Faking Paradise

by Lily Montgomery

  “Oh, not you, too.” I unzipped the rest of the dresses, letting them air out on the rack.

  “We can all tell,” Vivian said.

  A gentle knock was at the door and I thanked the heavens for the distraction.

  “Come in!” I called. Jesus, God, come in and save me.

  My salvation came in the form of my mother. Which is to say, no salvation at all.

  “What’s the matter, Sophie? You look quite put out. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

  “Sophie doesn’t think Grant is in love with her,” Rebecca blurted.

  The traitor! I gave her a wide-eyed glare, but it was her wedding day, which meant she knew the threat was empty.

  “Well, I would certainly hope you are if you’re sharing a hotel room,” she whispered the last part like no one else knew I was a thirty-year-old woman with a sex drive.

  “You don’t have to be in love to share a hotel room,” I whispered in return, flustering Mom.

  “You know how I know he’s in love with you?” Vivian asked.

  “No, and I don’t care to.” I pulled my curling iron, makeup, and other things out of my duffle bag to start getting ready and hopefully signal that I was done talking about this.

  “The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking,” Vivian said.

  “Oh, please. That only happens in romantic comedies.” My shapewear was stuck to my curling iron and I shoved them back down in the duffel.

  “That, and his eyes dilate when he looks at you,” she added.

  “Is that the scientific indicator of love?” I looked around for a plug.

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Well, if you’re close enough to him to see his pupils dilate, maybe you should take a few steps back.” I found an outlet.

  “Well, that, and he had to hold a life vest in his lap on the way home from swimming with the dolphins because he had a stiffy after you bent over in your bikini,” Rebecca added, sipping her mimosa.

  “He did not! And besides, lust and love aren’t the same thing!” I said while Mom was wailing about her sweet, innocent little girls.

  “Mother, it is a scientific response to a visual that the man finds sexually stimulating,” Vivian tried to rationalize, to no avail. Mother continued to prattle on, wiping her tears with a pristine white hanky she always kept, “as a lady should.” I had fast-food napkins shoved in the bottom of my purse.

  “You are not helping things,” I said to Vivian.

  “Well, it’s true!” she said.

  “This is not a human sexuality lecture, Viv. Our mother is about to have a shittin’ hemorrhage, and you can’t stop talking about stiffies and his pupils.”

  “Sophie, there’s no need for language,” Mom said between sniffles.

  “This conversation is over,” I announced, sitting in front of a mirror and sectioning off my hair to curl.

  “Do you love him back?” Maisy asked quietly.

  “I said it’s over.” I realized I’d been trying to curl my hair with a curling iron that hadn’t even been turned on, so I flipped the switch and tried to busy myself with sectioning my hair.

  Another knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Rebecca called.

  “Hi.”

  We all turned to stare at Grant, who was standing in the doorway, very aware of the tense silence that surrounded him.

  He glanced around nervously. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Not at all,” I said with a forced brightness.

  “The photographer is here,” he said. “And I was just going to see if you ladies needed anything.”

  “Just the biggest Bloody Mary you can buy.” I held the now hot curling iron in my hair as he came over to give me a quick kiss.

  “Sure thing, sweetie.”

  As he left, I could feel all the eyes on me, but I ignored them, curling my hair as if nothing had happened. Eventually, the chatter resumed, and the topic of Grant was dropped, but one particular thing stuck in my mind.

  Do I love him back?

  18

  The question rattled around my brain all through pictures, and I just knew I looked confused in most of them. Truth was, I’d never been more confused in my life. My crush on Grant was harmless. Just a little work crush. Now everyone had me questioning my own feelings. I shook myself, trying for a non-confused smile. Maybe she’d have one decent one. It didn’t matter how I felt, because Grant was just playing a part.

  “Okay, just the groomsmen,” the photographer announced, and I took a seat in the front row. Rebecca had decided to do pictures before and after the ceremony to reduce the wait time between the wedding and reception.

