by Cynthia Dane
Chapter 9
If the actual wedding day was supposed to be the most exciting of Jasmine’s life, then going shopping for her wedding dress should have been the second most exciting.
Like most brides, Jasmine had spent an insubordinate amount of time looking at wedding dresses and dreaming of what kind she wanted. She had dog-eared everything there was to see, and with Ethan’s generous budget, she knew that the sky was the limit as far as her dress was concerned. Neither designers nor tailoring was an issue when Jasmine had a certain black card on file that carried the name Ethan A. Cole.
Anyone who was anyone, however, insisted that there was only one boutique to shop for a wedding dress in. Naturally, it was located in New York City, a quick jaunt in first class for Jasmine and her small entourage. Convincing her mother to stay dressed, however, was a bigger ordeal than it ever should have been.
Besides her mother, Jasmine was joined by Selena and Monica, the latter of whom assured she was clear to fly to both Jasmine and the flight attendants who expressed concern that it was too dangerous. “What, do I look like I’m going to pop tomorrow? Please. More like three months from now. I’m just fat, dear.”
“That is the heaviest pregnancy I have ever seen,” Luna said, leaning across the first class aisle so she could whisper in her daughter’s ear. “That woman is going to need every herb I can think of to help her with the stretchmarks afterward.” When Monica slightly turned in her seat, ears red and lips pursing in annoyance, Luna continued, “Not that there’s anything wrong with stretchmarks. They’re positively beautiful. They’re like the roadmap of a woman’s life! See?” Just as the flight attendant walked by, Luna lifted her shirt, showing off her plethora of stretch marks she had amassed over the years. “This is the Jasmine trail right here.”
“Please… please put your stomach away, Mother.”
Yet Luna refused to play by anyone’s rules, let alone her daughter’s. Once they were in the air, she and Selena gabbed loudly about homemade Mexican food and how one should take certain precautions to avoid meetings with the porcelain gods. Jasmine put on her headphones so she wouldn’t have to hear about diarrhea, vomit, and “strange black stuff,” as Selena put it. “Never gonna eat Guatemalan food again… don’t care what my grandmother says…”
When that conversation died down, Luna moved to Monica, who spent most of her flight flipping through lifestyle magazines one minute and baby magazines the next. “So when are you due? I recently attended the most beautiful water birth.”
Monica may have been the queen of propriety, but even she had to be tired of all the questions about her pregnancy by now. “Everyone has an opinion about it and what I’m doing, and all of those opinions suck,” she told Jasmine a few days ago.
“I’m due in late July, unfortunately.” Monica flipped her magazine shut. “It’s supposed to be very hot this summer, so I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Oh! Those are the sun’s rays welcoming your baby into the world with warm arms!”
Monica sighed, picking up another magazine. “I’m sure it is. That’s very kind of it.”
“Have you picked out a name yet?”
“I’ve thought of a few, but nothing is settled yet.”
“Oh, it’s good to have a few on hand. Sometimes you think you’re settled on a name, but the moment that baby is put in your arms, you realize that you’ve got it all wrong. We were originally going to name Jasmine Luna like I’m named these days, but her paleness was all wrong for the moon. She was more like a jasmine flower. Even as a newborn, she wasn’t that pink or red. You can always be surprised.”
Monica politely nodded before pulling her magazine up between her face and Jasmine’s mother. Luna looked around anxiously before finally pouncing on her daughter for the remainder of the trip. Apparently someone still couldn’t fly in the sky without the nerves taking over.
Luna was further alienated when they checked into a downtown penthouse suite for the weekend. Views of Central Park lay beneath the high-rise window when Jasmine went to admire it. Amber arranged this room for me. Granted, Ethan told her to do it, but it was a nice gesture.
There were only three rooms, since they had no idea Luna would be joining them until the last minute, so Jasmine was forced into a room with her mother. This wouldn’t have been a terrible problem, except Luna insisted on sleeping naked – and her rubbery skin had a habit of rubbing against her daughter as Jasmine tried to sleep in the air conditioned room.
