End, we didn’t have anything so
high tech as a paging system, let alone a marble lobby.

“Lizzie!”
she squealed the moment the elevator doors opened. In a blur of pale
long limbs and perfect hair, she wrapped her arms around me. “I
miss you!”

“I
miss you, too!” I hugged her back, realizing how true those
words really were. I’d been so busy with my mom since leaving
L.A. that I hadn’t really had time to notice that I missed
working, missed feeling productive and going out to the office every
day. And I missed having a social life at work, instead of the
monotony of spending nearly every day in the company of my family.
Most of all, I missed Imogen herself. She was a slightly silly girl,
totally obsessed with celebrity culture. But she was also very sweet
and incredibly loyal. She’d been a great friend to me,
particularly in those lonely days in Malibu while Thomas spent so
much time working.

“You
look great,” she said, pulling away so she could look me over.
“I love that dress.”

“Thanks,
Im,” I said, not bothering to mention that she’d seen the
yellow flowered sundress dozens of times. Imogen was not the kind of
girl that often repeated outfits, and she had a habit of thinking no
one else did, either.

“Well?”
she asked expectantly, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Where
is it?”

“Where’s
what?” I asked, puzzled.

She
threw her arms out in exasperation. “The ring, silly!”

“Oh,
right.” I held out my left hand for her to admire the ring.

“Wow,”
she whispered, grabbing my hand and holding the ring up to her face.
“It’s lovely, Lizzie.”

In
spite of her words, I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed
slightly more subdued than she’d been before seeing the ring. I
grinned. “Let me guess—you were hoping for a six-carat
pink diamond.”

She
flushed a little. “No! Well, I mean, that is the kind of ring
that Ben Affleck bought J-Lo back in the day.” Catching sight
of my expression, she went on quickly. “But this suits you much
better, Lizzie. It’s really great.”

“Thank
you,” I said, still grinning. Some might have been offended,
but I knew Imogen too well. She was constantly fantasizing about what
it would be like to date a movie star. A perfectly respectable,
lovely ring did not, apparently, live up to her expectations of
proper celebrity diamond-buying behavior.

“So.”
I slipped my arm through hers. “Where shall we have lunch? I
don’t know this neighborhood at all.”

She
led me through the lobby, waving cheerily at the security guard as we
passed, and out into the weak May sunshine. “There’s a
nice sushi place right down the street,” she said. “How
does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ve
gone a few times with some of the girls in the office, but it’s
just not the same, Lizzie. They’re all so serious and frumpy.”
She paused on the sidewalk to hold out her foot. “Not one of
them even noticed my new sandals. Can you believe that?”

“How
dare they?” I asked, faking as much outrage as I could manage.

“I
know! And they weren’t the least bit excited to hear about all
the celebrities we saw in L.A.” She sighed a little. “You’d
think they’d be a little bit impressed that I once ate in the
same restaurant as Bradley Cooper.”

“Imogen,
you do remember that I never really cared too much about your new
shoes or your celebrity gossip, either, don’t you?”

“Well,
yeah,” she said. “But that’s different. You’re
you, Lizzie.” She squeezed my arm. “My lovely friend who
never looked down on me when I was excited about something.”

I
squeezed back. “I do miss you.”

“I
wish you would consider coming back to work now that Thomas is in
London.”

“I’m
still not ready to be away from my mother for that long,” I
told her. “But I’ll be in town quite a bit—I’m
going to fly over as often as I can.”

“What
about after the wedding?” she asked. “Where will you
live?”

“Here.
We’re going to get a place of our own.”

She
released me to clap her hands together. “That’s so
exciting! Oh, I’m so happy. I always hated that pokey little
flat in Bayswater. I never could figure out why the two of you would
want to be somewhere so…normal. When you had all of London to
choose from!”

“Bayswater
was home,” I told her, knowing she wouldn’t understand.
To Imogen, if you had the chance to live somewhere glamorous and
expensive, you took it.

We
reached the sushi place and found a table. Imogen pointed out her
favorite items on the menu, gushing about each in her uniquely
enthusiastic way. Only Imogen could make sushi sound like the most
exciting thing you’d experience all day. After we placed our
order, she turned to me. “Okay, spill. I want to hear every
detail about this wedding.”