by Lisa Kleypas
“I’m not going to leave you by yourself here.”
“I won’t be alone. I have the business, and our friends, and…” She paused and colored.
“Steven,” I said.
Sofia nodded, her eyes sparkling.
“What is it?” I demanded. “What?”
“He loves me. He told me.”
“And you said it back?”
“I did.”
“Did you say it back because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings or because he’s the first man you’ve ever experienced foreplay with, or because you really love him?”
Sofia smiled. “I said it back because I love him for his heart, his soul, and his interesting, complicated brain.” She paused. “The foreplay doesn’t hurt.”
I gave a wondering laugh. “When was the moment you realized you loved him?”
“There wasn’t a moment. It was like uncovering something that was there all along.”
“It’s serious, then? Living-together serious?”
“Talking-about-marriage serious.” Sofia hesitated. “Do we have your approval?”
“Of course you do. No one’s good enough for you, but Steven’s as close as you’re going to get.” I braced my elbows on the table and pressed my fingertips against my temples. “The two of you could handle the business,” I mused aloud. “Steven can do what I do. You’re the only truly indispensable person around here – you’re the creative engine. All you need are people to make your ideas happen.”
“What would it be like for you,” Sofia asked, “hosting a show like Rock the Wedding? Would you have to come up with ideas?”
I shook my head. “I imagine most of it will be preplanned and staged. My role will be to flail around like Lucy Ricardo and then pull everything together at the end. There’ll be pratfalls and manufactured crises, and countless views of my cleavage and my weird dog.”
“It’s going to be such a big hit,” Sofia said in awe.
“I know,” I said, and we both squealed.
Sobering after a minute, she asked, “What about Joe?”
The question made my stomach hurt. “I don’t know.”
“Lots of people do long-distance,” Sofia said. “If two people want to make it work, they can.”
“That’s true,” I said. “Joe’s got enough money to travel as much as he wants.”
“It could make the relationship even better,” Sofia volunteered. “You would never get sick of each other.”
“Quality time instead of quantity.”
Sofia nodded vigorously. “Everything will be fine.”
Deep down I knew all of that was bullshit, but it sounded so good that I wanted to believe it. “I don’t think there’s any need to mention this to Joe until after I go to New York, do you?” I asked. “I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily.”
“I wouldn’t say anything until you know for sure.”
I lasted for most of the weekend without saying a word to Joe, but it nagged at me. I wanted to be up front with him, even though I was afraid of what he might say. I had problems sleeping, waking up repeatedly throughout the night and going through the next day exhausted. This cycle was repeated for two more days, until finally Joe turned on the light at midnight. “I feel like I’ve got a sack of puppies in bed,” he said, a note of exasperation in his voice, but his eyes were warm. “What’s going on, honey? Why can’t you sleep?”
I looked at him in the lamplight, at his concerned face and disheveled hair and that broad chest. I was suffused with a terrible feeling of longing, as if no matter how closely he held me, it would never be close enough. I huddled against him, and he murmured quietly, tucking the covers around us both. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
I told him everything, talking so fast that it was a wonder he could follow. I told him everything Jasmine had said about Trevor Stearns and Rock the Wedding, and how this was a chance that wouldn’t come my way again, and how it was everything I’d ever dreamed of.
Joe listened carefully, interrupting only to ask a question now and then. When I finally paused to take a breath, he eased my face away from his chest and looked down at me. His expression was unreadable. “Of course you have to talk to the producers,” he said. “You need to find out what the options are.”
“You’re not mad? Upset?”
“Hell, no, I’m proud of you. If this is what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”
I nearly gasped with relief. “Oh, God. I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was so worried. When you think about it, a long-distance relationship doesn’t have to be bad at all. As long as the two of us —”
“Avery,” he said gently, “I haven’t agreed to a long-distance relationship.”
Bewildered, I sat up to face him, pulling the silk straps of my nightgown back to my shoulders. “But you just said you’d support me.”
“I will. I want you to have whatever makes you happy.”
“I’d be happy if I could get this show and move to New York, and also keep my relationship with you.” Realizing how selfish that sounded, I added sheepishly, “So basically I want to have my cake, and also have my cake travel back and forth to visit me.”
I saw his quick grin, although there wasn’t much real amusement in it. “Cake doesn’t generally travel well.”
“Would you at least be willing to give it a try?” I asked. “With a long-distance relationship, you could have the benefits of being single, but you’d also have the security of —”
“I tried that a long time ago,” Joe interrupted quietly. “Never again. There’s no benefit, honey. You get tired of being lonely. Tired of all the miles between you. Every time you’re together, you’re giving a dying relationship CPR. If it’s a short-term separation, that’s different. But what you’re talking about… an open-ended arrangement with no stopping point… it’s a nonstarter.”