The next day, they piled into a rented Rolls-Royce and headed to the boutique for their appointment. It didn’t hit Jasmine that she would hopefully be purchasing her wedding dress that day until she walked into the boutique and was immediately surrounded by some of the most beautifully crafted dresses she had ever seen in her life.
Mermaid dresses. Ball gowns. Empire waists. Trains as long as the street outside, and busts that let it all hang out or conservatively covered. Strapless. Sleeveless. Skirtless, if someone wanted to create their own DIY dress that would then be stitched by a master seamstress. Jasmine looked at the notes she brought with her and realized she really didn’t know where to start. It didn’t help that her mother made sarcastic remarks about slave labor and Selena cried over anything that was beyond a grand. Which was everything but some pairs of gloves.
They were assisted by a woman named Charise, who took one look at Jasmine and subtly suggested she might be interested in certain designers. She guessed this purely on Jasmine’s look, for there was only so much a woman could learn from looking up Jasmine’s identity online. As far as the internet was concerned, Jasmine Bliss was Ethan Cole’s lucky plaything who came from Nowheresville, USA. Suited her fine. Until moments like these, when she could really use the expert advice of someone who knew her well. Because her friends and her mother were clueless about everything else. Well, except for maybe Monica, but she was confined to a couch with glasses of ice water, since walking more than a few yards already had her bemoaning the state of her swollen feet.
What commenced was one of the most grueling afternoons of Jasmine’s life.
She tried on at least twenty dresses. Some of them were fine to look at on her, but none of them screamed Get married in this! At first, Jasmine brushed off the sinking feeling in her stomach as, well, that was life. She wouldn’t find the perfect dress on the first try. How could she? That never happened. She had endless wealth to dispense on whatever she wanted! She didn’t have to settle, even though the poufy princess gown making her look ten years younger would have been fine if these were the only dresses she had to choose from. Of course, Charise worked on commission, so she was determined to get Jasmine to buy something. Yet at the end of the day, after twenty designer dresses had touched her body, the only thing Jasmine could commit to was an elegant tiara that melded seamlessly into her tangle of hair. Her mother cried to see it, but none of the dresses on her daughter’s body.
“Honestly, honey, as over the top as I think these nice dresses are… if I’m not moved, then you’re probably not moved either. I want to see you in your dress and bawl my eyes out.”
It was the only time that day Jasmine agreed with her mother. She was not happy to walk out of the boutique without having found “the” dress – especially when there was only a few weeks left to find one – but she told herself that it was better than settling. Of course, Selena told her she was an idiot for not picking every single dress in there, and Monica suggested Jasmine set up appointments all over the Eastern seaboard to find something suitable. This from the woman who had a dress picked out within two weeks of being officially engaged. She really had found the perfect dress. Jasmine always had something to be envious of.
They returned home the next day, Jasmine receiving a call from Ethan that he would be staying in the penthouse that night and she should join him. First she had to make the customary stop by his office. So after seeing everyone else home, she went to the Thomas-Cole building, only to be told by Nadia – who expre
ssed her sympathies over the lack of the dress – that Ethan was downstairs in the company gym.
Instead of waiting around the office for her fiancée to return or going straight to the penthouse to rest, Jasmine left her things behind Nadia’s desk and rode down to the twenty-seventh floor, which was a dedicated health club for employees and investors.
Nobody was there, and that meant nobody. When Jasmine worked for her fiancée, she often came here to find someone Ethan needed to talk to and couldn’t get a hold of in the building. There was always at least half a dozen men and women making use of the grand gym, and that didn’t account for the people on the indoor courts or in the locker rooms at any given time. So, Jasmine deduced, that really did mean Ethan was somewhere around there, because every time the CEO came to work out the whole place was cleared out for him. Ethan liked his privacy when he exercised.
