“This is crazy,” I mutter more softly. It’s just a dance. Just go with it. I stifle a laugh. Just Go with It. Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler. She pretends to be his fiancée. My life’s more like a movie than I thought. Okay, breathe, dance, everything’s fine. Fine as in Freaking Inside Needing Exit.
We turn and Bethany looks over, so I smile on cue.
“And I didn’t say I was Bradley, you did, remember, hon?” Shane whispers.
I’m stressed, but the sensation of his breath on my skin makes my heart pound for a different reason. “Well, how was I supposed to explain who you were?” I whisper back. “And stop calling me hon.” My eyes close and I stifle a laugh. He sounds ridiculous imitating Bradley.
“You could have just said I was a work colleague. Then we could’ve agreed to talk after.”
Huh, didn’t think of that. “I just panicked,” I say, feeling the burn of embarrassment hot on my cheeks.
He pulls me closer. “I’m not complaining in the least, Kensington.”
I step back to create space, daring to meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
“I won’t do it again unless you ask, and only if that is no longer on your finger.” He looks pointedly at the ring.
My stomach drops. I know what he’s saying, but I’m not sure what he’s offering. What is he really offering? A romance? A maybe? A life?
Another click and the music abruptly changes again. It’s “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing.
I’m speechless. We both just look at each other. Shane’s lips twist in a grin. The music’s playing and the moment’s presented itself. Another movie scene. Shane tilts his head as if to say Why not?
“Would you mind letting this one play through, Bethany?” he shouts over the melody, not waiting for me to respond, never taking his eyes from mine. Shane places his hands, one on top of the other, over his heart. He taps his chest in a double thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Everything seems to fade except for him. I’m dazed as my mind cycles through the movie scenes.
“It’s a feeling. A heartbeat. Ga-gung. Ga-gung.” His voice is low, hypnotizing. He reaches for my hand and tucks it under his as he continues the thump-thump. “Close your eyes, Kensington.”
He pulls me in close and starts to move, still holding my hand to his chest, and I can feel his heart beating. Ga-gung. Ga-gung. Okay, calm thoughts. Ocean. Seagulls.
After a while my heart slows to match his, and I can’t tell them apart. Losing myself in the melody, enfolded in Shane’s arms, I sense myself wavering. Scenes from Dirty Dancing play in my mind, the one where Patrick Swayze teaches Jennifer Grey’s character how to dance. How to listen. Ga-gung. Ga-gung.
Stepping back, I give a clever grin and say the movie line. “Look, spaghetti arms, you gotta hold the frame.” I push his arms up and wave between us. “This is your dance space, this is my dance space.”
Shane’s eyes narrow with a spark of amusement. “I don’t want space.” He pulls me back.
“Yes! You need to lock the frame!” Bethany squeaks.
The world around us reappears.
“That’s it exactly.” She’s heading toward us, clicking her remote in rapid succession. She stops on “Hungry Eyes.” She yanks at Shane’s arms then positions mine. “And it’s on the two. One and two. Good.” She’s moving with us. “One and two. Yes. You’ve got it. Lock it in.” She’s now behind me, a hand on my hip and one between my shoulder blades.
Oh, no way.
“Yes, good. Keep your chins up.”
Shane’s smiling widely, looking from her over my shoulder back to me. I’m trying to hold in a giggle. This isn’t exactly the movie scene I envisioned. We’re dancing like Johnny and Baby did with Penny. Liza and her fiancé have stopped and are watching the three of us.
Shane laughs. “We need to do the lift.”
“What?” I stop, which stops Bethany.
“Yes, the lift from the movie. Bethany can show us, right?” Shane backs away.
“No.” I can’t imagine we’d be able to do that. Besides, they practiced in the water and a field. Soft places.
“Oh, he could do it. You just have to trust him.” Bethany has clicked her remote and started the song over. “Now, Kenzi, you’ll just need to get some momentum and bend your knees right as you approach and jump up. He’ll do the rest.”
My eyes flick from her to him and back again. They’re serious?
