Thousand Yard Bride

by Nora Flite

  My stomach tensed and rumbled. “Sounds perfect to me!" The waiter jotted it all down, took our menus, and scampered off. Folding my hands, my ring caught the light and sparkled.

  Hunter chuckled, reaching out to brush my wrist and leave tingles where he went. "That really suits you."

  "Oh yeah?" I asked, smiling crookedly. "I look like a marriage kind of girl, huh?"

  I was playing around. Hunter fixed me with a look born from steel and honey as he whispered, "You look like my kind of girl."

  My heart ballooned upwards. It blocked my mouth, blinded me, but it didn't make me deaf enough to not hear the unmistakable, high-pitched squeal of Poppy Van Hausen’s voice. “Hunter! Is that you?”

  I turned around to confirm my worst nightmare. There she was in a formfitting black shift, her blindingly glossy hair and six-inch designer heels coming right at us like she was ready to pounce.

  I heard Hunter mutter, “Fuck” under his breath. “Poppy, what are you doing here?” he asked when she pulled up to our table.

  She didn't even look at me—her plastic grin was for Hunter only. “Oh, I’m just out shopping. Crazy running into you two lovebirds, though.”

  “Yeah,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Crazy.”

  Poppy had the audacity to pull a chair over from another table so she could sit down with us. “Just look how cute you two are. This must be every girl’s dream!" she chirped. "Being a nobody one day and dating Prince Charming the next. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers, the long, sparkling pink nails grinding together.

  "Did you call me a nobody?" I laughed in surprise.

  Poppy pursed her lips, watching me closely. “Well, you’re hardly . . .”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Well, not to be mean, but look at this café for example. You’d never get a table here without Hunter. It’s sweet.”

  The waiter set our appetizer on the table between us. I was wondering how much she'd like some hummus in her hair when Hunter said, “You need to leave. Now.”

  Poppy's eyes crinkled on the outer edges. Her voice went sharp and high—the photographer came close enough to record this whole ordeal, and Poppy clearly wanted to be the star of the show. “First you cheat on me, now you’re telling me what to do? Like you can control me? It didn't take you too long to get over me, did it?”

  “You made it really easy, Poppy,” Hunter said. My jaw dropped as my eyes darted back and forth between them. I could already see the headlines.

  “Did I,” Poppy said, turning the knife, “Or did she?” Poppy pointed her finger at me, holding it there with her face twisted up. I couldn’t believe it; she was actually posing for the photographer.

  I closed my mouth and shifted back into the shade under the umbrella, hoping I’d be nothing more than a shadow in the photo. Hunter must have realized what was going on, because he also closed his mouth and turned his back on the paparazzo.

  “You need to leave me and Jo alone now, Poppy," he whispered hotly. "You’re only making yourself look bad. Just go.”

  “I’d love to!” Poppy exclaimed, tossing her hair. Then, to add to the drama, she stood up and lifted her nose as high as it would go. “But to be honest, Hunty, I think there is more to little Jo here than meets the eye. She said you started dating a few months ago, the whole thing seems like a sham to me. Maybe something you’re doing, Hunter, to make yourself look better. She is a P.R. stooge, isn’t she?”

  Hunter slammed his palms onto the table, causing a water glass to jump off and shatter on the concrete. The other diners were beyond pretending not to watch; at this point they were openly staring. My cheeks burned with humiliation, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole so this debacle could be over with.

  He got up and stepped closer to Poppy, getting into her face, his voice dropping to a low and deadly level I’d never heard before. “You will not speak to my fiancée like that. Not now, not ever again. Go the fuck away you miserable, sad, lonely little harpy.”

  Poppy kept on smiling. I wondered if anything ever got under her skin. “Oh, Hunter, I don't think I’m going to be the miserable one at the end of the day. I don't think shotgun weddings have honeymoons. Good luck with your happy ending."

  Poppy turned away from the photographer as she started fake-crying. She stormed off, finally leaving Hunter and I in peace—relatively speaking.

  The photographers had now gathered into a small group and seemed to be comparing notes. I knew that each news site, blog, or magazine would have a slightly different take on this story.

