My Ex's Wedding: A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Annabelle Costa

  “Okay.” I reach out and put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m going in.”

  Doug winks at me. “Good luck.”

  I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob. I walk into the room, prepared to tell Alex exactly how I feel, before Isabelle can muck it up.

  Except when I walk inside, Isabelle’s arms are all over him.

  Chapter 43

  Alex

  It’s nice when Isabelle hugs me. Her perfume is familiar and her hair is soft against my cheek. For a split-second, I wonder if I’m making a mistake. I used to love Isabelle, and even though I don’t anymore, there’s a reason I felt that way.

  But every time I think of Nellie, I know I’m not making a mistake. I know it. If I’ve got any chance with that girl, I’m taking it.

  Except as Isabelle pulls away from me, I see the girl of my dreams standing in front of us, her brown eyes wide, her mouth hanging open.

  I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Isabelle and I were just hugging. Not kissing—hugging. People hug. Friends hug. Family hug. I could hug my grandma. Well, I couldn’t, but one could. Hugging is entirely innocent.

  But it’s obvious from Nellie’s face that she didn’t see this as an innocent hug.

  “Um…” Nellie’s cheeks are flaming red. “I, uh… I just needed to grab something and then I’m… I’m going out for a bit.”

  “Nellie, wait…” But I can barely get the words out before she rushes through the room, yanking the door open as the seams on her short shorts taunt me. Even as she’s walking out on me, she makes me want her.

  Isabelle had moved my control out of the way slightly when she hugged me. I have to strain at the strap on my chest, but this time I manage to grab it with my mouth. Thank God—I didn’t have to beg Isabelle for help with that. I puff into the control, but by the time I even get moving, the door has slammed shut. I bring my chair to a halt, staring at the door in front of me.

  Fucking doors. This is so goddamn frustrating. I want to slam my chair into it, but I suspect that will hurt the chair more than the door.

  “What happened here?”

  It’s Doug’s voice behind me. I back up and turn my chair around to look at him. Isabelle is sitting on one of the beds, her wedding dress splayed out around her, looking rattled. For the first time, I notice her eyes are red-rimmed.

  She gets to her feet. “I should go,” she murmurs.

  Before Doug can open his mouth to ask another question, Isabelle has fled the room, slamming the door behind her. It’s like déjà vu of what she did to me in rehab. I can’t blame her, but it’s yet another sign I did the right thing. When things get uncomfortable, Isabelle takes off.

  “Nellie walked in on us hugging,” I explain. “She just… I don’t know… freaked out. I don’t know why. I guess she thought…”

  “She thought something was going on between you and Isabelle?”

  I shake my head, realizing he’s right. “Can you open the door for me?”

  Doug frowns. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I need to talk to her.” I look up at my brother. “Open the door. Now. I’ve got to go find her.”

  He looks me up and down. “You’re in your underwear, you know.”

  Okay, he might have a point. I’m wearing an undershirt and boxers. The boxers are only just barely concealing the bag of urine strapped to my thigh. As much as I want to find Nellie, I’m not excited to be wheeling around the hotel like this.

  “I’ll get you dressed,” Doug says.

  “No, that will take forever.” I nod at the closet. “I think I saw some blankets in there. Just throw one of them on top of me.

  Doug sighs, but he obediently goes over to the closet and locates a blanket on the top shelf. It takes him another minute to drape the blanket over my legs and tuck it under my thighs so it doesn’t come loose the second I start moving.

  “All right,” Doug says when everything is secured. I’m still in my undershirt, but at least now I’m decent. “Let’s go.”

  I hesitate. “No. I want to find her myself.”

  “Jesus, Alex…”

  “I can do it,” I say through my teeth. “Doug, I’ve been in this chair for four years. I can manage around a hotel by myself. I’ve got my phone. I’ll be fine.”

  “But what if—”

  “Let me do this, Doug.” I look at him sharply. “Just open the door for me, okay?”

  I’m an adult man, but if Doug decides he doesn’t want me to chase down Nellie, he can physically stop me. I can’t get out of this room without his help and blessing. But I can see the worry on his face, and I don’t think he’s going to let me do it. I mean, it’s not like I’m not worried. A million things can go wrong if I’m all alone. But I still want to do this myself.

  “I’ll come with you to the lobby,” Doug says. “When we find her, I’ll disappear. I promise.”

  I glare at him. I can’t believe this shit. “Let me go.”

  Doug hesitates for another moment, but then reaches out, grabs the door handle, and swings it open. “Okay,” he says. “Go.”

  I frown at him, wondering if it’s a trick. “Go?”

  His face breaks out in a grin. “Yeah. Go get her, Alex.”

  I grin back, despite my nervousness. “Thanks.”

  I turn my chair, and puff to go through the door. At first, I’m sure Doug will follow me anyway. But he doesn’t. I wheel down the hallway all by myself, turning so that my hotel room is out of sight, and I move in the direction of the elevators.

  It feels odd to be alone these days. I’m never alone. I’ve always got someone with me—if not right beside me, at least in very close vicinity. It makes me edgy to not have that ready assistance but in a good way. I miss my independence. Sometimes I miss it so much it hurts. It feels good to know I can at least go out on my own again. That independent part of me is not entirely dead.

