Daddy's Virgin Bride

by Nikki Bella

  “It is over the top, isn’t it?” I said. “Well. Anything for the tabloids, I guess.”

  The woman who worked at the church brought Gigi and I cocktails. Mine were gin-based, delicious and fresh, while Gigi’s were mostly sparkling juice and soda, with fruit floating on top. She giggled, telling me a story about a boy she’d met at the playground—George was his name, with a soft G. She asked me if I loved her daddy. I said I did. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel that stab of the lie in my stomach, making me think that, perhaps, after everything that had happened, I really did love him.

  Was I happy that I was in love with the groom? Or was it the greatest tragedy of my life, as I knew he couldn’t love me back?

  The gown was impossibly heavy. When I stood in it, my makeup already glossed on, my lips tart and red, I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. The lady who worked at the church tittered. Tears glittered in her eyes but I was dry-eyed, cautious, afraid. I placed my hand at Gigi’s back, heading toward the cathedral below. It was nearly time to walk down the aisle. It was nearly time to seal this “deal.”

  The music began. It was a traditional wedding song, played by a top French organist. Peering at the back end of the small cathedral, I watched as Marcus and Jack stood and waited for me. Marcus was antsy, scratching at his ear and drawing his eyes across the small crowd. Only about ten or twelve people were sitting in the first few aisles, with paparazzi photographers on either side. I could feel the flash on my face, even from far away.

  Gigi led me down the aisle. She tossed flowers on either side, with expert ability. The flowers collected in the long train of my dress as I walked past. I heard one woman say, “A bit much, isn’t it?” While another said, “I’d kill to wear that dress.”

  At the front, I fell into the ceremony. The priest spoke in only French, leading us. When Jack nodded to me, I said, “Oui.” And suddenly, I was married. We kissed, but his lips felt plastic on mine. It wasn’t the same kiss from the night before. As the music roared around us, showing that it was the end of the ceremony, he held onto my hand and squeezed it. “Good job,” he said, speaking through the music so that nobody else could hear him. “We did it, baby.”

  We fooled them. These words sizzled in my ear. We walked down the aisle, grinning madly at the paparazzi, hamming it up. Then, Jack, Gigi, and I stepped into a private limousine, waving at the small crowd behind us. It was difficult, scooping my dress into the back with us. “It’s like another entire person,” I joked. Gigi collected it on her lap, toying with the jewels. When the car door shut, finally, it felt like we existed in a vacuum. Everyone was silent.

  The party was held at a gorgeous restaurant in Montmartre. It had an incredible view of the city, stretching out before us as we clinked our champagne glasses and kissed again, for everyone to see. I removed the train of the dress, allowing me to step through the restaurant more easily.

  I can’t say that the party wasn’t a hit. The food was amazing, with both a vegetarian and a meat option, gorgeous, glazed vegetables, breads—of course—and cheeses of all varieties. The wine flowed like it came from the faucet. The friends who’d arrived, both French and not, kissed me on the cheek and told me how beautiful I looked. I felt lost, not myself, like an actress. Occasionally, Marcus whispered into my ear, saying, “You’re doing great, champ. Just keep up the smile a little bit longer.”

  He knew it was a scam. I knew that, too. Maybe they all did.

  I was the only one for whom this marriage was, in any sense, real. Jack Garrington was the only person on the planet who had my virginity.

  At around nine at night, a figure appeared in the doorway. Dressed in an immaculate, maroon dress, with thin arms and wide shoulders and large breasts that crested from her neckline, she was the very portrait of beauty. Several years older than me, she seemed mature, sharp and intelligent. She assessed me with eagle eyes. I stopped drinking my champagne, gazing back at her.

  “Kelsey.” Jack said the word. His friends quieted down with her entrance. The air simmered as Jack walked forward, his strides long. He took her hand and kissed the top of it, making my stomach churn with jealousy.

  Gigi remained at my side. She tugged at my dress, gazing up at me. Her bottom lip quivered. “Does this mean I have to go with her, now?” she asked. “Do I have to go back with mommy?”

