by Cat Carmine
Sure enough, her voice on the other end of the line is groggy.
“Hey,” she mumbles. “What’s up?”
Instead of answering, I burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Rori’s voice is instantly alert. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I manage, before a fresh wave of sobs overtakes me.
I can almost hear Rori pacing on the other end of the line. “Celia, talk to me, sweetie. What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I fucked up,” I mutter dejectedly. “Big time.”
And then I’m telling her the whole story, about Trent overhearing my conversation with Jace, about him flying back to New York to try to find me.
Rori makes appropriately sympathetic noises and I’m starting to feel a little bit better, but by the time I get to the end of my story, I can hear something almost like …
“Are you laughing?” I ask, horrified.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, catching her breath. “I’m not laughing. It’s just so … unlike you.”
“What is?”
“All of it. This whole thing. Going to a wedding with a stranger, pretending to be his fiancee, storming dramatically out of a restaurant…. This isn’t the Celia I know.”
“I know.” I flop backwards onto the bed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. It’s like, ever since I threw those muffins at Martin, I’ve been a completely different person.”
“Wait, back the truck up,” she says. “Ever since you did what to Martin?”
I giggle. “I thought I told you this story.”
“Uh, I think I would remember a story like this.”
I laugh again, shaking my head at the memory. “A week or so before I left, I confronted Martin in the break-room at work. Words were said. Muffins were thrown.”
“Celia!” Rori says, sounding equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s … amazing.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it actually kind of was. Until one of the senior partners walked in and told me my behavior was unbecoming. They made me take a personal leave. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I agreed to this whole thing with Jace — I didn’t want to think about Martin, or about the fact that I couldn’t even go to my job anymore.”
Rori’s quiet on the other end of the line. Which, knowing Rori, means she’s either about to judge me or to drop a truth bomb on me. Maybe both.
“You know, I thought you were crazy when you told me about this thing with Jace,” she admits. “I thought you’d gone off the deep end. That you’d given up on love entirely. But now I wonder …”
My heart flutters in my throat.
“Wonder what?”
Rori takes a moment before she answers. “I wonder if maybe it wasn’t exactly the opposite. Maybe you were finally jumping.”
I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve always been so caught up in your own head,” she continues. “Always having to be Miss Perfect. But no one’s perfect, Celia.”
“I know.” At least I know that now.
“Maybe Jace is good for you. And maybe you’re finally ready to let go a little.”
Tears are streaming down my face down, pooling on the duvet underneath me. I try to wipe them away but the tide seems endless.
“What do I do now?” I ask Rori. “Jace is stuck in New York. He’ll never forgive me if he misses the wedding.”
“Well,” Rori says thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I agree with you about that. But … you know who could help you with this, don’t you?”
As soon as she says it, my jaw clenches.
“No.”
“I’m not saying you have to call him. I’m just saying if anyone could pull in a favor and get a flight on such short notice, it’s probably him.”
“You’re right,” I mutter, even though I hate the very notion. “Thanks for your help, Rori.”
“Of course, babe. Let me know if you need anything, and keep me posted. You can send Jace my contact info if you want, in case he needs anything while he’s here.”
I promise I will, and then I hang up. I stare at my phone in my hand is if it were a poisonous snake. I can’t do it. I can’t. Not after everything that had happened. Everything he had put me through.
Then my phone buzzes. Another text from Jace.
“Still no luck. Think I have no choice but to try standby.”
I text him Rori’s contact info, even though I doubt he’ll reach out to her, and then I bite my lip. I hate — loathe — the thought of doing this, but the thought of Jace missing the wedding is a million times worse.
I scroll through my contacts until I find the one I’m looking for. I hadn’t been able to delete his number from my phone entirely because I still needed it for work, but I’d changed the name on it to Fuckface, which always gave me a sense of smug satisfaction.
I take a deep breath, then hit the call button and watch as my phone says “Dialing Fuckface.”
With every ring, I think about hanging up. But then I picture Jace, stuck at the airport in New York, while his brother says I do.
Finally, he picks up the phone. His nasally voice is like nails on a blackboard. How could I have ever thought I wanted to marry this man?
“Martin Covington.”
I take a deep breath.
“It’s me. I need a favor.”
26
Celia
I pace nervously around the small executive airport. Jace’s plane was supposed to land ten minutes ago and there’s still no sign of him, or of it.
I check the time on my phone again and tell myself to relax. There are still three hours until the wedding, and even with the hour it will take to make it out to Luke’s place, that still leaves plenty of time. He’ll make it.
He has to.
Martin had been able to call in a favor with one of his clients and get Jace on a private executive plane. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled about doing me a favor, but I reminded him that he owed me. The bastard still made me swear to never throw another baked good at him. I’d promised, but I was already mentally cataloging other things I could throw it him the next time I saw him. Preferably sharp and pointy things.
