Jude (Beautiful Mine #2)

by DeLuca, Gia

  Georgina smiled warmly. She truly liked Carys. “It’s the least I can do. You’re a breath of fresh air compared to some of the other girls I’ve seen Jax with. I couldn’t be happier with his decision to marry you. I’m glad to do whatever I can to help you two get your lives started.”

  My eyes watered. I could feel the love between them. Two near-strangers, bonded by their love of one man. Carys was lucky to have Georgina, and apparently, Georgina felt the same way.

  After brunch, we hurried outside, where a black limo was waiting to sweep us off to Monique Lhuillier. Georgina and Carys climbed in elegantly as I nearly tripped over the carpeted exit toward the circle drive and prayed that no one saw it.

  “You’ve been really quiet today,” Carys said to me in the car.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Lots on my mind.”

  “Life is way too short to overthink things,” Georgina piped in. “Whatever’s on your mind right now, let it go and have fun with us. That’s what life’s all about: living in the moment as much as possible.”

  Georgina’s radiant smile and warm energy told me she knew a thing or two about living in the moment. Everything about her was happy and positive.

  I wiped a tiny tear that formed in my eye, nodding appreciatively in her direction.

  “Is it Jude?” Carys asked point blank.

  “Carys!” I snapped at her, unable to fathom why she’d bring it up in front of Georgina. Jude and Jax had been friends for almost a decade. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s too bad things didn’t work out with you and Jude,” Georgina said. “He’s really a great young man. I’ve known him a very long time. He’s like a second son to me. He’s actually coming over for Christmas dinner, Evie. If you don’t have any plans, you should join us.”

  Christmas was in two days. I’d planned on calling my parents, ordering Chinese takeout, silencing my phone, and curling up with as many books and movies as I could possibly cram into one day.

  “That’s very kind of you,” I said. The mere possibility of seeing him with Sam again put me on the brink of a mini panic attack.

  “Oh! We’re here, girls!” Georgina swiftly switched gears as we pulled up to the most beautiful boutique front I’d ever seen.

  The driver opened the door and we filed out one by one, making our way inside the store.

  A petite saleswoman with strawberry blonde hair greeted us with a professional smile. “You must be the Meredith party. We’re all ready for you, if you want to head back here.”

  We followed her to a private fitting room in the back, where we were immediately gifted flutes of champagne and a tray of fresh, white-chocolate dipped strawberries.

  “So, which one of you is the lucky lady?” she asked, scanning our faces.

  Carys raised her hand, and her diamond shimmered under the soft light above. “That’d be me.”

  The saleswoman asked her size and her favorite style, then walked off to pull gowns.

  “The girls should be here any minute,” Georgina said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited them. They really wanted to be a part of this.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Carys insisted before turning to me. “Jax’s sisters are coming. They’re the sweetest little things. You’ll love them!”

  The saleswoman pushed a huge rack of gowns into the room and began holding them up one at a time. Georgina stayed mum the entire time as Carys vetoed and green lighted various options until she narrowed it down to five.

  “I’ll be back,” she said as she danced off to the fitting room.

  Two girls, probably high school-aged, suddenly appeared in the doorway. Both were leggy, and one was the spitting image of Georgina, minus thirty years. The other sister had the same sandy blonde hair as Jax. Both were complete knockouts.

  “Girls!” Georgina said as she stood up and greeted each of them with a kiss-kiss. “Meet Carys’ maid of honor, Evie.”

  “Hi.” I waved from my seat, unsure if I should get up and greet them with the same cheek kisses their mother seemed to dole out to everyone, or if I should just be me. I settled on the latter.

  “Evie, this is Zadie,” Georgina said, pointing toward her mini-me. “And my little ray of sunshine over there is Miss Zara.”

  Quiet and well-mannered, the girls took a seat on the settee next to one another. They didn’t’ seem like typical high schoolers. They weren’t glued to their smart phones. They didn’t seem inconvenienced at having to be there. They were sweet and present, just like their mother.

