A June Bride

by Marybeth Whalen

  Meredith, oblivious, said, “I’m going to go tell Andy!”

  “Yay!” Wynne mustered as Meredith speed-walked over to poor Andy, who was unsuspecting in more ways than one. Oh well, he’d get over it. It seemed they all had things to get over.

  Wynne stepped out onto the screened-in porch of her room at the Sunset Inn, a lovely place where they were all staying. Producers, crew, and “cast,” for lack of a better word, had filled the inn. Her family and friends had rented rooms at nearby condos and a resort on the mainland. Picky and her family had rented a gorgeous home on the ocean for the whole week. Somehow Meredith had scrambled around and found somewhere to stay at the last minute. Wynne was silently grateful it wasn’t in the inn where she was staying. She hadn’t anticipated Meredith actually tagging along at the wedding and, she hated to admit, her new friend was starting to be a little too much. She knew that Meredith’s popularity was sagging and couldn’t help but suspect that her sudden, intense interest in Wynne and the wedding was an attempt to reclaim the camera’s attention.

  She took a seat on the porch swing and kicked her feet to set it in motion. She felt guilty for judging poor Meredith that way. The woman clearly had an empty life and was trying to fill it with fame. And yet, she could never get her to talk about what was really going on in her life. It seemed that the only thing that made Meredith truly happy was the fame she’d found on Marathon Mom, and yet Marathon Mom was behind her. She thought about the many times she’d seen Meredith drink too much, that empty house where she’d dropped her off. Funny how her initial impression of her had been so different. On TV she had seemed so together, so fulfilled.

  And now she was excited about getting back on TV again. But what could she really gain from hanging around her wedding and toasting their marriage in front of the cameras? It didn’t make sense. Wynne put her feet down and stopped the swing. But it wasn’t the only thing around her that didn’t make sense. She thought about their meeting with the pastor, the one she’d finally secured in the nick of time. She and Andy had met with him just before leaving Charlotte to drive to Sunset Beach. In that moment, looking out across the water as she sat alone, she found herself thinking through what had happened and what it meant.

  Pastor Stanton had talked to them about marriage, about commitment and family, and sharing a life with someone else, and all that came with it. Did they understand the seriousness of what they were about to do? Had they talked through all the things they needed to address? She had her moment to finally address the faith issue. She’d turned to Andy, looked back at the pastor as he nodded his encouragement.

  “Andy, you know my faith is very important to me and I . . .” She searched for the right words. “I just wondered if you, um, feel the same way? I mean, when we’re married will you go to church and raise our kids in church?”

  Andy had faltered. It hadn’t been long—a fraction of a second—but in that moment she’d seen his hesitation. He had recovered nicely, said all the right things after that. He just wanted what she wanted. He would be committed to her faith. But he’d called it that: her faith. Not his.

  She thought back to the one time faith had come up on the show. They’d filmed an episode at her church and each guy had talked about his faith—or lack of—on their “date” to a church service. The episode had been a very good way to weed out the guys who were wrong for her. But it had also been a whirlwind of quick conversations and—always—the cameras and lights and people hovering around. She’d loved what Andy said about his family’s religious traditions and church attendance and had believed he counted himself when he talked about his family. And yet, that assumption might’ve been totally wrong on her part. She thought of all her mom’s warnings, how she just didn’t know Andy well enough. This kind of thing, she suspected, was exactly what her mom had meant.

  She’d looked back at Pastor Stanton, seen the concern on his face. He, too, had recovered nicely, giving her a smile as he said, “Well, I’m glad you two were able to talk about that issue. I know it was weighing on Wynne’s mind and I think you’ve started a nice dialogue.”

  Sitting on the porch, she wondered what the pastor had really been thinking at that moment. She’d heard that the show was giving him a nice donation for the church’s building campaign in exchange for his participation in the ceremony and any interviews. She hated to think that would motivate him to go along with all of this even if he thought they were making a mistake by getting married. And yet, he’d kept quiet at the moment he could’ve said something. But what would he have said? And how would she have reacted?

  She took a deep breath. Maybe she was the one making a big deal out of it. Maybe he’d seen other couples begin just this same way—and it had turned out fine. She smiled and shook her head. Picky had warned her that true reality—not the TV show version—would catch up with her sooner or later and she shouldn’t second-guess herself when it did. She was bound to have concerns as the moment to say “I do” approached. Plenty of brides got nervous about getting married without their wedding being on national television to a man they’d known less than a year.

  She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her hands around her feet as the swing moved in the breeze, trying to decide if, even in the heat of a June afternoon, her feet felt cold.

  Picky called right in the middle of a meeting with the wedding planner . . . and Meredith. Meredith had found some lovely anchor earrings for the bridesmaids, and the wedding planner had suggested she find a quote about friends being anchors that she could read to them before handing out the gifts. It would be great on film, everyone agreed—so emotional. Meredith had gotten teary-eyed just talking about it, and Wynne couldn’t help but wonder just whose wedding this was. Meredith came on like a hurricane. There was no stopping her. She knew Picky had seen the publicity the producers had leaked, little insider glimpses of Meredith right in the middle of things that piqued the public’s attention. What was the winner of Marathon Mom doing helping The Rejection Connection bride? People wanted to know.