Jasmine turned a corner in the gym and saw him, in gray T-shirt and black gym shorts, tearing up an elliptical machine with a TV screen set to Bloomberg overhead. Before she could say hello, though, she saw someone else pacing back and forth in front of him – Adrienne, dressed in a black Ralph Lauren shirt dress and with her dark hair pulled to the side of her head and wound in a loose bun. Her heels created a dent in the carpet beneath the hanging television as she spoke candidly to her ex-boyfriend. Excuse me, current business partner.
“…Hyacinth Winchester is one of the most prestigious names in the country, let alone this God forsaken city.” That’s what Jasmine heard as she hid behind a folded up treadmill. So far, neither Ethan nor Adrienne had seen her. Ethan was too busy focusing on his workout, and Adrienne was too preoccupied with ramming Ethan with whatever it was she concerned herself with. “To deny her invitation is hubris beyond even your capabilities. Ethan, I can’t keep courting her as an investor myself. I need you to do it too. I know how much you hate formal luncheons, but it can’t be helped. She won’t touch us unless we both leave a positive impression on her. I’ve done everything I can. Time for you to actually be my partner.”
She stopped in front of Ethan’s machine, arms crossed and face set like stone. Ethan slowed down his workout, toweled off some sweat, and drank from his water bottle before responding. “Fine. I’ll go with you. You’re doing all the talking.”
“Ethan Adam…” Uh oh. She was busting out the middle name. Good to know Adrienne did that too when she was fed up. “Would you read your fucking invitations? The plus one isn’t for me. It’s for your fiancé.”
“I know. We’ll both go stag and say our SOs couldn’t make it.”
“It doesn’t work that way! Hyacinth Winchester has invited us for lunch to woo her and her wallet, and she wants us to bring dates! Now, who gives a fuck who I bring as long as they can handle it, but she’s going to expect Jasmine to be there. You’re having one of the biggest weddings of the year in two months, and naturally you’ve invited her. She’s going to expect to meet Jasmine before condescending to attend your wedding. Don’t be stupid, Ethan. Bring her. Make sure you tell her how serious it is first.”
When Ethan bowed his head and went back to smashing his feet against the pedals, Adrienne scoffed.
“Is that the problem, here? You don’t want her embarrassing you in front of Hyacinth?”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan cut in. “Jasmine only embarrassed me… twice. Those were both a long time ago. Honestly, Adrienne, if I can survive her making a mockery of my business meetings not once, but twice, I can handle her using the wrong fork at one of Mrs. Winchester’s fancy luncheons.”
“That’s not the problem and you know it.”
“Then what is the problem, Adrienne? I’d love for you to come out and say it.”
“Say what?”
“That Jasmine embarrasses you and everyone else in this stupid fucking universe.”
Much to Jasmine’s horror, Adrienne did not deny such a thing. She stood there, smirking as she leaned one arm against the handlebars of the elliptical machine and crossed her ankles. “She does embarrass everyone. It’s amusing, really. She tries so hard to be a good girl in this ‘stupid fucking universe,’ but the more she tries, the more she fails. People would probably rather she go ahead and be the naughty little uncouth tramp they think she is than try so hard to be someone she’s not. Face it, Ethan, you may love the woman, and I’m not going to say don’t marry her, but you’ve got a consistent business issue on your hand by having her so close.”
“Don’t hold back, Adrienne. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Oh, I am holding back. Look, I like Jasmine. She’s a sweet girl who makes you happy. Great. Good for the both of you. As your former girlfriend, let me congratulate you on your love and happiness. As your business partner? Go fuck yourself. Admit it, Ethan, you needed me to sweep in and save you and subsequently your company because you were losing important contacts. Not just ones who had more loyalty to Jackson Lyle than you. People who got tired of being associated with a man who fucked his assistant. One thing for everyone to know you secretly did that. You kept that under the table. To actually go public with one? You’re a giant stereotype of new money, and you know it.”
“Because no man born with money has ever fucked his personal assistant. Let alone married one. Didn’t Dominic Mathers start the whole craze back in the eighties?”