  “Are you okay?” Grant asked as he sat next to me. My heart started beating in my throat when he put his arm around me.

  Jesus, is that my heart or a frog trying to escape?

  “What? Yes. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” I straightened my already straight skirt.

  “I don’t know,” he chuckled. “You’re not having cold feet are you?”

  “Cold feet? I didn’t know bridesmaids could get cold feet.” I clutched my throat, trying to push the frog back down.

  “I went to check on Sophie the dolphin while you were getting ready.”

  That managed to snap me from my thoughts, and I turned to him.

  “She’s doing great, they said. Even started trying to play with the caretaker.”

  He kept talking, but I wasn’t sure what he was saying. This man who was a temporary fixture in my life had been sweeter to me than most of my exes combined. He’d adopted a dolphin for me, told me I was damn good at my job, gave me confidence when the magazines said I wasn’t good enough. He carried me when I’d hurt my ankle and held my hand when I’d gotten stitched up. He made me laugh so I wouldn’t cry at the pain, and he helped me hide my crutches, even if it meant he had to support most of my body weight at the beginning. He stood up to my mom and ate a giant dessert with me, and then midnight pizza after, making me feel like a goddess.

  He said something that I didn’t register, kissed me, and left, leaving me with a newfound revelation.

  “Well, I have my answer,” Maisy said, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the back of the seat beside me. Apparently, she’d been sitting in the row behind all along, watching me struggle for air.

  “What? What are you talking about?” I feigned stupidity.

  “You’re in love,” she drew the last word out into a song.

  I could barely admit it to myself, much less to Maisy. I’d gone and caught feelings from someone who would forget about our week as soon as he landed his next bimbo.

  Fuck.

  The photographer announced that she’d gotten enough photos, and that we were to head back to the waiting room for the bridal party.

  “Hey, Soph,” Grant called, motioning me off the pathway. I recognized the place where we’d had the date that was rained out. “I got you something.”

  The frog was back. “Oh, Grant, I can’t accept a—”

  He opened a small box to reveal a necklace with a dainty pink Hawaiian hibiscus dangling from a delicate silver chain.

  “Oh,” I breathed, touching the flower.

  “Turn around,” he instructed.

  “No, Grant, I can’t. This is too much, really.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’ve had more fun with you this week than I ever remember having. This is a thank you. When we get back to New York, I hope we can stay friends. No strings attached, just friends.”

  I pulled my hair around and turned, letting him place the necklace around my neck. It fell just above the line of the dress. When I turned back around, he gave me a kiss that was different than the others. Less hungry and more… sad? Breaking the kiss, he placed his forehead to mine and cradled the necklace in his hand.

  “Best go before the guests start arriving.” He kissed my forehead and gave me a smack on the ass as I turned to leave.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to d
o now?” I asked myself through gritted teeth. I needed to get rid of these feelings, and fast. I’d expected a week with a womanizer playing a part, and what I’d gotten instead was a romantic week and fucking feelings. I’d focus on his flaws. He didn’t believe in traveling comfortably. He brushed his teeth with cold water. He paid more for a pair of boxer briefs than I paid for my entire panty drawer. He pronounced it pee-can instead of puh-cahn. He had excellent taste in jewelry. He rinsed the sink after he was done shaving. He—wait. I’d gotten distracted.

  Shit. I opened the door to the bridal party room to see my sisters, as well as Jordan’s, huddled together.

  “Sophie, get your ass over here,” Rebecca said, eliciting a stern look from Mom.

  I joined the huddle to see she was holding a box, and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

  “I just wanted to take this time that we’re waiting to talk to you girls. I want to thank every single one of you for being there for me when I needed you. Sophie, you’re my big sister, and without you I wouldn’t be half the badass I am today. You always showed me that strength is important, especially as a girl and a woman. Strength of character is not a liability, it’s an asset. Thank you for always being so strong.” From the bag, she handed me a small velvet drawstring pouch, nodding for me to open it.