“You could move. You would have incredible opportunities in New York. Better than here.”
“Not better,” he countered calmly. “Just different.”
“Better,” I insisted. “When you consider —”
“Hold on.” Joe held up a hand in a staying gesture, a wry smile touching his lips. “First you’re going to go talk to those people and find out if you’re right for the job, and if the job’s right for you. For now, let’s get some sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” I grumbled, dropping to my back, huffing in frustration. “I couldn’t sleep last night, either.”
“I know,” he said. “I was with you.”
The light was extinguished, the room so dark that it was shadowless.
“Why didn’t this happen three years ago?” I asked aloud. “That was when I needed it. Why did it have to be now?”
“Because life has shitty timing. Hush.”
My nerves had knotted in agitation. “I refuse to believe you would dump me just because I didn’t happen to be conveniently located in Texas.”
“Avery, quit working yourself up.”
“Sorry.” I tried to relax and regulate my breathing. “Let me ask just one thing: Your family has a private plane, right?”
“A Gulfstream. For business.”
“Yes, but if you wanted to use it for personal reasons, would your brothers and sister object?”
“I would object. It’s five thousand bucks per flight hour.”
“Is it a light jet, or a midsize, or —”
“It’s a Gulfstream large-cabin super-midsize jet.”
“How long in advance do you have to call before they can have it ready?”
“For a trip like that, two or three hours.” The covers were drawn back from my legs.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t see him, could only feel him moving in the darkness.
“Since you’re so interested in my plane, I’m going to tell you all about it.”
“Joe —”
“Quiet.” The hem of my nightgown inched upward, and I felt a soft, hot kiss on the side of my kn
ee. “The Gulfstream has Internet, TV, a Global Satcom phone system, and the worst coffeemaker in existence.” A kiss descended to my other knee, followed by the long ticklish streak of his tongue trailing upward along my thigh. “The two upgraded Rolls-Royce engines,” he continued, “provide about fourteen thousand pounds of thrust each.” I drew in a sharp breath as I felt the slither of his tongue high on the inside of my leg.
His breath stirred private curls until each hair stood on end, individuate with sensation. “The plane takes about forty-four hundred gallons of fuel.”
A single, idle lick. I whimpered, all my focus zinging to that soft place. He nuzzled deeper into the tenderness.
“Fully fueled, it flies nonstop for forty-three hundred nautical miles.” His fingertips nudged me open while his lips descended, forming a hot, wet seal. I was dazed and silent, my hips catching a tight upward arch. Just as the pleasure approached an unimaginable spike, his mouth lifted.
“It’s been updated with thrust reversers that shorten the landing,” he murmured, “and an enhanced vision system with an infrared camera mounted on the front.” A long finger slid inside me. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
I shook my head, beyond speech. Although he couldn’t have seen the movement, he must have felt it, because I heard his quiet sound of amusement. “Avery, honey,” he whispered, “you’re gonna sleep so good tonight…”
I felt his mouth and tongue again as he worked me with delicately ruthless precision, and I was lost in a tumble of heat. Pleasure gathered, lifted, refracted. When it became too much to bear, I tried to twist away, but Joe wouldn’t let me, persisting until my groans had broken into long sighs.
After he was finished with me, I didn’t fall asleep so much as I fell unconscious. I slept so long and hard that I barely registered Joe kissing me good-bye the next morning. He leaned over the bed, showered and fully dressed, murmuring that he had to leave.
By the time I was fully awake, Joe was gone.
Two days later, I boarded a private Citation Ultra with Hollis Warner. A flight attendant served us Dr Pepper on ice while we waited for Bethany, who was running late. Fashionably dressed and heavily made up, Hollis relaxed in the cream leather seat next to mine. She explained that her husband, David, offered compensation plans to some of the top executives in his restaurant and casino businesses to have the jet for a specified number of personal-use hours, with the company picking up the tab. Hollis and her friends often used the Citation for shopping trips and vacations.
“I’m so glad we’re staying two nights instead of just one,” Hollis said. “I’m having dinner with some girlfriends tomorrow night. You’re welcome to join us, Avery.”
“Thank you so much, but I’m having dinner with friends I haven’t seen in much too long. And there’s a meeting I have to attend tomorrow afternoon.” I told her about the meeting with the producers of Rock the Wedding and being interviewed as a potential host of a spin-off. Hollis seemed delighted by the news and said that when I became a celebrity, she was going to take credit for helping to launch me. “After all, if I hadn’t picked you as Bethany’s wedding planner, you wouldn’t have gotten on that show.”
“I’ll tell everyone it was you,” I assured her, and we clinked glasses.