“Men with old money can get away with murder. Because they all take care of each other.” Scoffing, Adrienne turned away. “I should know! I’ve fucked a lot of them and got to hear the nasty pillow talk!”
“Oh, I know you have.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“And don’t insult my fiancée like that!”
Ethan had stopped his workout, towel flinging around his shoulders the moment he roared at his business partner. Although Adrienne’s demeanor remained unchanged, she took one startled step back. “If you think I’m insulting her? Imagine what’s going to happen once you’re actually married to her. Nobody will say it to your face as long as you’re worth doing business with, but they will say it behind your back. Endlessly. Unless someone comes along and saves you from their derision – which you shouldn’t count on happening anytime soon – you’re going to have to fucking deal with it. I know you can handle it. You don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of your personal life. What about Jasmine? How do you think she’ll take to being ostracized any more than she is right now? Trust me. Maybe she’s not telling you about what’s going on, but she’s feeling it. It will get even harder if you two decide to have kids.”
Ethan stepped off the elliptical. “What is the argument here, exactly? How did we go from Hyacinth’s invitation to insulting my innocent fiancée?”
Adrienne turned her nose, as if Ethan’s sweat offended her. “You’re going to that luncheon, and you’re taking Jasmine with you. And you’re going to let me give her a run down on how to behave beforehand… without fucking her in public this time, thank you. If you can get Hyacinth to say, ‘Oh, that Jasmine was nice. Where’s my tequila?’ then we’ve done our fucking job since her opinion carries so much clout in her social circles. We might get her money.”
During this exchange, Jasmine ran a gamut of conflicting emotions. She was angry that Adrienne was saying these things about her; sad that she was reminded of how she didn’t fit in with most of the rich women in the area; concerned that Ethan didn’t do much except yell in her defense, as good as it was. The only bit of happiness she felt was that her fiancé didn’t think twice to defend her. Everything else? That sucked.
So by the time Ethan opened his mouth to tell Adrienne to fuck off again, Jasmine couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped out from behind the folded up treadmill and approached the business partners as if she hadn’t been listening at all – even though it was painfully obvious that she had been.
“Shit,” Adrienne muttered, turning away. She wasn’t even going to pretend she had been saying nothing but nice things about Ethan’s fiancée.
Ethan
didn’t look happy to see Jasmine either, but at least he opened one sweaty arm to invite her into a welcoming hug. Jasmine slipped against him, unfazed by the heavy scent of his body odor before he had the chance to shower. “I’m sorry,” was all Ethan said.
“No, it’s fine.” Jasmine’s straight face was forced, but she wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “You’re right. She’s right. I’m a train wreck of manners and bad breeding. It fucking sucks, Ethan.”
He sighed. Adrienne sighed too, but hers came from relief that Jasmine wasn’t going to have a meltdown. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I’m sorry I never noticed,” Ethan said.
“Why would you have noticed? You’re on a different plane of existence from me, Ethan. People treat you differently… and that goes double for when you’re not around me. I’ve gotten used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I know that it will get harder once I’m your wife. If this luncheon is that important for your business and image, then let me do what I can. Adrienne will teach me everything I need to know to survive it, I’m sure. Even Heidi was able to turn her life around in that one story.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Adrienne said curtly. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“How was your trip?” Ethan asked, completely changing the subject. Adrienne rolled her eyes and turned away, whipping out her cell phone. “Did you find a dress?”
Now Jasmine couldn’t help but frown. “No. I tried on so many dresses. None of them were right for me, however. I’m sorry. You paid for a completely wasted trip.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, and I’m sure that you’ll find a good dress soon enough. Whatever you pick, you’ll be beautiful.”
Adrienne put her phone away. “I must leave. I’ll call you later to discuss the luncheon.” She didn’t say that to anyone in particular. “Until then… well, sorry to hear about the dress, Jasmine. Sorry for anything you heard me say to Ethan.”