“Come on.” Shane takes a few more steps back and holds out his hand. He curls his index finger to signal “come here” like Patrick Swayze did during the final show at the resort.
I laugh, certain we’re going to end up on the floor in a pile of hurt.
“Okay.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. I bend over, palms to thighs for a running start. I’m off, running toward Shane with a stupid smile plastered on my face, right in front of him I spring, his hands are on my waist, mine are on his shoulders, he lifts and . . . and . . . “Oh my God!”
We didn’t get high, but we didn’t fall to the floor either.
“Again. This time really trust him,” Bethany says.
Okay, I’m back, I’m set.
Shane’s braced and ready. “Remember, you’ll hurt me if you don’t trust me. Isn’t that the line?”
“Isn’t that what happened?”
His eyes soften. “Never again, Kensington.”
My heart bounces. I run. He has my waist. I spring . . . and we’re . . . Oh my gosh. I’m up! I’m up! I’m Jennifer Grey! Ha, take that.
“Hold the position, Kenzi. You’re doing it!” Bethany’s yelling excited.
Well, we’re kind of doing it. It’s not graceful by any means. His arms aren’t fully extended and I’m holding on to him instead of spreading mine out. But it’s not too bad. Liza and Ryan are clapping and whooping, jumping up and down.
Oh . . . Oh no. “Whoa!” I’m going forward. “Whoa, whoooa . . .”
Shane walks quickly backward trying to hold his balance. Instinctively, my legs swing and I lean back to slide down. My arms are wrapped tight around his neck, my legs around his waist.
He has me.
“Oh my gosh.” I’m laughing. “I’m sorry.”
They’re cheering.
Shane whispers just for me. “I’ll never be sorry.” It’s the line from the end of the movie. The end of their romance.
But I don’t think ours has ended.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Confessions of a Rom-com-aholic
IT’S TUESDAY. I’VE HAD all night to process. To plan. Walking into the office, I’m trying to keep things in perspective. In retrospect, the sky hasn’t fallen. Ren didn’t know anything when I checked on her, and Bradley seemed normal when he checked on me. So maybe the assortment of layered calamities won’t escalate into anything more, at least not yet.
No one’s in the office, so I flip on the first set of overhead lights and plop my stuff down on my desk. I have a change of clothes for the paintball thing after work, and a bag packed in the car, just in case Clive still expects me to visit Shane’s farm. Or I, at the last minute, decide to skip out and hit Vegas.
I like that option. It has promise. My plan B is the make-myself-happy, live-on-my-own plan. So, we’ll call Vegas a solid plan C.
For now, I’m dressed for a battle of confidence. Mine. I need some to get through this day. A cute orange pocket skirt, long-sleeve tee, and platform pumps is my armor of choice. It says I’m ready to take on the world.
Even if I’m not.
My puffy, red-rimmed eyes are a dead giveaway. It was a long night.
I can’t believe that back in college, Mom encouraged Shane to let things be. That leaving was best. Or that Tonya thought it would be a mistake for me to go with him. Why does everyone get to decide for me? Mom, Tonya, Bradley, even Shane. His words pop to mind, I won’t do it again unless you ask, and only if that is no longer on your finger. He’s not deciding now. He’s leaving it to me.
But he hasn’t offered anything either.
Do I need him to? Does it change anything? No, it really doesn’t. The past has happened and I’m defining my future. Regardless of what anyone else does or doesn’t do.
I just hope I can keep my wits about me and keep to my plan.
Opening my laptop, I log in, and check Facebook first thing. No new updates from Renson, or my mom, really weird. I know Ren’s still not feeling well. I hope I don’t get sick like that when I get pregnant. If I ever get pregnant. Plan B doesn’t have that guarantee.
Running into Tonya is also playing on my mind. I know she got my whacked-out messages from the weekend, but she never called me back. Do I blame her? Yes. I do. I do blame her.
She should be apologizing to me, swearing it was a stupid thing to do. We’re supposed to fight and yell. She should want to make it up to me, instead she doesn’t even care.
Because I don’t matter. Not quite good enough. I palm my forehead in both hands and slouch over my desk. I only need to be good enough for me. My standards. My life. My choices.