  Picky probably most of all. After the meeting she retrieved her phone from inside her purse and dialed her best friend’s number. She prepared herself for admonishment from Picky for being so hard to get ahold of. She expected Picky to say something about her choosing Meredith over her or getting caught up in her fame and forgetting the little people. But Picky said none of that. She just sounded genuinely excited. “This time tomorrow we will be together!” Picky nearly sang when Wynne answered the phone.

  “Yeah,” Wynne said. “Then the real fun begins.”

  “You said it,” Picky agreed. “So, are you nervous yet? Has it hit you this is really happening? And more important that you have moi to thank for it?”

  She chuckled. “Something like that.”

  “So what are you doing right now? Getting ready for a big night out on the town with your new bestie?”

  There it was. “She’s not my new bestie. She’s actually kind of annoying if you want to know the truth. I’m still wondering how she ended up here, I actually never—”

  Picky, laughing, interrupted her. “Kidding, Wynne. I was totally kidding with you. I know you couldn’t replace me!”

  Wynne thought of the friendship that she and Picky had shared since the first day of Sunday school in the sixth grade. They had shared the gamut of emotions and experiences in the years that followed. That kind of lasting friendship wasn’t replaced in a few weeks of wedding hype. She was being overly sensitive and worrying too much. But what else was new?

  She steered the conversation back to something safe. “I’m going back to my hotel room and planning to call it a night. My bed is super comfortable and it’s calling my name.”

  “So there’s nothing going on beyond that over there? I’m disappointed. I was hoping for some hopping nightlife when I get there.”

  “Oh, a group is going out. I just opted not to join them.”

  “Is Andy going?”

  “He said he mi
ght. A bunch of them are.”

  “Wynnie, Wynnie, Wynnie. Haven’t I taught you anything? You’re actually sitting alone in a hotel room while your fiancé goes out?” She tsked through the phone lines. “You go put on a cute outfit and make him happy he’s marrying you in a few days.”

  Wynne smiled. “He’s happy he’s marrying me. I’m not worried about it. We’re getting ready to spend a lifetime together. He won’t miss one night. Plus, I’d like to have just five minutes to myself before the intensity of this blessed event cranks into overdrive. If I don’t go sit at a bar with these people one evening, it won’t be the worst thing.”

  Picky’s sigh was loud and dramatic. “Suit yourself. But when I get there we are going to do everything there is. We’re going to make the most of this experience.”

  Picky could hardly wait to get there and join the fun she was convinced they were having. And Wynne knew she had her eye out for Devin’s arrival too. “Deal,” she agreed.

  As if on cue, Picky added, “And you’re going to find a way to introduce me to Devin. And convince him to fall helplessly, hopelessly in love with me.”

  “Deal, again,” she said with a smile.

  Picky was quiet. Then, “You OK?”

  “Yeah,” she exhaled. “Busy. Overwhelmed. Tired.”

  “That’s all?”

  She paused, wondering what Picky was digging for. Because she was definitely digging, in her Picky way. “Sure. I’m about to get married. Why wouldn’t I be OK?”

  Picky sighed. “I saw Callum at church. He asked me to have lunch. He told me about . . . you two.”

  Wynne’s heart rate accelerated. At this point, she had no intention of admitting the truth about Callum to Picky. She would have to tell Andy, but Picky? No way did she need to hear that lecture. “I don’t know why he would talk to you about that.”

  “Because he’s confused. He feels things with you guys are . . . unfinished. And he knows it’s too late.” She paused to wait for Wynne’s response. When Wynne didn’t offer one, she continued. “And I think he blames me. In a way. I’m the one who made that video. So he wanted to talk to someone who sort of . . . knows the situation. It was kind of sad, actually.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Wynne said. “You’re defending Callum?”

  “Noooo. Not defending him. Just sharing what he said. I thought you should know.”

  “Okay, well now I know.” She turned the lock on her hotel room door, went straight to her bed and sank down, fighting off the urge to climb under the covers and stay there.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to marry Andy. And move forward with my life just like you—and everyone else—have told me to do.”

  “And you’re fine with where things are with Callum? Because he’s not.”

  Her voice sounded like a robot when she responded. “It’s like you said. It’s too late.”

  They were both quiet. “Just know I’m here if you want to talk. I had no idea this was even going on and I—”

  “It’s fine, Picky,” Wynne cut her off. “If it wasn’t, I would’ve told you. Yes, I saw Callum and I probably shouldn’t have. But I felt I owed it to both of us—if nothing else just to bring closure for us both before I entered this new chapter of my life.”

  Picky was quiet again. Wynne knew she was debating saying more, pushing harder. In the end she made some excuse about needing to go finish packing. “Just tell me one thing first, though,” she said. “Tell me you got closure. And that you’re totally done with Callum.”