  “Well, what do you think?” A vision of cream silk-chiffon and antique lace graced our presence as Carys climbed up onto an elevated stand. Her attendant swept the bottom of her gown all around her, fluffing as she went.

  “I like it,” Zadie said with a kind smile.

  “I think you need something more fitted,” Zara opined. “No poufy skirt.”

  Georgina just smiled. “You look radiant.”

  “Evie?” Carys turned to me, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”

  Surrounded by people like the Meredith women only reminded me that I wasn’t accustomed to this kind of lifestyle. I wasn’t used to fancy clothes or stores that had fittings by appointment only. I felt out of place in my jeans and blouse, and I was pretty sure the leather bag resting by Zadie’s feet cost more than I paid in rent on my apartment. I may have been a millionaire on paper, but a millionaire in spirit, I was not.

  “I think you look great,” I said. She did. The girl could wear a paper bag and still look stunning. My sense of style didn’t usually range beyond Gap or Ann Taylor Loft. When I shopped, I let the store-dressed mannequins tell me what clothes went together and called it good. Most of the time, I lived in yoga pants and sweats.

  The attendant helped Carys get turned around and escorted her back behind the fitting curtain for Round Two.

  I sat in awkward silence with the Meredith women. Each minute that passed reminded me of how out of place I was in their world. They were all so prim and proper, stylish and well-coiffed. And I was so… Midwestern. I made myself snap out of the constant comparisons the moment Carys emerged from the fitting curtain in a tight, satin, mermaid-style gown with a crystal encrusted sash. Carys was the definition of Old Hollywood from head to toe.

  “Thoughts?” Carys beamed from ear to ear, indicating she loved this one.

  Georgina’s eyes lit up. “Glam. I love it.”

  The girls both sat up and leaned forward, more engaged than ever before.

  “This one’s my favorite of the two,” Zadie offered right away.

  “I like this one better, too,” Zara echoed. She seemed to be the more reserved one of the pair.

  “This is the one,” Carys said excitedly.

  “Don’t forget, sweetie,” Georgina said, “you’ll need a dress for the reception, too. You’ll want a more comfortable dress to dance around and mingle in.”

  Carys grinned and nodded before turning around and sweeping her way back behind the curtain.

  The attendant took her measurements as Georgina left to pay the deposit on the gown. While I waited, I glanced at a price tag hanging on a ready-to-wear gown in the showroom and about fainted when five figures stared back at me. I shuddered to think of how much Georgina was paying for Carys’ dress, but I tried not to worry about it. It was none of my business.

  “We ready?” Carys said once she emerged in the clothes she had on that morning.

  Georgina said goodbye to her lovely daughters and they walked outside, Zadie and Zara speeding off in a white Mercedes convertible as we climbed into the limo.

  “Now that your dress is picked out, we can design the ceremony around it,” Georgina said. “You’ll probably want your reception dress to flatter your ceremony dress, though it’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t mesh perfectly. I’m not worried.”

  “Thank you so much, Georgina,” Carys said, her eyes watering. “For everything.”

  Georgina smiled and mouthed, “You’re welcome.�
� Her eyes crinkled up a tiny bit at the corners, but there wasn’t a single wrinkle around her mouth or forehead. She was as youthful of a middle-aged mother as they came.

  The limo took them back to the Beverly Wilshire, where we parted ways with the fabulous and elegant Georgina Meredith and headed back to my place. I was almost sad to end our day with Georgina. Something about her brought out a tiny spark in me, making me feel alive. Her magnetism and enthusiasm for life were infectious, and she was almost like a character from a movie scene who stepped off the screen and came to life. That, or a really glamorous fairy godmother.

  “Isn’t Georgina great?” Carys asked once we were in her car.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing. You’re very lucky.”

