Bryan smiles like a kid in a toy store. “I haven’t used this design in an event yet, but I’ve been dying to. I did it at my studio one day, and it’s breathtaking. I’ve been waiting for the perfect event to try it, and since your reception under the stars was stolen from you, this is my way of giving it back.”
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “Aww, Bryan! That’s so sweet.”
Shelly looks at her watch. “We’d better move along to vendors.”
Bryan nods, then glances at his notes. “Every vendor we use will be local and famous in their own right. Businesses that will generate their own hype simply by affiliation. We’re thinking Stuart Brioza, the James Beard award winner, to cater. We’ll serve all classic San Francisco fare: crab Louis, cioppino, Boudin sourdough.”
I clear my throat. “Does it matter that Chase breaks out in hives if he eats too much shellfish and I won’t eat it?”
Shelly smiles. “Nope. No one actually eats at their own wedding.” She looks at Bryan. “Go on.”
“San Francisco Chamber Orchestra for part of the reception, then we’re thinking we could get Train to play a set or two. We wanted a popular San Francisco band, and they fit the bill perfectly.”
Train? I like them, but they’re no Jack Johnson. Somehow I think my guitar-strumming beach bum from Hawaii won’t fit the new theme.
“All of the flowers are from the flower market,” he continues. “With all the buzz about the market being at risk of closing, the three hundred thousand you’re about to drop there will definitely get attention. We’re already talking to several major vineyards about getting a private reserve label specifically for your wedding. Buena Vista in Sonoma is the oldest in California, and they seem to be in the lead at the moment, but Krug in Napa is also in the running. They’ve offered a private tasting, and their tasting room is spectacular. The pictures would be amazing.”
Bryan looks at his list. “What else can I tell you? For guests coming in a few days early, we’ll have a private tour of Alcatraz and private vineyard tours. Golf at Olympic. Hotel blocks will be at the Fairmount. Rehearsal dinner will be in the old Federal Reserve building. Dim sum in Chinatown the day of the wedding.”
“And,” Shelly interjects, “we’ll be sure guests are posting online with the #ChariannaForever hashtag. By the end of the weekend, you will be San Francisco.”
“You guys were going to do that flag football thing at the last place? I’m going to see if we can get some time at Levi,” Scott adds. “You won’t be able to do the all-day tournament thing you had planned, it’ll have to just be one game, but imagine the press. The two of you going at it in a head-to-head match! That’s gold right there.”
“Swag bags will be filled with products people associate with San Francisco. We’re giving everyone a Levi’s denim jacket. I have a pal at the Gap who can make a special edition Tee just for the wedding. Ghirardelli will put together a package of their finest chocolate. Yosh, the famous scent designer, will create a special fragrance just for your wedding, and everyone will get a bottle. Some sort of Williams-Sonoma something or other.” Shelly taps her pen on her lips. “Something from Apple—I’m waiting to see the price. I think we can get iPads for iPad mini prices.”
“Agraia has already signed on to be the official soap of the wedding.”
“We need an official soap?” I scoffed. “What? Will we be bathing during the wedding too? I know the city is known for its bath houses, but I think we’re getting a little carried away.”
“There will be no bathing!” Bryan looks horrified by the idea. “The soap will be in the welcome packs in the hotels and in the lavatories at all of the venues. Your initials will be monogramed into each bar.”
“And Brennan jerseys for everyone!” Scott adds.
I look over the list of potential swag items. “So the wedding is really a giant ad from the San Fran tourism board and Chamber of Commerce?”
Scott snatches the last few pieces of sushi. “Exactly. You put their product in your swag bag, and they consider buying a luxury box.”
It’s hard for me to watch him say that with a straight face. Is this really happening? I understand it from a business perspective. The concept makes sense, but… this is my wedding!
“Are the Niners going to pick up the cost for any of this?” I ask. “Since it seems the whole purpose is to boost ticket sales, I’m thinking they can contribute to the bill.”
“Yeah, it’s called a record-breaking contract,” Scott chides as he tries to pick up a piece of mentaiko with his chopsticks; he pinches it too hard and the roe spills out of the seaweed wrap. “What’s dropping a couple of mil on a wedding when it means a hundred and fifty over the next seven years?”
“I don’t even care about the money anymore,” Chase says, finally contributing something to the conversation. “If we go this route, it won’t be because of the contract. What do you think, Blondie?” I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off. “I really love this plan. We’re both from here. This city is a part of who we are. We’ve decided we want to stay here, raise our family here. I think this fits us perfectly. When can we make this happen?”
“May twentieth,” Bryan says.
“That’s perfect.” He grabs my hand. “What do you say? Want to get married?”
I haven’t heard this kind of joy in his voice in so long. With his broad smile, his eyes sparkle as he looks at me with excitement.
“This is really what you want?” I ask.
“Don’t you? I mean, did you see the star thing? It’s incredible!”
This whole plan makes me uneasy. We’ve spent months trying to get out of the press, and now we’re thrusting ourselves back into it? But if this is really what he wants… he did concede about Vespers. Maybe I need to be the flexible one this time. “All right. Let’s do it.”