Still, I have to admit that I’m grudgingly grateful. Now Jace won’t miss the wedding … and there’s at least a slim chance that we can move past all of this.
That slim chance is all that’s keeping me going right now. I check my phone again and try to fight down the wave of nervous bile that’s filling my stomach.
I peer out the window, up through the clear sky. There isn’t a cloud for miles, and I scan the blue expanse, looking for anything that might be Jace’s plane.
I squint at a tiny black dot that seems to come out of nowhere. At first I think it’s just a speck of dust, and I even rub the window with the side of my hand. But the speck gets bigger, and I hold my breath.
It’s a plane. I think it might be him.
Only instead of being relieved, I now feel more nervous than ever.
Twenty minutes later, Jace comes striding across the tarmac. He’s the only one on the plane, besides the crew, and he looks so lonely out on the wide open stretch of asphalt. I want to run to him, to wrap my arms around, to kiss him and tell him that I’m the stupidest person on the planet and that he can even throw muffins at me if he’ll just forgive me.
But I don’t do any of those things.
Instead I stand there waiting, tapping my foot and twisting at a lock of my dark hair, until he’s finally inside the airport.
When he finally steps inside, his eyes scan the room until they land on me. There’s a moment where I think everything’s going to be okay. There’s a look of relief in his eyes. Not just relief either, but longing and … hope.
But as soon as it appears, it’s gone again. His face turns grim and he strides over to me. “We need to get to the hotel.”
“I have a cab waiting.”
We walk in silence out of
the airport. The cab driver that I’d hired is still sitting there, fiddling on his phone and listening to some sort of Korean pop music. I had paid him to stay here and wait for me, because I didn’t want to risk wasting time when Jace landed. Come hell or high water, I am making sure that man gets to the wedding.
But the entire way back to the hotel, Jace won’t even look at me. He stares out the window, his thigh vibrating as he shakes his knee up and down impatiently. His body seems harder than usual, his muscles coiled and tense. The heat of him next to me usually sends me into a tailspin, but today it just makes me feel lonely and sad.
I want to apologize but the words feel stuck in my throat. Mostly I’m just scared though. Because what if I apologize and it’s still not enough? What if he hates me?
I can’t exactly blame him if he does. I had made such a mess of this weekend — he’s probably counting down the hours until we’re back in New York and he can safely avoid me forever.
So instead of apologizing, I just knot my fingers nervously in my lap and stare out the window, telling myself that I’ll talk to him after the wedding, and praying that there’s still a chance for us.
The wedding is at Luke’s place, but the wedding party is gathering at the Grand Windsor Hotel to get ready and take some pre-ceremony photos, so that’s where we have the cab take us.
As soon as we get there, Jace heads straight for the elevators. I follow him because I’m not sure what else to do with myself, but I hesitate when he steps inside.
He hits the button for his floor and then turns around to look at me. I’m still standing outside the elevator, looking on nervously.
Something twists in Jace’s face, and then he jerks his chin, gesturing for me to come inside with him. I step gratefully into the interior of the elevator, and the door slides smoothly closed behind me.
The elevator suddenly feels very small, even with just the two of us in it. Jace is wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans — he must have changed after he got back from the restaurant last night. God, was that really only last night?
The elevator stops at our floor, the one where we’d been staying together. Jace gets out and I follow along behind him like a sad little puppy. When we get to the room, his stuff is all still there — I guess he didn’t check out last night. The suit he’d been wearing at dinner is balled up in a pile on the floor.
I want to be helpful so I go to the closet and pull out the bag that holds his tuxedo. He takes it from me wordlessly, unzipping it and pulling out the crisply pressed fabric.
I sit on the bed as he changes. I can’t help but watch his sculpted body as he undresses, remembering all the times my fingers have grazed across his skin, the way his muscles tensed and flexed when he fucked me, the solid comforting weight of him in the bed next to me. A pang of loneliness rings out in my heart, even though he’s standing just a few feet away from me. How is it that you can be so close to someone and still feel so far apart?
When he’s finished changing, he turns to face me.
“Look okay?” He asks. He’s got a half-grin and it’s sweet and charming and self-effacing and all I want to do is kiss it right off his face. I stand up and take a few tentative steps towards him, then reach out and straighten the yellow bow-tie.
“You look amazing,” I tell him truthfully. Jace might be a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy, but God, he looks hot in a suit.
His grin deepens, carving out a dimple in one cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment we do nothing but look at each other. My hands are still holding onto the ends of his tie — they seem almost frozen there. Afraid to move any further, but equally afraid to move away. The silence between us grows until it feels like an unbreachable chasm.
Jace glances down at his watch.
“Shit. I have to go. I was supposed to meet Trent ages ago for photos.” He grins ruefully. “I told him I was getting a haircut.” He runs his hand across the top of his head, to the clearly uncut hair.
I actually laugh. “He’ll be so preoccupied with the wedding, he won’t even notice,” I assure him.