  “I just think about how this all came to be sometimes, you know? Like, if you never married Julian, you’d have never met Jude, and I’d have never met Jax,” she mused. “I feel like it’s a fluke, and I don’t deserve it. I just got lucky.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Just be grateful. That’s all you have to be.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m more than grateful,” Carys said, pulling into traffic. “I thank God fifty times a day for this life. I feel like if I don’t thank Him enough, He’ll smite me and take it all away.”

  “You really don’t think you deserve this?” I turned to her. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying Jax, and this is your way of distracting yourself?”

  Carys was radio silent.

  “Carys,” I said. “You are, aren’t you?”

  She sighed. “Jax is amazing to me, but I’ve never pictured myself as the marrying kind. You know that.”

  “Just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean yours is doomed, too,” I reminded her. The memory of a twelve-year-old Carys bawling her eyes out on her front porch after her parents announced their divorce was burned into my mind forever. I’d always wondered if that’s why Carys was so free-spirited and non-committal.

  “I said ‘yes,’ ” Carys said. “I gave him my word. I can’t let him down. I can’t let Georgina down.”

  “Please tell me you’re not marrying him because you don’t want to let other people down,” I scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I know you’re smarter than that.”

  Carys concentrated on the road ahead of her, saying nothing.

  “Whatever you decide,” I added, “you know I’ll support you either way.”

  “I’m going to marry him,” Carys declared. “It feels like the right thing to do. All of this happened for a reason, right? I can’t squander away this beautiful life I’ve been given. And I love him.”

  Ten minutes later, we’d arrived at my apartment—our old apartment.

  “You should come to the Meredith’s for Christmas dinner,” Carys said. “I’d love if you would. His whole family’s going to be there, and I’m not going to know hardly anyone.”

  She turned to me, her big, blue eyes quietly pleading. She never asked much from me, and I knew I owed her at least this much.

  I opened my mouth to speak, racking my brain for the perfect excuse, but nothing came.

  “It’s Jude, isn’t it?” she said. “You don’t want to run into him.”

  I gripped the cool chrome of the door handle as my eyes fixed themselves on the dash.

  “You just going to avoid him forever?” Carys asked, rolling her eyes.

  “No,” I said, though I wondered if I could.

  “You’re going to be seeing him a lot these next few months,” she said. “Georgina’s throwing all kinds of engagement parties and showers, and there’ll be rehearsal dinners, and all of that. But you can’t hide from Jude forever.”

  “I know that.”

  “Please come with me, Evie,” she begged. “I need you there. Go for me.”

  JUDE

  I gripped the sleeves of my sweater and pulled them down past my wrists. The Merediths were good people, but sitting at their annual Christmas dinner didn’t warrant the casual look I usually went for. With a red cashmere sweater and my hair parted on the side and slicked over with brill cream, Caroline would’ve been proud. I looked like I’d stepped out of a damn Lands End catalog.

  “Jude!” Georgina floated over to me on a breeze, wrapping me in a motherly embrace. She’d been more of a mother to me in the last eight years than Caroline was my whole life. I’d have done anything for her, which was the only reason I came to her little Christmas dinner each year. I’d have much rather stayed at home, eating Chinese takeout and watching all of the Godfather movies in succession. “So glad you could make it!”

  “Hi, Jude,” Zadie and Zara said practically in unison as they sat across the table and batted their lashes my way. They’d been crushing on me since they were just a couple of kids and Jax brought me home from school with him one spring break. I’d watched them grow up, and they were the little sisters I’d never had. They made no bones about how hard they crushed on me, though I thought they were more interested in making me uncomfortable and watching me squirm.

  “Girls,” I said, offering a benign nod. They’d blossomed into beautiful young women over the years, and I’d break any man’s arm who ever laid a finger on either one of them.

  “You came!” Carys said, sweeping up from behind me.

  “I come every year,” I replied.