  I pulled out a bracelet made from small stones that were a brilliant turquoise, which reminded me of the clear ocean. The silver charm hanging from it had a word I didn’t recognize: ikaika.

  “It’s Hawaiian for strength,” she said.

  I tried to thank her through my tears, but all I could manage was a hug.

  “Okay, you’re going to make me ruin my makeup,” Rebecca said, breaking the hug. “Vivian,” she continued, “you showed me that intelligence is not something to hide, and if someone is intimidated by it, they’re not worth my time. Thank you for showing me that if I want something, I have to go after it, even if I’m up against some stiff competition.” Vivian’s bracelet had the word “akamai,” which meant “intelligent.”

  “Maisy, you have shown me that while strength is important, so is kindness and compassion. Sometimes all we need in life is a sweet friend to be there when we need them the most, and I strive to be that friend to you and to others.” Maisy’s word was “maika’i” for “kindness.”

  “Nicole, you are the one who introduced me to Jordan. When you asked me to spend the night with you senior year, I don’t think you intended for it to lead to you finding me and Jordan making out in the laundry room, but I’m so glad it did. Thanks to you, I have my soulmate. And you’ve shown me that family isn’t just blood.” Nicole’s bracelet read “kaikaina,” for “sister.”

  When we were all sufficiently blubbering, the wedding coordinator informed us that it was time to take our places.

  “Okay, girls, let’s do this!” Rebecca dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and picked up her bouquet.

  The coordinator led us from the small room to the small grove of bushes and palm trees that would hide Rebecca until she made her entrance.

  “You look lovely,” Carlton said as he took my arm.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself,” I said.

  The music began, and the wedding coordinator gave us cues when it was our turn to walk out. I kept my eyes open for Grant in the congregation, and I found him about midway, smiling at me, and I know I was smiling like a loon right back. When I took my place on stage, I found him again, still looking at me with a sweet half smile.

  The officiant motioned for the congregation to stand for Rebecca’s entrance, and I giggled, blushing like a teen when Grant stood, but didn't turn to look at Rebecca. I gave a subtle pleading look for him to behave, and with one last glance at me, he turned toward Rebecca.

  I turned toward Jordan. They’d already seen each other, but I wanted to see his reaction. He was crying, same as before. I smiled at the love in his eyes. Rebecca was crying, too, which made me start up again.

  The ceremony was gorgeous, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when Vivian and Maisy performed a duet. I’d heard them sing the song a thousand times, but it never got old.

  Cheers and whistles rang out as the officiant announced Jordan and Rebecca as husband and wife.

  After we took a few more photos with the sunset as a backdrop, Carlton escorted me into the reception area, where Grant almost immediately presented me with a champagne flute.

  “Hi, I’m Carlton.” He extended his hand and shook Grant’s.

  “Grant. I’m Sophie’s boyfriend.”

  My heart squeezed. I’d miss hearing him say that. I took a deep drink.

  “Well, you have a very lovely girlfriend,” Carlton said, excusing himself.

  “Thank you,” Grant said. “Here’s to our last night in paradise.” He saluted me with his champagne.

  Rebecca and Jordan were announced once again, and it was time for dinner, which was somehow more delicious this time than the test round the other night.

  “You know, there’s something on my bucket list that I’ve been wanting to cross off for some time now, but no one’s ever been willing,” Grant whispered so close, I could feel his breath tickle my neck, giving me goose bumps.

  “What’s that?” I sipped champagne.

  “I’ve always wanted to have sex at a wedding.”

  I gulped the champagne down.

  “What do you say?” He rubbed his lips softly on my cheeks, intensifying the shivers.

  “I...I don’t know,” I said. How could I have casual sex with him now that I knew I loved him? That would certainly complicate things. And complicated wasn’t what I needed right now. Boy, I was in big trouble.