  “I am,” she said, thankful that Picky couldn’t make her pinky promise like she used to when they were kids. They hung up after stating how excited they both were to see each other and to celebrate the much-anticipated nuptials. It was good to distract Picky from the Callum subject, good to hang up on a positive note. She put her phone down and stared at it for a moment, feeling bad for lying to Picky, but uncertain what the truth was anymore.

  She picked up the remote control and idly flipped through the channels, seeking something to take her mind off Picky’s voice saying Callum’s name, the way her blood whooshed through her veins, hot and fast, when the subject came up. She needed a good crime show to immerse herself in, something that had nothing to do with romance. But as she flashed through the channels, she saw her own face, and then Andy’s, and then Meredith’s on the screen. She sighed and stopped surfing long enough to see what this gossip show was saying about them.

  She saw Meredith giving a quote to a reporter, her permagrin turned to full wattage. “I’m just so thrilled to be a part of this celebration,” she gushed. Beside her Andy stood there, and she reached out and gave him a little squeeze. “This guy’s going to make the best husband.” He grinned at Meredith like they were good buddies—like he actually liked her. Looking at him on the screen, Wynne realized she felt like she was watching a total stranger, like he was just some guy on TV, not the man she was marrying in three days. Her blood coursed through her veins again, heating up her face and making her stomach hurt. What was this feeling? Was it just nerves or was there more to it? She clicked the TV off and stared at the blank, dark screen, thinking of Picky’s admonitions that she should be spending every available minute with Andy. It seemed that, in the last few weeks, they’d been spending very little time together, always with the promise that they’d have plenty of time together after the wedding. But maybe all the distance and distractions had created a wedge between them. Maybe that was why she was struggling with doubts—she just hadn’t spent enough time with her fiancé.

  After all, something had made her pick him. Something had made her say yes to his proposal. She looked at the clock. She would go down and surprise them, tell Andy they should go for a walk alone on the beach in the dark afterward. They could hold hands, kiss, talk, spend some much-needed time alone. Maybe they would broach the subject of the talk they had with the minister. Maybe she’d be brave enough to tell Andy the truth about Callum. Maybe he would put her mind at ease and dispel some of these doubts she was having. She had been so stupid, getting caught up in all these wedding preparations and not focusing on the marriage that was to come.

  She hopped up and checked her face in the bathroom mirror, slicking on some lip gloss and running a brush through her hair. The public had found her “Unassumingly pretty.” “Natural.” And “Wholesome.” She paused for a moment and, as always, wished they’d described her as “alluring” or “sexy.” She laughed and shook her head, her reflection moving in the mirror as she did. She would never be those things and had done her best to come to terms with it. Satisfied that she was presentable, she turned off the bathroom light, grabbed her keys and headed to find her fiancé.

  She stood stone still, watching the scene play out in front of her as if she was watching a bad reality show—the kind she would never have agreed to be in. The kind of show that featured bleeped out words, bar brawls, and desperate women throwing themselves at feckless, weak men. Because that was exactly what seemed to be playing out between Meredith and Andy as they sat across from each other, alone, in a dark corner table at the bar. Had anyone from the crew ever been there with them? It didn’t appear so. They looked quite cozy, leaning in, and oblivious to the rest of the world. She watched as Meredith threw back her head and laughed, her hand resting easily on Andy’s forearm, that radar gaze focused solely on him.

  Wynne’s heart raced as she debated what to do. Pretend she hadn’t seen them and get out before they saw her? Or stride across the restaurant in full-on combat mode? Too bad for the producers that there were no cameras here tonight. They would’ve bilked this for higher ratings if they had the chance. If she stood there much longer, she felt sure she might see something more. If she left now, there wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t get over. She watched as Meredith handed Andy her drink so he could taste it, the act somehow intimate and foreboding. She needed to get out of there quick.

  How did she get here? The question had bee
n popping into her mind with more and more frequency lately. Even more than when she was actually making the show week in and week out. Then it had just seemed like some nice fantasy, a little departure from the mundane reality of life. Never again would a cute, girl-next-door like her have guys trying to console her in droves. Never again would she be the object of so much affection. So what if most of them were actors just trying to make their mark? She had found the one authentic guy in the bunch. Or had she? She watched as Andy leaned forward and said something that made Meredith laugh again.

  She took a step back, then stood frozen as Meredith looked over and saw her there. She said something to Andy, who jumped up and started moving toward her. Wynne turned and walked out, grateful she was near the door and had a head start. She heard first Andy, then Meredith, call her name.

  She moved faster and faster, breaking into an outright run to escape them. It helped that they had both apparently had a lot to drink. It helped that she was sharper and more focused. It helped that neither one of them had any business getting behind the wheel of a car to chase her. Had she not come to find them, she would’ve never known about this. First their on-air interview she’d had no idea had even happened and now the chumminess in the bar. The questions of what else she didn’t know began to crowd her rationale.

  Suddenly Meredith’s voice rose over the ones in her head, shocking her enough to make her pause in her flight. She turned just as Meredith caught up to her. Andy held back, and Wynne refused to look him in the eye. “This isn’t whatever you think it is. Please don’t run away.” Meredith’s eyes under the streetlight in the parking lot were pleading. And tired.