He leans forward and kisses me. “It’s going to be perfect. I know Vespers seemed like a great place, but this feels right.”
“Of course it will be perfect. It’s us.”
*****
“I don’t know about this plan.” I nibble my lip as I bounce Calder on my knee. “It’s the polar opposite of everything we said we wanted.” After leaving the meeting, I texted Charlie to meet me at Daddy’s house. I need a second opinion.
Charlie looks over Bryan’s plan. “This is like something out of a Hollywood set. Like, do people in real life actually have weddings like this? Did you see that on the wall o’ flowers, he’s going to do the city skyline in…” She squints at the paper. “Some flower I’ve never heard of and definitely can’t pronounce. It’ll still be white on white, but according to the pic, it’ll still stand out. You’re getting way more than just flower arrangements. This is art.”
“Yeah, it’s amazing,” I say, deadpan. The wonder of it all wore off quickly. “Would you have guessed this is something Chase would want? I kept waiting for him to snub it, but he just got more excited with every detail. Right down to the official Chase and Ari toilet paper.”
Her eyes bulge. “What? You guys are getting your own toilet paper?” She flips through the pages looking for that detail.
“You’re as bad as your brother. I’m being facetious. But that’s how thoroughly Bryan has this thing planned.”
“Damn, that would be so cool.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.” It must be me. Everyone else seems to think this is the wedding of a lifetime.
“You really don’t like this idea, do you?”
Calder grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks. I try to pry it out of his little fingers. “I must just be in a funk today. I’ll warm up to the idea.”
She sets down the papers, then grabs a toy from the diaper bag and gives it to Calder, hopefully so he’ll stop trying to rip my hair out at the roots. “Is this what I saw for you guys? Honestly, yeah. It’s filled with all the frills and embellishments to make it a fairy-tale wedding. It’s what someone would expect of someone
of your status. If you and Chase had gotten engaged after my wedding as he planned, this is the wedding you would have planned. Older, wiser, more learned you? Not so much. But this wedding isn’t that crazy. Crazy would be getting Beyonce and Jay-Z to sing Crazy In Love. You’re no where near that insanity, so you’re cool.”
I shudder thinking about how much a private Jay-Z concert would run. “I guess I see what you’re saying. But to expand on your hypothetical, Chase would have gone for this kind of wedding back then because I would have pushed for it. Could you ever see him pushing something like this?” I can’t help but think back to Jenna’s “wedding” and how un-Chase the whole thing felt. I look at these plans and think the exact same thing.
Calder throws the rattle he was holding. Charlie picks it up, wipes it on her shirt, then hands it back to him. “We’ve talked about this before. Chase has always been the golden boy. And for the last few months, he’s been hated by people who used to love him. He’s been living in exile, and that’s a cold, lonely place. He’s like a flower wilting in the shadows. I think this wedding and all the attention and fanfare it’s going to bring will help bring back the sunshine. He’d vehemently deny this if you ever said anything, but he thrives on attention and being fawned over. He needs this. He needs to show the city he still loves them, and he needs them to show him they still love him back.”
I gasp as everything suddenly makes sense. Calder takes the opportunity to jam his fist in my mouth. Laughing, I pull his hand away, then look at Charlie. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“I know this wedding has all sorts of elements you’re not crazy about, but so does every wedding. Here’s something no one tells you before you start planning your wedding—your wedding isn’t actually about you. It’s about your parents, his parents, grandparents. Everyone has to make compromises to keep everyone happy. One of my good friends married a chick from India, and he rode into the ceremony on an elephant. And he’s an animal rights lobbyist working on legislation to ban the use of elephants for entertainment. But it made his mother-in-law happy, so he did it. I didn’t choose half the stuff at my wedding—that was all Spencer’s parents.”
“So why did you agree?”
“Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You won’t remember what you served or what kind of flowers were in your centerpieces. All you’ll remember is the high you’ll feel from getting married. The only thing that comes close to it is when I found out I was pregnant.”
“Not when Calder was born?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but that hurt like a son of a bitch, so it’s a little different. A million things will go wrong with the wedding. The caterer will run out of something. You’ll have warring cousins sitting at the same table. Your maid of honor will be stuck in Paris.”
I point at her. “Hey, the French Open is the same weekend every year. You chose to plan your wedding at the same time as one of the majors. That’s on you, not me.”
“My point is, none of that matters in the long run. Who’s there, or the venue, or the band—it all blurs into the background. The way you feel as you walk down the aisle, the butterflies in your stomach when you say your vows—that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”
“So you think I should just go with it?”
She rolls her eyes. “You make it sound as though I’m telling you to amputate your leg! Have the beautiful, over-the-top dream wedding. Try to suffer through it.”
“Okay, okay. Message received. I’ll stop whining and embrace it.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chase
The motherfucking phone. I swear to God, I’m going to cancel both our cell plans.
“We need a publicist who sleeps,” I mumble when the phone rings at four in the morning.
“At least she waited until four this time,” Ari murmurs as she rolls over.
“Are we going to answer or let it go to voicemail?”
Pushing the covers back, she sits up. “She wouldn’t call unless there was a story she wants to get ahead of. I’ll get it. You need sleep more than I do right now.” She kisses my cheek. “Try to go back to sleep.”