  “No, sweetheart,” I said. “Of course not.”

  But I wasn’t sure. This was Jack’s ex-wife, the woman he’d literally run away from. How had she discovered us? How did she know?

  “I’m glad I caught some of the celebration,” Kelsey said, her voice dry. “I don’t think I would be able to bear it, if I’d missed it all.”

  Jack gestured back at me. “Margot. This is my ex-wife, Kelsey.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, my voice sounding like a Sunday school teacher’s. “Welcome.”

  Kelsey stepped forward. She was aggressive, her eyes wide. “You look absolutely gorgeous, my dear. Although, I must say, youth does so much for you. What are you? Twenty-four?”

  I nodded, not wanting to fess up that my real age was younger.

  “I wanted to say congratulations. The moment I heard of your surprise engagement and wedding, I knew I couldn’t let this happen without me. We’re a big, old, happy family. Aren’t we, Gigi?”

  Gigi didn’t respond. She clung closer to my side, her eyes round and staring. I was beginning to get an even better picture for what Gigi’s family life was like, at home. A flicker of understanding passed between Jack—my husband—and I.

  “Well, this is no way to behave on your wedding day,” Kelsey said, her voice high-pitched. “I have brought you a present, if you must know. Didn’t come empty handed. I know better than that. Been living in high society long enough, eh, Jack?”

  She snapped her fingers. A younger man appeared in the doorway, holding onto a fuzzy ball. He placed it on the ground, all quivering legs, and the mop-headed thing ran toward Gigi. Her arms reached out for it. She squealed. “A puppy!”

  The thing was gorgeous, black and white spotted and clearly high-bred and bright-eyed, slobbering only slightly. Like a cartoon dog, he kissed Gigi in greeting, licking at her cheeks and lips. She giggled.

  “Wow, Kelsey,” Jack said, eyeing her. “You really didn’t have to.”

  Kelsey hadn’t taken her eyes off of me. She sniffed once more, scowling, and pointed toward the terrace. With a click of her head, she asked, “Jack? Do you think I could talk to you, alone, for a second? I don’t want to interrupt the party. Just brief, parent to parent…”

  Jack grabbed her elbow and led her outside, closing the door behind them. They left me in the shadow of his many friends, who were all silent and staring at me. Gigi was beneath me, still playing with the dog and laughing. Already, hair had begun to collect on both her gown and mine. With a sigh, I guided them both toward the far end of the room, where I poured some water into a spare cup and gave it to the pup.

  Marcus approached me, grimacing. He gestured toward Kelsey and Jack, who were speaking to one another with sour faces. He shook his head, shrugging softly. “You can’t really know what that woman is up to. But she certainly made her entrance, in front of the photographers.”

  “What kind of story will they cook up, based on that?” I asked, my throat feeling tight. “You don’t think she’ll…”

  “She doesn’t know enough. She might suspect, but she doesn’t have proof. Nobody does,” Marcus whispered.

  God, I hoped he was right. I pressed my lips together and tried to focus on Gigi and the puppy, kneeling down onto the floor with them. Gigi cackled, her face like a giant sunbeam. I had never seen her so happy. I told myself, over and over, that I’d given my life to this man to save hers. Perhaps that was enough.

  Jack

  Kelsey showing up had certainly been a shock. Seeing her—regal, tall, mature—in the doorway had sobered me a great deal. All the champagne, bubbling in my head, had burned away in the heat of my anxi
ety. I had to look at the scene with a realistic eye.

  Of course, I had asked Michael to “whisper” the news of my marriage to several different outlets. Kelsey reading “JACK GARRINGTON RUMORED TO BE MARRYING SECRET GF IN PARIS” would have been enough to bring her here, perhaps just out of curiosity.

  And now, here she was.

  We stood on the terrace in the heat of the July night. This woman, who’d I’d first fallen in love with as a much, much younger man, seemed like a stranger. Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead, without wrinkling that porcelain skin of hers in the least. I remembered when she’d first gotten plastic surgery. Her face had seemed so plastic. Like a version of herself made of modeling clay. Even her laugh had been different.