With a determined sigh, I tap out a quick, generic e-mail to Shane requesting a review. He needs to sign off on stage two for the Carriage House. My conceptual is far enough along, even if the completion of the list isn’t. Clive’s already asked for it so he can bill him. Opening his earlier e-mail with the Love Like the Movies list, I copy it and paste it at the bottom.
I know what including this list implies. It says I’m still willing to go along with our agreement. That I want to . . .
I cross out both number 10 and number 5, and before I chicken out, hit SEND.
1. Sleepless in Seattle
2. Pretty Woman
3. Bridget Jones’s Diary
4. 27 Dresses
5. Dirty Dancing
6. Sixteen Candles
7. Love Actually
8. Say Anything
9. You’ve Got Mail
10. My Best Friend’s Wedding
Opening the movie conceptual for the Carriage House, I use my pen and tablet to apply thin strokes and detail work to the poster images of Sleepless in Seattle. I have two I’m using in the montage, the main one with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks looking at each other, and a single shot of the Empire State Building with the heart lit up in its windows.
An Affair to Remember is a remake of Our Love Affair, and the movie Sleepless in Seattle is loosely based on. It wasn’t Valentine’s Day when they agreed to meet at the top of the Empire State Building in the originals; it was just a meaningless date in January.
And in the original, the male lead, Nickie, is a painter. He’s an undiscovered talent that has never really tried to make it in the art world, until inspired by Deborah Kerr’s character, Terry.
This hits home on so many levels. With Shane, I’m inspired to try. Even if it means without him.
The voice mail icon pops up on my phone with a chime. With a deep breath, I wipe the tears that have built up in my lashes, and click PLAY.
It’s from Aunt Greta. “Hey, kiddo. Do me a favor and give me a ring back when you get this.”
That’s all it says. Did the wedding planner say something to Ren? Did Ren say something to Mom, who then said something to Aunt Greta? I’m dialing her number, bracing for the worst. My pulse is racing. I wanted to control the dispensing of damage today, not be knocked over by it.
“That was quick.”
“Hi, everything okay?” Why did I ask that?
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be.”
Is there an edge to her voice? Am I imagining that? Shit, I don’t want to explain yesterday. Yesterday is not part of today’s plan. And I’m sticking to my plan.
“Have you talked to Ren?”
Oh, God. My plan is screwed. My heart thuds to the floor. “No-oo, why?” I’m imagining the hissy fit my mom must have thrown when Ren told her what the wedding planner probably said. The beans have spilled. Clean up on aisle two. Plan C is looking really good right now.
“She’s been staying at your mom’s. I just think—”
Wait. “What? I talked with her earlier. She never mentioned anything.”
“Grayson’s being his wonderfully stubborn self. Ren’s being Ren, but now with an added hormonal edge. It’s a lovely combination. She walked out on him yesterday.”
“No! The perfect Renson duo is dueling?” Maybe she wasn’t just sick.
Aunt Greta laughs. “At war is more like it. Thought maybe she confided in you?”
“Me?” I can feel my jaw drop. “Why would she talk to me? Isn’t she at Mom’s? I’m sure they’re—”
“Nope. Not a word. Your mom called me not knowing what to do. Ren’s just sitting over there crying. Grayson’s even tried, but she won’t see him. Some major issues, if you ask me. And I know you probably don’t see it, but I think she looks up to you. You’re like the sister she never had.”
We definitely bicker like sisters.
Hanging up with Aunt Greta, I dial Ren’s cell. I should at least leave a message. I don’t always like her, but I don’t hate her. I internally rehearse what I should say. I’m concerned, hope things get better, if you need anything you can call me, blah, blah, blah. Yep, I know exactly what to say.
“Hello?” She answers on the first ring.
I don’t know what to say.
“Hello?” Ren’s voice cracks as if she’s been crying.
“Oh, hey, sorry, I thought I’d get your voice mail.”
Silence.
Ugh, fine. I lean back in my chair. “Are you okay?”