After taking a sip, Hollis tucked a lock of smooth blond hair behind her ear and asked in an offhand tone, “Are you still going out with Joe?”
“Yes.”
“What does he say about this opportunity?”
“Oh, he’s being very supportive. He’s happy for my sake.”
I knew without being told that should the television opportunity come through, Joe was determined not to influence my decision. He would not ask me to stay or give up anything. Most of all, he would make no promises. There were no guarantees about what our relationship might become or how long it would last. Whereas there would be guarantees, contractual ones, if I was hired by Trevor Stearns’s production company. Even in case of failure, I would have some incredible takeaways. Money, connections, a heavily bolstered résumé.
I was spared the necessity of replying when Bethany boarded the plane. She was dressed in a vibrant Tory Burch tunic and capris, her hair gilded with fresh highlights. “Hi, y’all!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Look at how pretty she is,” Hollis said with a mixture of pride and rue. “The prettiest girl in Texas, her daddy always says.” Hollis’s expression went blank as she saw another passenger board after Bethany. “I see you’ve brought Kolby.”
“You said I could bring a friend.”
“I sure did, sugar.” Hollis flipped open a magazine and began to page through it methodically, her mouth tight. It didn’t appear that Kolby, a muscular young man in his twenties, was the kind of friend Hollis had had in mind.
Bethany’s companion was dressed in board shorts, a Billabong button-down shirt, and a sports cap from which a shock of sun-bleached hair protruded in the back. He was tanned a deep shade of walnut, his eyes light blue, the teeth toilet-bowl white. From an objective viewpoint, he was handsome in the bland, deeply boring way that only someone with perfectly symmetrical features could be.
“Bethany, you look fabulous, as usual,” I said as she leaned down to hug me. “How are you feeling? Are you up to this flight?”
“I sure am!” she exclaimed. “Feeling awesome. My OB-GYN says I’m his star patient. The baby’s kicking hard now – sometimes you can see my stomach move.”
“Wonderful,” I said, smiling. “Was Ryan excited to feel the baby kicking?”
She made a face. “Ryan’s so serious about everything. I won’t let him come to my checkups, because he brings my mood down.”
Hollis spoke while continuing to leaf through the magazine. “Maybe you could work on getting him to smile more often, Bethany.”
The young woman laughed. “No, I’ll let him fiddle with his drawings and computer designs… I’ve got someone right here who knows how to have a good time.” She squeezed the man’s arm and smiled at me. “Avery, you don’t mind me bringing Kolby on our girls’ trip, do you? He won’t bother anyone.”
The man looked at her with a sly grin. “I’m gonna bother you plenty,” he said.
Erupting in a fit of giggles, Bethany dragged him to the bar, where they rummaged through canned beverages. Looking perturbed, the flight attendant tried to persuade them to have a seat and allow her to bring the drinks.
“Who is Kolby?” I dared to ask Hollis.
“No one,” she murmured. “A waterskiing instructor Bethany met last summer. They’re just friends.” She shrugged. “Bethany likes to keep fun people around her. As much as I adore Ryan, he can be a stick-in-the-mud.”
I let the comments pass, although I was tempted to point out that it wasn’t fair to judge Ryan for not being fun when he was preparing to marry a woman he didn’t love and be a father to a baby he didn’t want.
“Nothing needs to be mentioned about this,” Hollis said after a moment. “Particularly to Joe. He might say something to Ryan and stir up trouble for no reason.”
“Hollis, if there’s anyone in the world who wants this wedding to go off without a hitch even more than you do, it’s me. Trust me, I’m not going to say anything about Kolby to anyone. It’s not my place.”
Satisfied, Hollis shot me a glance of genuine warmth. “I’m glad we understand each other,” she said.
Another disconcerting moment occurred at the hotel reservations desk, where I was checking in. As the desk clerk ran my credit card and we waited for the charge to go through, I glanced at the other clerk at the desk, who had just checked Bethany and Kolby into a single room. I supposed some part of me had hoped that Bethany and Kolby really were just friends. They had behaved like teenagers during the flight from Houston, whispering and giggling, watching a movie together, but there had been nothing overtly sexual in their interactions.
This arrangement, however, left no room for doubt.
I dragged my g
aze back to the clerk in front of me. He returned my credit card and gave me a form to initial and sign. I had meant what I’d said to Hollis – I wasn’t going to mention anything about this to anyone. But it made me feel guilty and sordid to be part of this secret.
“See y’all later,” Bethany said. “Don’t expect Kolby and me for lunch – we’re ordering room service.”
“Let’s meet at the concierge desk in two hours,” I said. “The fitting appointment is at two o’clock.”
“Two o’clock,” Bethany repeated, walking to the bank of elevators with Kolby in tow. They paused to look at a display window filled with glittering jewelry.