  “What is all this about, Jack?” she asked me. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She glared.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her, playing innocent.

  “This sham wedding.”

  I matched her stance, glaring down at her. “This isn’t a sham wedding. Do you want to see the documents?”

  “All right. Sure. You got some strange, poor girl to marry you so you could take Gigi away from me,” she said, her voice tart. “That’s really disgusting, you know that? I leave New York for one week, and I come back and my daughter’s just fucking…gone.”

  “You mean you don’t want to talk about the time you literally lost her in the Caribbean, because you thought you’d gotten a babysitter but you hadn’t?” I glowered. “Or the time she hung out on your movie set with the sound guy for ten hours, while you boned the director?”

  She placed her delicate hands over her ears. I knew these were fighting words. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes flashed. “Stop. Stop. Just stop.”

  “Listen,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was acting, at this point. “That girl in there. Our daughter. She’s been happier, in the past few weeks, than I’ve seen her in years. And it’s because she’s here with me and Margot. I love them both to the bone, Kelsey. Can’t you just let me have that, for once? Can’t you just let me be happy?”

  Kelsey’s bottom lip quivered. We hadn’t spoken to each other so frankly in all the years we’d known each other. Usually our conversations were filtered between assistants and lawyers and agents. She glanced back into the restaurant, her eye catching on Margot. “She has the most beautiful, pure smile,” she said. “Tell me. How did you get her to fall for you? And where did you find such an innocent person in New York?”

  My brain scrambled for the lie. I swallowed. “I met her in a bar in Brooklyn, of all places. I had the first normal conversation I’ve had with anyone in years. I felt like a regular guy. Not like Jack Garrington, celebrity and actor. Just like… Jack Garrington, from Pennsylvania.”

  Kelsey smirked. “I think I might remember Jack Garrington from Pennsylvania.”

  “You were never anything but a celebrity, K,” I said, bowing my head. “I still remember it. I fucking worshipped you.”

  “Stop.”

  I looked at her for a long time. My heart hammered in my chest. I knew that Margot and I were one wrong word, one wrong move, from not getting away with this “sham” marriage. But I also knew that everything I’d said about Margot was absolutely true. She did make me feel normal—in the grandest, most three-dimensional way. I was addicted to it.

  Perhaps that meant I was using her.

  But wasn’t she using me in return?

  Isn’t that all any relationship was? Using one another, into infinity? Or until one of you got tired of the game?

  Kelsey was staring at our daughter again. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Gigi does look happier than I’ve seen her in years,” she said, her voice in a low whisper. “I forgot how easy it used to be to make her laugh.”

  “She’s picking up French, as well,” I said, boasting. “She speaks in this strange mix between the two. And I’ve already started looking at schools for the Fall.”

  Kelsey raised her hand, stretching the fingers thin. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, sniffing.

  “I know. I know. It’s a lot to ask you to give up your daughter,” I said. “But I needed to get out of New York. Margot and I both did. And we’ve built something for Gigi here that’s irreplaceable. Can’t you see that?”

  I was relieved to see Kelsey nod her head. Yes. She did. She traced her tongue along her white teeth, inhaling sharply. “Okay. Okay, okay,” she whispered. “I’ll tell my lawyer to back up. I’ll give you guys six months, and then we can reevaluate. I’ll of course use this as an excuse to come visit you in Paris often. You’ll be seeing quite a bit of Kelsey Bonner. Maybe I’ll even take a French lover.”

  I laughed, feeling my heart grow light in my chest. I brought my hand to hers, giving it a firm squeeze. There was nothing between us, now. Nothing sizzled. But at the same time, the war was over.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice low. “I don’t think you know what this means to me. To me and Margot, that is.”

  “You better love that girl well,” Kelsey said, drawing back from me. She dropped my hand. “She’s young and malleable and unsure, but I can tell—she loves you more than you could ever know. You have that effect over women. Use it well.”

  I watched Kelsey leave the terrace and head back inside. She stole a glass of champagne from a table and sipped it, leaning down to speak to Gigi. Her eyes were alight, showing that she really did love the kid. She did. She just didn’t have the patience to be a mother. How were we to know that, going into it, almost a decade ago? How could we have known what the future would bring?