  “It’s just nice seeing a familiar face,” she said, her eyes timidly dancing around the packed room. To her, they were all strangers. To me, they were Jax’s uncle Vance and his aunt Gladys, his chatty cousin Mia and her son T.J., his adorably grouchy grandma Edith on his father’s side and his mother’s best friend from college, who almost always wound up hitting on me by the end of the night. I saw them every year; they were my surrogate family.

  I scanned the room for the millionth time since I’d arrived. Every time the doorbell chimed, my breath suspended. And every time someone walked in the room that wasn’t Evie, I downed a mouthful of Georgina’s famous spiked Christmas punch.

  “I figured you’d invited Evie,” I said to Carys, eyes still scanning.

  “Tried,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “She wouldn’t come.”

  Stubborn as a mule.

  Carys rubbed my back sympathetically before taking the seat next to me. “Where’s Sam?”

  I sat up straight, staring at the bottom of my empty punch cup. “Don’t fucking know, don’t fucking care.”

  Carys studied my face as she narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What’s up, buddy?” Jax said, pressing his hands into my shoulders and shaking me a bit. He, too, had been liberally ingesting the Christmas punch. “Thanks for coming, man.”

  Carys stared up at him, batting her blue eyes and smiling as if Jax were the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen. A girl in love. Evie had looked at me that way, once.

  Jax grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into a standing position, steering her close to his side. “Gotta steal my fiancée for a minute. Still haven’t introduced her to everyone.”

  I checked my watch, leaned back in my chair, and gave up my hopeless search. It was going to be a long night, and Evie wasn’t coming.

  EVIE

  Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas floated softly from the speakers of my T.V. as I lay in bed, half asleep. I’d managed to spend my first Christmas alone—a milestone, I’d assured myself, that all young adults experienced at some point or another.

  I’d Skyped with my sister earlier, and I’d called my parents. I’d wolfed down a greasy carton of chicken lo mein takeout and polished off half a bottle of merlot.

  “Goodnight, Judy,” I said, as Judy Garland’s lilting voice sang me to sleep. My drooping eyelids lasted all of two minutes before I was down for the count.

  I slept hard. No tossing or turning, no waking up a million times. I slept so hard, in fact, that I almost didn’t wake up when I heard someone fidgeting with the apartment door handle down the
hall.

  Still half asleep and groggy, I took my time climbing from my warm, soft bed and trekking down the hall. I flipped on the kitchen light by the entry and watched as my door handle jiggled. Hushed voices on the other side made my heart jump into my throat, but I couldn’t make out any words.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Carys? Jax?”

  Maybe they’d gotten locked out of their new place. Maybe they were coming to drop off Christmas presents at three in the morning.

  Think, Evie!

  My mind wasn’t functioning fast enough, and I needed to act quickly.

  “Hello!” I shouted, hoping to scare them away as I ran for my cell phone. “I’m going to call the police!”

  I could practically hear them laughing on the other side. My words meant business, but they came out laced with fear. I scanned my tiny apartment, desperately trying to figure out the best place to hide.

  I ran to the kitchen, yanking my phone from the charger and dialing 9-1-1. I ran to the door, pressing my ear against it and listening for their voices.

  Nothing.

  I stood on my toes and peeked out the peephole, something I should’ve done from the start.

  Again, nothing.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the female operator asked. Her voice was calm and her words were slow and drawn out, much to my dismay.

  “Um, yes,” I said, attempting to catch my breath. “Someone just tried to break into my apartment. It was a couple men, I think.”

  “Okay, ma’am, what’s the address?” she asked, again much too slowly.

  “Oh,” I said, my brain still not functioning. My address was lost to me. I couldn’t recall it to save my life. The last three months I hadn’t needed an address, and for twenty-some years before, my parents’ house in Halverford was all I needed to memorize. I ran to the kitchen, grabbing a piece of mail from the counter and read off the address to her, feeling like a complete idiot.

  “We’ll send someone out as soon as we can,” she said. “You stay calm, okay? Keep your phone by you.”

  “Do you know how long it’ll be?”