It was the question that broke the dam. Has no one else thought of this question? Seriously? Twenty minutes of Ren cry-telling me how Grayson isn’t being supportive, and doesn’t understand her, and how she doesn’t want my mom to know much because she’ll get involved and might blame her for their squabble. Wow, do I get that one.
Twenty minutes of how sick she’s been, and not just in the morning. Twenty minutes of not knowing what to expect once the baby arrives. Twenty minutes of me realizing we have more in common than I thought.
“You know the other day when you were upset with Mom about your school paintings? And you told her, well, everyone, how you felt?”
Uh-oh. I cringe, ready for a berating. “Yeah.”
“I wish I could do that. Just say exactly what’s on my mind, regardless of how crazy I sound or look.”
“Okay . . .” I’m not sure how to take that.
“What I mean, Kenz, is . . . I always worry that if Grayson saw me lose it, and I mean really lose it like you do, that . . . I don’t know, I’d lose him.” Her voice cracks and she sniffs. “Maybe lose all of you—”
“Ren . . .” I don’t know what to say.
“But you don’t worry about that even with Bradley, and you’re not even married yet. You just say it like it is and you don’t even care—”
“No, I care, they don’t.” My voice takes on an instant edge. “They don’t care at all! That’s why I get so mad.”
“But they do, your mom was really upset when you left. Your parents got in a fight about it.”
I sit up. “Really?”
“Yeah . . .” She takes a long breath.
I’m quiet for a beat, trying to process. “You know what, Ren, we’re family, okay?” I can’t believe I’m saying this. No, I can’t believe I mean it. “We’re not going anywhere. And if I’m honest, I’d love it if you’d just lose it sometimes. You don’t have to be so perfect. In fact, I’d feel less like a spazz if you did.”
“Well, this whole pregnancy thing is just harder than I thought, it’s all a big change and—” Ren’s voice hitches again.
“It is a big change. And Grayson needs to participate and help. You need to go home right now, and just let Grayson have it. And I mean rip into him good. I promise you won’t lose him. He loves you, he’s just Grayson.”
“Okay, yeah.” Ren laughs. “I will. I think I really will, thanks, Kensington.” She sniffs, lowers the phone, and
blows her nose. “And Kenz . . .” Another sniff. “You said you were confused about Bradley yesterday?”
She has all this going on and she remembers that?
My stomach lunges. “Yeah.” It comes out small and it’s all I can manage.
“Listen, even though I’m mad at Grayson, and oh, he can make me so mad . . . I’m still sure he’s the one. The only one for me. Who else is going to laugh at my dumb jokes? Or make me grilled cheese when I’ve had a bad day? You know what I mean? It’s hard enough, all of it, so you have to be sure.”
Now I have tears. Ren’s not judging me in the least. No, Ren’s just saying to be sure. That I need to be sure. Wow. “Thanks, Ren.”
WALKING INTO THE CONFERENCE ROOM, I pull the dimmer up slightly to bathe the room in a dingy yellow haze. The three printouts of my paintings are still leaning on the board. They’re really not bad. Of course, now I’ll never see the originals again to be sure. Mom felt bad.
I pull my ring off and rotate it mindlessly between my fingers. I could maybe open my own studio. I never even tried. Why didn’t I?
The Wedding Planner pops into my head. Not that psycho Bethany Chesawit, but the movie. When Steve, who is engaged to Fran, says to his friend about Mary, “Fran’s great, but what if what I think is great, really is great, but not as great as something greater?”
And what if there isn’t?
Can I really stand on my own?
That’s what I spent all night debating. And Ren’s right, you have to be sure. And about this, I am. I just need the courage to act on it.
“Hey, watcha doin’ in here all by yourself?” Ellie’s in the doorway. She looks guilty. She shouldn’t have told Shane about the wedding planner’s yesterday, and I am mad, but not at her. Not really.
“Hey,” I say, wiping under my eyes and turning toward her.
“Kenz, I tried to warn you Shane was on his way.” She takes a few steps inside.
“You mean after you told him where I was, right?” I slouch back in the chair.
Love Like the Movies Page 15