  My eyes traced Margot’s frame. She was focusing on Kelsey’s demeanor, growing less and less worried as the minutes ticked away. She and Marcus met eyes. He winked at her. Perhaps they sensed that we’d gotten away with it. That it was all over. The tabloids would cease. Gigi could remain with me.

  The world would keep turning, without panic.

  Margot

  Kelsey left the reception after just two hours. She waved her phone in my face, saying, “Paris is waiting, and I can see that Jack is in good hands. So I’ll see myself out. Congratulations to you both, darlings. Really.” She leaned down and kissed Gigi’s tired cheek, giving a pat to the dog. “What are you going to name him, baby?”

  “Charlie,” Gigi said, using a French accent to make the “ch” soft. “Charlie is the best name in the world.”

  “Well, Charlie,” Kelsey echoed, in the American way. “Welcome to your new family.”

  Gigi and I watched her leave. Gigi collected my hand into hers and squeezed it, whispering, “Do you think we could go to bed soon? I’m so tired.”

  I glanced at the wedding party. Jack was falling into laughter alongside Marcus, a hand over his stomach. His mouth was wide, his teeth flashing. Marcus was finishing a tirade about New York, clearly one of the great fiery lives of the party. My heart ached. I wanted to go home.

  The plates were cleaned of food, but the wine continued to flow. I traced through the small group, tugging at Jack’s elbow. In response, his friends began to clink their forks against their glasses, telling us to “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” My heart hammered with anxiety. I looked up at him and met his lips with mine. Sexual desire made my stomach go wild with butterflies. But as I moved away from him, wishing he would come home with me, he just whispered, “You can take Gigi home, can’t you? I don’t want to leave the guests.”

  I was falling into the role he’d laid out for me. Housewife. Babysitter. I saw it, now. I brought my hand over Gigi’s shoulders and guided her to the doorway, not bothering to say goodbye. I led the dog with a leash. I felt a final few flashes from the photographers, the paparazzi, on my cheeks. I left the rest of the dress in the corner, thinking someone could throw it out with the garbage. I didn’t need it anymore.

  I held Gigi in my arms. Despite being eight, she was still thin-boned and light, and I carried her into the waiting car below. She fell asleep against me in the backseat as I watched Paris fly by bes
ide us. A light rain had sprung up, putting people under black umbrellas, their noses to the ground. It dribbled down the window, putting a haze over my emotions. Was I happy? Was I sad? Had I made the wrong choice? It wasn’t clear.

  I carried Gigi up the steps of the Marais apartment, with the dog following close behind, and helped her change from her dress and into her pajamas. Her limbs were like spaghetti strings. “I drank too many juice cocktails,” she whispered. “I must be drunk.”

  I giggled, kissing the top of her head. The blonde curls were mostly taut, with a few flyaway hairs. These were my favorite. They reminded me that she’d once been a smaller girl, the stuff of daydreams. A little baby, like one I wanted to have for myself.

  Not that Gigi wasn’t enough. Of course she was.

  And not that Jack would want to have a baby with me, anyway.

  When Gigi was completely tucked away, with the dog sleeping at her feet, I walked into the living room and draped myself across the couch. I was still in my dress, almost feeling as if it were a part of me. It stuck to my skin, moved with me. My eyelids fluttered as I waited, knowing I didn’t want to fall asleep without Jack.

  I wanted to see if we’d fall into each other again. If we’d make love. If I’d see that same glint in his eyes, the one I’d seen the night before when we’d kissed each other hungrily, both wanting the same thing, for once.

  I just wanted to see.

  Nearly an hour later, Jack blasted through the door. He was slightly drunk, holding onto a bottle of champagne that was open, guzzled from the top. He flashed that confident smile, making my heart hammer with lust.

  “Hi, baby,” he said. “My wife. Look at you.”

  I sat up, blinking several times to take him in. “How was the rest of the party?” I asked, after a long pause. I knew the words seemed flat and stunted.