  I started running them through my head, considering what each headline might look like: “Ex-Girlfriend Goes Psycho on Star Player and Bacon-Loving Lady,” “Poppy Van Hausen Van Hassles Daniels and New Love,” “Is Poppy Van Hausen Holding on to Daniels’ Secrets?”

  Then Hunter sat down, taking my hand. “Sorry about all of that."

  “No, it was fine,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

  The photographers were still hovering there watching us.

  “How about a picnic, Jo?” Hunter turned to the waiter. “Can we get this to go?"

  There was a park with a lake about a ten-minute walk away. We found a spot under a tree near the playground where a group of elementary school kids were tossing around a football. Hunter spread everything out on the grass, the picture so serene it was easy to forget that what had led up to this had been a horrendous experience.

  “Earlier," he said suddenly, "You asked why I'd wanted to meet up. Hold out your hand.”

  I had to put down my plastic forkful of cheesy bacon goodness in order to do so, but I obliged. He placed a plain white envelope in my palm. With a questioning look at him, I opened it to find an invitation to the Annual Players and Pros Gala.

  I looked to Hunter for clarification and he said, “It’s Victoria’s biggest event of the year. I was going to skip it, and I’m sure you have no desire to go, but I’m trying to mend things with my mom.”

  Understanding dawned on me. "Did you ask her why she didn't tell you about Benny?"

  His head moved side to side. "No. I don't need to. I'll mend things in my own way."

  Frowning, I fingered the invitation. I didn't want to be in the middle of this drama. I also loved the idea of Hunter getting closer with his mom. After talking to her alone, I had a better idea of what she'd gone through—how similar we were.

  I let the P.R. rep in me loose. “It’s the perfect opportunity for me to make up for the engagement party."

  "Are you sure you’re all right with this? I do feel bad forcing you to do the socialite thing.”

  “You’re going to be there, right?” I said with a flirty smile.

  “Naturally.”

  “Well, you jump, I jump, right?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did you just quote Titanic?”

  “Did you just know that I quoted Titanic?”

  “What can I say,” Hunter laughed. “You figured out my dark, secret love for Leonardo DiCaprio. I love that movie.”

  “It’s my favorite,” I admitted.

  He looked out at the kids playing football. I wanted to read his mind. What the hell was he thinking behind that lush hair and unblemished-dear-lord-tell-me-what-cleanser-you-use skin?

  I scanned the heavy, expensive invitation for more clues as to what fresh new horrors were in store for me. Then I saw it. “What does white tie mean?”

  “It means you get to see me in my tails,” Hunter said with a little eye roll.

  “People still wear tuxedos with tails?” I couldn’t help myself; I giggled. “I’m sorry, did I just get transported back to Victorian England or something?”

  Leaning on his elbow, he flashed a sharp smirk. Hunter watched me closely, studying me while not making a sound. I couldn't take it anymore, I reached out and poked him. "Hey!" he laughed.

  "Tell me what you're thinking," I demanded.

  "I'm thinking about how good you'll look in a ball gown."

  Lifti
ng my eyebrows high, I went to shove him—nothing violent, just out of shock. "Where the hell will I find a ball gown?" He caught my wrists, and instead of stopping me, he kept pulling until I toppled on top of him in the grass.

  My shadow coated his grinning face. Even like this, in the shade, his eyes were bright yellow flame. Rich, prehistoric colors. Holding me so I couldn't shift my weight off of him, Hunter made a low sighing noise. "I'll find you something."

  His hands swept down to my back, then my ass. I gasped, but focused on nailing my point home. "And where will I keep it? I don't have unlimited closet space."

  “You don’t have to keep it. My mom runs a charity where you can donate gowns, and then people who can’t afford a prom dress or wedding dress or whatever can get them for free.”

  I stopped wriggling in his grip. “That's really cool of your mom, really sweet.”

  "What's sweet is this ass of yours," he whispered, kneading me, grinding his hips. Bolts of hot ice went into my belly then down to my pussy, stunning me. “I want to take you right here, in the grass, and—" A small football landed on the remains of the cheese plate, sending everything flying.