“You’re probably right about that.” He pauses, and then takes a step backwards. I let go of his tie. He’s already walking towards the door.
Just before he goes, though, he turns back to face me one more time. I can’t read the expression that’s written on his face.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Okay.” My voice is a whisper.
And then he’s gone.
27
Jace
I make my way up to the sixteenth floor, where Trent and Hannah have booked a couple of suites for the wedding party. I’m crazy late now — I was supposed to be there hours ago. But better late than never, I guess, and I’ll still be able to ride out to Luke’s with them in one of the limos they had reserved.
I knock on the door of the suite number Trent had texted me, and then push the door open without waiting for a response. I had assumed the room would be bustling with activity, but instead I find Trent alone, sipping from a glass of something that looks like scotch and leaning his forehead against the floor-to-ceiling window.
“Hey, man. Sorry I’m late.”
Trent turns around, startled. He relaxes a little when he sees me, but he still looks distracted.
“Oh. Don’t worry about it.” His voice is tight. I close the door behind me and cross the room towards him.
“You okay?”
He nods, but goes back to looking out the window.
“Where’s Luke? And the photographer? I thought you guys were doing photos.”
“I asked them to leave.”
An anxiousness starts to build in my gut. “Trent, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I’m getting married,” he says, without turning around.
“Yeah, you are.” I look down at my watch again. “In less than two hours.”
Trent finally turns around. His face is pale, his normal confidence nowhere to be seen.
“Am I really ready to do that?” he asks. The expression on his face is … I don’t know. I’ve never seen my brother like that before.
“What are you saying, Trent? Are you having second thoughts?”
He looks horrified. “God, no! I love Hannah. I just … What if I’m not ready? What if I’m not a good husband? What if … I don’t know.” He takes a long swallow of his scotch and shakes his head.
I walk over to the little table where the crystal decanter of scotch is sitting, and pour a double’s worth into one of the short vintage tumblers sitting there. I take a swig, not bothering to savor it, even though, knowing Trent, the damn bottle probably cost at least a couple of grand.
“Trent, look. We may not be that close anymore. Hell, sometimes I think I barely know you. But you’re also my brother, and I’ve known you for a hell of a long time. I also know what love looks like, and you love Hannah. Hannah loves you. All the rest of it is stuff you guys are going to figure out together.”
Trent looks at me, almost as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Do you really think so?” he says. “Do you think love is enough?”
Instead of giving him a platitude, I actually stop to think about his question. Is love enough? Is love enough to overcome the differences between two people? Is it enough to overcome all the mistakes, the lies, the false starts, the things left unsaid?
“I hope so, buddy. In fact, I’m kinda counting on it.”
Trent nods and sips his scotch. He’s already starting to look a little more calm than when I came in. We make our way over to a couple of wingback chairs in front of the window.
“You thinking about Celia?” Trent asks. He’s the one studying me now, and I take a steadying sip of the peaty alcohol.
“Thinking about a lot of things,” I admit.
“Can I ask you something, then?”
“Sure.”
He pauses for a second before speaking. “Why’d you lie, Jace? About having a fiancee? I didn’t care if you were with someone or not — I invited you to the wedding because I wanted you to be here.”
I grin. “I thought you invited me because Mom told you to.”
He chuckles. “Well, she may have given me the push I needed. She was always good at that.”
“Yes, she was.” I chuckle too.
“But I wanted you to be here. You know that, right? You’re my brother. It’s not right that we’ve let things go on this way for so long.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Trent and I aren’t exactly used to having heart-to-hearts, even though part of me’s glad that he’s finally bringing this up.
“I guess I just felt like a dumbass,” I admit. I look out the window so I don’t have to look at my brother. “It was hard living in the shadow of the two golden boys, especially after you guys started Loft & Barn — and then I went and fucked up that account and …”
“And I fired you,” Trent finishes.
“Yeah.”
“Jace, firing you was a huge mistake. I’ve always regretted it.” Trent takes a drink of his scotch and turns to look out the window too. “We were so on edge back then, Luke and I. We were trying so hard to get this business off the ground, and it felt like every single decision was going to make or break our success.
“When we lost that account, I panicked, and I took it out on the only person I could: you.” He shakes his head. “That was stupid, and I’m sorry. We should have tried to find a way to work it out together. Funny thing is, we actually ended up getting that client back a year or so later, and they screwed us out of all kinds of business. We ended up losing more money having them as a client.”
I have to laugh. “So what you’re saying is I did you a favor.”
Trent laughs too. “Yeah, I guess you did. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to get at here is that I hope we can put what happened back then behind us.”
I nod slowly. “I think we can. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I was such a fuck-up back then. You might regret firing me, but I can’t say I blame you. I shouldn’t have lied — though apparently that’s a lesson I’m still learning.” I grin ruefully and Trent chuckles.