  “Please,” he said, hand traveling up my thigh.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  Five champagnes later and he was hiking up my dress in the room where we’d gotten dressed earlier. My back was up against the wall, legs wrapped around him as he moved inside me. There’d been no preamble this time, and I was just drunk enough that I didn’t care. But not so drunk that he refused me. I gripped his shoulders and he bit the soft spot where my neck and shoulders met.

  “God,” I said. I was getting so close.

  The door handle began to jiggle, and our faces snapped to the door.

  “I just left my purse in there. I need to get it,” my mother’s voice filtered through the door. Oh, God, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, not wanting to stop, but absolutely not wanting to orgasm with my mother fifteen feet away.

  “Can you finish quietly?” Grant whispered, and I nodded. Right now I could finish while reciting the alphabet in Spanish backward, that’s how close I had been. “Do you trust me?”

  I nodded again. Supporting my weight, Grant walked to the bathroom that was close by, locking the door behind us and putting my back to the door. Once again, he started moving, but this time I found myself without the top of my dress, and suddenly I’d forgotten about the interruption. His mouth moved across me as I fought my natural urge to moan. I grabbed a handful of his hair as I finished, gasping quietly for air as he slowed. My head fell back against the door as I fought for breath.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “Anytime.”

  19

  I stared at our packed bags, not ready to begin the long trip home. I finished eating the granola bar and walked to the waste basket to throw the wrapper away, when something behind it caught my eye. Condom wrapper. I picked it up to throw it away and was hit by a paralyzing thought. We didn’t use condoms. Shit. We hadn’t used them the last two times we’d had sex. Fuck.

  “Grant!” I yelled around a mouthful of granola crumbs. It was like trying to whistle with a mouthful of crackers. “Grant!”

  “What?” He opened the bathroom door, wearing his underwear and brushing his teeth. Taking in my panicked expression, he walked over to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “We forgot something last night.” I
held up the wrapper.

  “Oh, shit. Are you ovulating?”

  “I don’t fucking know,” I said. I was thirty and single; ovulation was the absolute last thing I was keeping up with.

  He checked his watch and ran back in the bathroom, dressing as quickly as possible. “I’ll call the cab company, have them send us a cab immediately. We’ve got enough time to go to the drug store.”

  “You want me to take an ovulation test in a drugstore bathroom?” I threw the wrapper away.

  “No, I want you to take a Plan B. Or two.” He held the phone with his shoulder as he put his slip-on tennis shoes on and chewed on his toothbrush. “Yes, this is Grant Johnson. I had a cab scheduled for 6am, but I need one sooner than that. As soon as possible. Thank you. There’s one on its way now.”

  I took in his outfit and grinned.

  “What, what are you laughing at?” He looked down.

  “Gray sweatpants, a white V-neck, and a cardigan. Grant Johnson, are you dressed comfortably for travel?” How was I so calm?

  “Yeah, well I figured if you looked like a hobo, we might as well match.” He grabbed the sides of my oversized sweater, pulling me to him. “I’ve had one hell of a week, Sophie McAllister.”

  “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Johnson.” I teasingly put my hand out for a handshake, giggling when he used it to pull me in for a kiss.

  “And now to get that Plan B so that this week doesn’t result in something else, eh?”

  “Yep.” I gathered my belongings, and we headed to the lobby to meet the cab.

  I’d never bought a Plan B before, but apparently Grant had, and didn’t react at all to the price, which had my jaw on the floor. Fifty bucks? Damn.

  I washed it down with a cold coffee drink from the cooler section, and for some reason I expected to feel something. Though I wasn’t sure what. I shrugged, taking another gulp.

  Our trip through the airport was quiet, and I could feel an air of sadness from both of us that the week was over. Back to reality. Back to the Brenda Noble Agency. Back to being unappreciated. We had a few minutes before boarding, and I pulled my medicine bag out of my carry-on, looking for the pill that would help me not stress on the plane. Grant’s arm was around me, and he was subconsciously rubbing circles on my shoulder. I smiled, recognizing it as one of his little quirks, and put the medicine pouch back in my bag. Pill unswallowed.