  A kid no older than ten ran up and said, “Sorry, mister!”

  Hunter grinned. “No worries, man. Go long!” The kid beamed and then ran a few feet away. Hunter threw the ball, and when the kid caught it, we both clapped. “Nice catch!”

  The kid flashed a gap-toothed grin and ran back to his friends.

  “That was monstrously adorable,” I said. This was the first time I’d seen Hunter interacting with children. He seemed pretty comfortable with it. My mind wandered to a strange future that was slowly becoming solid, one in which we took care of a squishy little newborn baby.

  Was Hunter actually father material?

  He leaned in and kissed me on my cheek. “Guess we can't fuck with the kids running around, huh?” he asked.

  Pushing my lips together, I went white. "Hunter!" Just like that, he was back to being his over-sexed self. But as we sat there together, his hand on mine, I noticed he didn't once go back to trying to feel me up.

  He was too busy watching those kids play.

  15

  Jo

  I went home and threw my closet open. I decided to try on my old prom dress to see if it still fit, no point in wasting more time and money on a dress I was only going to wear once, after all.

  I had to squirm to get into it, and my pregnancy boobs were too big for my old strapless bra now, so I had to hope that the fabric would contain them. I had turned my Titanic DVD on as background noise while I got ready. It was on the dance scene where Leo and Kate twirl around in the lower decks of the ship when my doorbell rang.

  It was Aldous, the Daniels’ butler. He was holding a long garment bag. “Uh. Hi,” I said, completely caught off guard.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Cooke. I have a delivery for you. Might I hang it up?” I opened the door so Aldous could enter. He looked around and asked, “Where might your dressing area be?”

  “Um. I guess in the bedroom.”

  “I'll deposit this in there. That color is fetching on you, by the way.”

  I looked down at my old prom dress, which I couldn't even zip up the whole way, feeling self-conscious. “Thanks. The room is just through that hallway there,” I said, pointing. There was really only one way to my bedroom.

  I wasn't sure if I should tip him, and I didn't have any cash in my pockets, so when he came back towards me, I nervously handed him an orange from my fruit basket.

  “Thank you, Ms. Cooke. You are very kind.”

  More like ridiculous, I thought privately.

  He was halfway through the door when he turned around. “One more thing. I was told to tell you that ‘Ms. Winslet says to enjoy the evening.’” I didn't have time to respond or ask what he meant before Aldous was gone, presumably to flit around town delivering packages and accepting tips in the form of fruit.

  I ran to my bedroom and unzipped the garment bag. Inside was a black and white ball gown with a beaded black overlay, which would help hide my bump, layered over a voluminous white skirt.

  It had delicate long sleeves and a scooping neckline. I saw that there was a note pinned to the outside of the garment bag. I opened it to pull out a picture of Kate Winslet wearing the exact same gown. Then my phone rang.

  “Well, what do you think?” Hunter said before I could even say hello.

  “How did you—I don’t even know what to say. It’s gorgeous!”

  “It’s the dress Kate wore at last year’s Met Gala. I think it will look wonderful on you. It’ll be just like Titanic.”

  Snorting, I turned the photo around in wonder. “Except in Titanic, the guy was poor and the girl was the rich one.”

  Hunter laughed, rich and low and I wanted more of it. “So what? We can still dance like Jack and Rose.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And thank you. This is the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  “See you tonight.” The line cut off.

  Armed with a burst of new confidence, I struggled into the dress. I did two or five spins in the mirror, gawking at how great it looked. It was a shame I couldn't do much with my hair to match it; I settled for a quick bun with some loose pieces.

  Flapping my hands at my sides, I breathed deep, pushing my neckline to the limit. "This is it. Here we go."

  Hunter had sent a car for me. That was good, because in this floofy gown, I didn't think I could reach my own pedals.

  The event was being held at the Haven Oaks Country Club. The driver helped me out, and I entered the club with more strut in my step than usual. However, when I walked through the doors into the ballroom, I nearly fainted.