Ari grabs the phone, then pads out of the room. Heisman jumps off the bed and follows her out. I try to fall back asleep, but I can’t. I’m exhausted, my body screaming for sleep, but stupid shit keeps floating in my mind.
Did we take the trash out at my house the last time we were there? Man, that will smell if we didn’t.
When was the last time the gutters were cleaned?
Does my truck need an oil change every five thousand miles, or is it seventy-five hundred? I can’t remember how it is on these new trucks. I can’t ask Ari because she’ll scream at me for not knowing.
It really sucks when your girl knows more about cars than you do. It’s emasculating. How the hell did she learn so much about cars anyway? Why did Aiden teach her and not me?
Maybe I should start chopping wood. JJ Watt does it. Great exercise. Who gives a fuck if you know about oil changes if you can chop wood? Nothing says testosterone like a man with an axe.
Maybe we should get a cabin. I could chop wood all the time.
My mind keeps going until Ari pads back into the room a while later. My eyes are closed and I pretend to sleep as she slips back into bed. Her breathing is uneven, and she keeps shifting as though she’s unable to get comfortable. Looks as if neither of us can sleep.
“What did Shelly want?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Skip Davies is still carrying on,” she replies. “He’s pushing out a story today with ‘proof’ that I’m really the mastermind behind Ninergate.”
“Man, he just won’t quit, will he?”
“Nope. That man hates me. We’ve had maybe three conversations in my entire life, but he loathes me.”
“What’s his proof?”
“Brock,” she says with a laugh. “He’s just going to make a bigger ass out of himself. Skip’s posting it on his blog because his paper won’t publish it.”
“He’s going to get himself fired,” I reply.
She sighs. “Yeah, I know. As much as I loathe his lack of journalistic integrity, I hate to see anyone get fired at the holidays.”
Holidays? Oh shit. “Christmas is Friday, isn’t it?”
She fluffs her pillow, then lies back down. “Yup.”
I roll over to look at her. “I feel bad. We never even talked about it. We haven’t made plans for after the game.”
She pulls the covers up around her. “You shouldn’t. Until the truth came out, we really didn’t have anything to talk about. If we were even seen buying a Christmas tree, the press would have gone crazy and people would have begrudged us having a little holiday cheer. All we could do was lay low, so it was easier not to think about it.”
“It sounds so depressing when you put it that way.”
She snickers. “Hence why it was easier not to think about it.”
I thread my fingers through hers. “Well, now we can think about it. I’ve got four days during the bye week. My game’s on the 27th, we can fly out early on the 28th. We could go to Hawaii again. The Bahamas? Someplace else? Any idea what my parents and Charlie are doing? I’m surprised they haven’t talked to us about it yet. Charlie usually likes to have everything nailed down before Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t think they wanted to bring it up. We really didn’t need any more salt in our wounds.”
That sounds like my family. I can picture Charlie and Mom obsessing over whether or not they should say something. Pop and Spencer playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to broach the subject with us. After all the hand wringing, they decide it’s best to do nothing at all and see how it all plays out.
“Do you want to plan something with them or just us?” I ask. “If you want to go just us, I’m sure everyone would understand. We’ve earned it.”
“I think they’d be crushed if we didn’t do something all together. Plus, it’s traditi
on. It’ll actually feel really good to have a little normalcy for a change.”
I bring her hand to my lips. “Yeah, it will. So… where you do want to go?”
“Anywhere hot where I can sleep on the beach all day.”
My eyes go wide with disbelief. “You? Sleep on the beach? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually sleep on the beach. You can’t sit still that long.”
“I know. Hard to believe, but it’s true. I must be getting old, because that’s all I want to do. I’ve been so run-down lately. I really need a few days to catch up on sleep.”
“Stop.” I kiss her shoulder. “You’re not getting old. If you’re getting old, then that means I’m getting old, and I am not old.”
She giggles. “Says the guy who has trouble walking up the stairs by the end of the day.”
“That’s football, not age.”
“At least you have a good excuse. What’s mine?”
I cock my head and drop the playful tone. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”
She sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. I think it’s just everything catching up with me. The weather hasn’t helped. Between all the rain and the shortened days, I feel as though I haven’t gotten any sunshine in weeks. I’m seriously lacking in vitamin D.” She grimaces and lets out a little groan. “And I’ve completely overbooked myself this week.”
I snicker. “That sounds like you.”
She nibbles her lip. “I think I was trying to keep myself busy. With the wedding and everything else at a standstill, I was feeling a little cagey, so I started planning. I think I went overboard.”
Overboard for most people means they might be a little overbooked. Overboard for Ari usually means she’s taken on the work of six people. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I try to make eye contact, but she avoids my gaze. She’s hyperfocused on picking at her chipped nail polish.
“When Tate was arrested, I started talking to Jeb about what we could do for Tate’s son—well, all his kids really. Then one thing led to another, and I’m going to be running nonstop from today until the twenty-sixth. Oh, that reminds me—a rental car is going to be delivered this morning. I’ll be gone, but you should still be here. Will you sign for it?”
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 27
