Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series) (23 page)

I turn and size up the model; it’s obvious she didn’t provide accurate measurements to the agency. “Send her over to Marcy. She has a couple back up pieces we could try.” I turn and begin examining the schedule, making sure the order the pieces appear on stage in is complementary, but I still can’t concentrate. Trailing after each thought is one about Henry.

“How are you doing?” Emmie asks, moving in next to me.

“I’m great,” I lie. “I can’t believe Eva lent me Marcy for the night. It’s such a huge help.” I’d worked under Eva in Paris when she launched her line. Marcy was my replacement, and boy, is she amazing.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Emmie interjects.

“I don’t understand, what do you mean then?”

“I get off the plane this morning and when I get to your place, you drop the ‘Henry has cancer’ bomb on me, and then we come here. What I mean is, how are you holding up?”

I shake my head and smile at my friend. “I’m not going to let myself get down. Henry said that the doctors told him half the battle is keeping a positive attitude. I wish he didn’t have to have treatments before our honeymoon, but I guess the sooner they start the better.”

“Paige, honey, do you really think it’s a good idea to get married right now?” Emmie asks softly, reaching out and touching my arm.

“What? Henry’s sick so I should just abandon him?”

“No, and I think you know me well enough to know that’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you should end it with him, but when you left Texas last week you told me you were coming home to tell Henry you still loved Christian.”

“I was wrong!” I shout, pulling away, and flashing my friend a warning look.

“I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want you to make any rash decisions.”

“That’s exactly what I was doing with Christian. I’d been away from Henry for months, we were barely talking, I was lonely, and it gave Christian the opening to work his way in, and make me have doubts.”

“Sweetie, all I’m saying is why not postpone the wedding? It might be easier on Henry,” Emmie suggests.

“Henry wants to get married as badly as I do. I’m just thankful I didn’t do anything with Christian that I can’t undo,” I explain, doing my best to keep the volume of my voice in check.

“Fine, I care about you and—”

“You promised,” I remind her.

“I know—no telling Colin or Christian about Henry’s illness. And I won’t. If you’re sure this’s what you really want, and not just because Henry’s sick, then I won’t say another word about it,” Emmie relents.

I take a step forward, firmly grasping my friend’s hands with my own, my voice shaking and my eyes burning with tears. “I love Henry and … I don’t know, I guess— some part of me still loves Christian. But what I had with Christian is in my past, and that’s where it should stay. I knew that the moment Henry told me about the cancer; it was like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t breathe or think. I need him to be all right, because he’s my other half, and I love him. I can’t live without him.”

“I won’t say a word,” Emmie repeats in almost a whisper. “You two will get through this.”

Emmie opens her arms and pulls me into an embrace. It feels like her arms wrap around me five times, with warmth I so desperately need. An acceptance and understanding that I’ve been seeking since I told her. A comfort only my best friend can provide.

“It’s going to be such a long road. He’s been dealing with the headaches for so long he hardly sleeps. I noticed he even has trouble walking sometimes. What am I going to do?”

Emmie squeezes me tighter. “You’re going to fight. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. If anyone can do this, you can.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, a tear breaking free and running down my cheek.

LITTLE GIRLS DREAM about that perfect day, the one when they walk down the aisle and marry their soul mates, their white knights. It’s what fairytales are all about. What’s never in the fairy tale is finding out the prince has cancer.

Henry’s grandmother has taken care of all of the details regarding the big day with impeccable detail. There’s a level of elegance and sophistication that would have left any bride awestruck. The flowers are classic with a mixture of lilies and roses. Though I’d planned on designing the bridesmaids dresses myself, I hadn’t had time, but luckily Gram came through on those as well. They are a lovely muted gray, and the color reminds me of a sky just before a storm.

The photographer’s name is Jane. I requested another company, but apparently when you decide to hide out in the South for a couple months, you get whatever you get. On a positive note, she seems to be highly qualified. As she snaps moments of the girls and me getting ready, it’s hard for me to repeatedly gather my lips into a smile. The poor woman has no idea what’s happening in my life, and it’s impossible for her to understand that the day, which should be the happiest, now has a huge cloud hanging over it.

There are morning pictures in Central Park, the artistic shots in gritty alleyways, and the obligatory chapel images captured. I can see Jane has many more pre-ceremony poses planned, but I simply can’t force another toothy, fake grin. Much to Jane’s dismay, I inform her that we have enough images with the bride, but she is welcome to continue with the rest of the girls. Considering half my bridesmaids are model friends, they are used to long photo shoots. Based on Emmie’s glare, before I duck away, I don’t think she is nearly as understanding.

When I excuse myself, I have no idea where to go. I’m dressed in my handmade wedding gown, and popping into a coffee shop alone seems like a bad idea that will invite many unwanted questions. I decide to hide out in the dressing room of the church; merely being alone with my thoughts will be enough.

There is no detail left undone. The sanctuary is beautiful, from the natural lighting that glows on the marble, to the antique candelabras at each corner of the aisles. Even with all the beauty that surrounds me, I can’t seem to shake the thoughts that have been plaguing me since my return home.

Henry is sick. It’s a fact I’m going to have to accept and deal with. There’s a very real possibility that no matter how hard we fight this, he isn’t going to win. Every time the dark thoughts loom, my stomach begins to ache, and it isn’t just because of the fear. Something much worse is haunting me. Guilt.

Guilt ravages my thoughts. The times Christian and I had recently kissed replay over and over in my mind. The fact that I had been returning home to break Henry’s heart, it is becoming a burden I’m finding hard to carry. On multiple occasions I’ve considered sharing my transgressions with Henry, but I know him too well.