  I had never seen anything like it—outside of the movies. It seemed like every time I went to a Daniels' family soiree, I was exposed to some whole new level of opulence.

  In the ballroom, socialites and captains of industry were waltzing to the music of a fifteen-person orchestra. I made it a point to wave to a few of the reporters, figuring I should make the best of the situation.

  Through the ballroom, I could see the grand dining room. The tables were draped in shimmering cloth and covered in candles. Complicated flower arrangements were everywhere. Some were in vases that were taller than me.

  Then I noticed the ice sculptures. There were swans, roses, and even a butter sculpture that was a miniature version of the Haven Oaks Clubhouse. The details were there down to the topiary trees and Corinthian pillars.

  I felt like I was having an out of body experience. I hadn’t even made it halfway across the ballroom to greet Victoria and Hunter when my heart started pounding.

  The football player was wearing what he'd promised; a frost-white tuxedo that somehow did not look ridiculous on him. It brought out the gold in his irises, and when he smiled, I didn't know if his teeth were whiter or vice versa—both were glowing.

  I reached out for Hunter’s hand. He squeezed it and whispered in my ear, “You’re the most beautiful woman that has ever walked into this room. Just smile and enjoy that fact.”

  “You look stunning, dear,” Victoria said. I’d only accomplished my makeup with the assistance of a few helpful YouTube tutorials. I said a prayer to the internet. “That dress suits you wonderfully.”

  “Thank you. Speaking of that, Hunter told me about your dress donation charity. I think that’s so lovely, Victoria.”

  She smiled ear to ear like she hadn’t gotten a compliment like that in a very long time.

  I was actually feeling pretty good about the evening until Mr. Daniels interrupted the conversation and pulled Hunter away. At least I still had Victoria to talk to, but then Cerene summoned her from the bar.

  I was left alone in the middle of the ballroom, and suddenly I felt like I was alone on the moon. Then I saw Reese chatting up a hostess with a tray of champagne by the dessert table. I made my way to him, happy to have spotted an ally.

  “Hey, Reese,” I said. />
  “My word, Jo. You should always wear gowns instead of suits from now on!” Reese kissed me on the cheek. "Where is our dear friend Hunter?"

  Pointing out where he was standing by his father, I sighed. "He gets yanked away a lot."

  "Well, I wanted to tell you,” Reese began, “That ever since you two got engaged, Hunter has been a different man. I don't know what you did but he seems all grown up now.”

  Startled, I checked his face to make sure he was being serious. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I’m not saying he isn’t still going to act like a jackass sometimes, just that I don't have to worry about him anymore. Whatever you did, keep doing it.”

  I smiled sincerely at Reese. I wondered if he knew about the pregnancy, after all, he was Hunter's best friend. I was about to feel him out when Benny and Jam came over, clearly buzzed from too much time spent at the bar.

  Benny was in a worse way and I hoped that one of the other Kings would give him a glass of water, shot of espresso, or just a ride home.

  He flagged down another pretty waitress with four glasses of champagne left on her tray, handing one to me with a big grin. "Hey, Jo! Drink up!"

  I accepted the champagne and faked a sip. I saw Reese wink at me and nearly dropped the glass. He must know, that's got to be it.

  Reese and Jam excused themselves to go smoke a cigar on the terrace. Left alone with Benny, I squirmed as his eyes traveled down my body and back up, and he grinned at me as he stepped closer. I could smell the booze on his breath. He whispered in my ear, “Well, well. You clean up nice. Hunter always did have the best taste in women.”

  “You know what, I really need to visit the restroom. Catch up with you later.” Without waiting for a response I turned away from the dessert table toward the back exit of the ballroom. I quickened my pace to get away from him, but he followed right behind me.

  I was hoping to lose him in the crowd, and I had almost made it to the bathroom door when I felt a strong grip on the back of my arm. I turned around, furious, and opened my mouth to speak, but Benny beat me to it. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, Jo. I know it’s not all in my head. Why don't we lock the door? I won’t tell Hunter if you don't.” Then he brushed past me into the restroom and tried to pull me in.