He already tried to provide me with a possible exit from our relationship. If he finds out about my regrettable mistakes with Christian, he will assume I’m marrying him out of pity and never allow the ceremony to happen. I can’t tell him.

In the past few days I’ve managed to distract myself with wedding details. Grandmother Wallace wanted to ensure all of the reception details were to my liking. Henry had always been a fan of their vacations in the Hamptons as a boy, so she wanted to bring the Hamptons to New York. I honestly could not have chosen anything better myself. As I see all the hard work she poured into the event I begin to regret the various control freak comments I’d made about the woman.

The menu is a traditional seaside lobster dinner, with long family-style seating, a request made by Henry. Even thought the guest list is quite extensive, he wants to do everything in his power to make it feel like an intimate celebration. The centerpieces contain touches of navy, white, and the gray from my bridesmaids dresses. She nailed the nautical details without it feeling like a cheesy, themed event.

Off to one side of the massive hall is a rustic rowboat with Henry and Paige painted along the side. For the evening’s events it will be loaded with ice and champagne. Staring at my reflection in the mirror before me, I can’t help wishing that the ceremony was over and Henry and I were on our way to the reception. I have this uneasy feeling that something is going to go wrong. That somehow I’m going to—

“Paige?” My breath catches in my throat when I hear the voice behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, hoping it’s only my imagination. Then I hear it again. “Paige, it’s me. It’s Christian.”

What is he doing here? My heart is racing. Opening my eyes, I turn my head slowly and see him standing at the entrance of the dressing room. The look on his face is one of sadness, which I don’t think I’ve seen on him since his parents died.

I stand and turn to face him, a rush of panicked thoughts race through my mind. What if someone sees him? What if Henry sees him? How do I make him leave? Is this my dream from months ago coming true?

He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, as if he’s expecting me to explain myself. But there is nothing to explain. I already told him everything when I called. It was the day after Henry told me about the cancer. I’d had an entire night for the information to sink in, to understand what I was doing. I was even more confident in my choice. I wanted to be with Henry, to see him through the tough fight he had ahead of him. I knew if Christian found out about Henry’s illness, he would assume I’d made my choice out of some false sense of loyalty and reveal my slip-up in Texas to Henry.

Instead I told him a variation of the truth, leaving out the bit about Henry being sick. I explained that once I saw Henry and our home, I’d realized that I’d made a mistake. I told him how I loved Henry and wanted nothing more than to be his wife, and I was positive what had happened between us had been an error in judgment.

He tried to argue with me, but each time I interrupted him sharply, ensuring him there was no use. I ended the conversation with a very direct instruction. I told him if he cared about me in any way that he needed to let me be happy, and to please never contact me again. Perhaps he would have still tried to plead his case, but I didn’t give him the chance. I simply hung up, and prayed he would stay in my past.

But here he is now, staring at me. I widen my eyes, then in an irritated tone ask, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores my question and instead says, “My God, you look incredible.”

“You can’t be here,” I snap. I can’t let his compliments and charm affect me. It’s a weakness I have, and I won’t allow myself to betray Henry any more than I already have.

He moves closer to me. The room suddenly feels very tiny. Lifting his hands, he says, “You won’t answer my calls, so what was I supposed to do?”

“Exactly what I asked you to do,” I answer without hesitation. “I love Henry. You need to leave us alone. Let us be happy.”

He flinches, as though my words cause him physical pain, and then shakes his head no. “I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe.” In the movies such a gesture comes across as romantic and grand, but all I can think about is how selfish he is to come here. I shudder as the thought of Henry finding out what I’ve done pops into my mind. “I’m marrying Henry, and that’s the end of it.”

He moves closer, as I take another step back and now find myself against the wall. “No, something happened. It had to. You can’t change your mind that fast. Did he say something to you? Paige …” Christian pauses as he considers his next words carefully. “Did he threaten you somehow?”

I laugh. “Really? You know nothing about me, do you? You think I would be with someone so cruel? I made a mistake in Texas. I’m just grateful it was only a kiss and nothing else happened.”

“It wasn’t just a kiss, and you know that,” he insists, before looking down at the ground, obviously struggling to hear the truth. My anger at his selfishness shifts into one of sorrow. No matter who is in my life, it seems I find a way to hurt them. I do love Christian. He was my first real love, and I know he’ll always have a place in my heart because of that. How can I explain to him that a man who has done nothing but honor and support me for four years needs me, and that I love Henry enough to make it work?

It’s clear to me he isn’t going to go easily, and as much as I want to let him down gently, I need to get him out of here and fast. I decide it’s time I pull out the big guns, so leaning forward I ask, “Just who do you think you are? You come in here and tell me everything I feel for Henry is a lie? Damn it, Christian! You don’t know me anymore. If you did, you wouldn’t be here. Yeah, we kissed, it was nice, but that was it. It was the memories of what we were, but nothing we can ever be.”

“Bullshit!” he snaps. “I know you felt it, too. That night I held you was the best I’ve slept in years.”

Narrowing my stare, I look directly in his eyes. Forcefully, I say, “I’m sorry that moment was something more for you than it was for me. All it took was seeing Henry for me to realize my life is here with him. I’m not the same girl you fell in love with, and I think that’s who you see when you look at me. I’ve grown into a strong woman, one too strong to just to fall back into a broken relationship.”

“What are you talking about? I want you because you are strong. I see you for exactly who you’ve become—at least I thought I did.”