  And then I get to the elevator and realize I have no fucking way to press the button.

  I stare at the buttons: one for up and one for down. I have absolutely no way to press either one of them. Even if I had my stick with the mouthpiece, I wouldn’t be able to reach. I’m shit out of luck here.

  Now what?

  I can’t exactly go back to the room, explain to my brother that I need him to come with me to the elevator and hit the button for me, then leave me alone. Also, once I’m inside the elevator, I won’t be able to press the buttons in there either. And then there will undoubtedly be something else as soon as I get to the lobby that I’ll need Doug’s help for too.

  What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have come out here by myself. I had this grand idea about finding Nellie all on my own, but I just… can’t.

  I fucking can’t.

  Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s an elderly man, who’s got a cane in his other hand. He smiles at me, the wrinkles in his face deepening. “You need a hand, son?”

  I nod gratefully. “Down, please.”

  The old man hobbles over to the elevator. I bet I made him feel good about himself. He probably feels bad he can’t walk as well as he could when he was young, but I’d give anything to walk like he does.

  I’m careful when I get into the elevator. I know I have to steer in straight, or else I won’t be able to back out easily. But the old man is helping me the whole way. He holds the door open for me, so I don’t feel like I’m rushing to get inside. By the time I get down to the lobby, I’ve got some of my confidence back. As long as there are kind strangers around to help me, I can manage.

  “You need help with anything else, son?” the old man asks me when we get out at the lobby.

  “No, I’m good,” I tell him.

  I just need to find Nellie.

  But where is she? This hotel is huge. Gigantic. I wish I’d had Doug reset the controls on my chair so I could move a little faster than my usual pace, because the slowness of my chair is frustrating me right now. I want to dash around the hotel at full speed, but instead I’m moving
forward at “slow stroll.” I want to puff as hard as I can into the control and make it go warp speed, but I know that’s not going to happen. This is as fast as I can go, and I have to deal with it.

  The first place I think of is the casino. Nellie told me she went to play video poker when I was with Isabelle, so maybe that’s where she is now. Also, there are bars everywhere—she could be at any one of them. Or maybe she went to Coffee Bean. Or one of the other zillion restaurants in this hotel.

  Shit. I’m never going to find her. This was pointless.

  Except…

  That first day we arrived at the Venetian, Nellie got that excited look on her face when she saw the gondolas floating by. She wanted to ride—I could see it in her eyes. And she knows we’re going to leave today. Wouldn’t she want to get in a ride before we take off?

  Well, it’s as good a chance as any. It’s not like I can look everywhere.

  I follow the signs directing me to where people are boarding the gondolas. It’s all the way across the hotel, naturally. And because of all the water, the space for my chair to drive is fairly narrow.

  Faster. Go faster!

  After what feels like a million turns, I see it. The break in the railing where people are boarding the gondolas. Just the sight of it makes me nervous—I can just see my chair careening off the edge, falling into the water. And then I’ll really be screwed. But it’s worth it if I can find Nellie.

  Just when I’m about to lose hope, I see her. Standing all alone in the line to board the gondolas, behind a couple wearing matching Bermuda shorts. She looks so sexy in her tiny shorts and tank top. I wish I could run over to her and grab her in my arms. If it were Before, that’s what I would have done, but it’s off the table now. Instead, I move my wheelchair in her direction at its painfully slow speed, and when I’m close enough, I say, “Hey.”

  That’s my best move. Hey.

  Nellie whirls around. Her eyes widen when she sees me sitting there. And now I curse the fact that I didn’t spend an extra ten minutes allowing Doug to dress me, at least in a regular shirt. I hate that I’m in a stupid undershirt, which shows the bulge of my gut and my wasted arms. I hate that there’s a blanket covering my legs like I’m some elderly invalid. But if I’d taken those extra minutes, she might have been on the gondola by now.

  “Where’s Isabelle?” she asks. There’s a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe packing in her room? I don’t care.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you?”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t.”

  She rolls her eyes. A couple at the front of the line boards the gondola. Now there are two couples between us and my watery grave.

  “So the gondola, huh?” I say, forcing a smile. “Can I come?”

  She snorts. “I thought there was ‘no fucking way’ you were ever getting on one of those things.”

  “Well, I’d like to talk to you,” I say, “and if the only way is to get on a gondola, I guess I’ll have to make it work.”

  Nellie narrows her eyes at me. “Is that so?”

  “Sure.” I eye the gondola. Well, it would be a challenge, to say the least. But I would do it. For her. “If I have to.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “And Isabelle won’t mind?”

  “Isabelle was hugging me goodbye,” I say. “So I’d say it’s none of her business.”

  She shakes her head. “Do you expect me to believe that? I saw the way she was looking at you, Alex. She wanted to get back together, didn’t she?”

  I can’t lie to her. She’ll see right through me. “Yeah, she did.”

  “So.” Nellie shrugs. “Isn’t that what you wanted all along?”

  “No,” I say firmly. I look up at her, trying desperately to read her expression. “I don’t want Isabelle. I don’t love her anymore. The truth is, I don’t want anyone except this one girl who I just can’t get out of my head.”

  Nellie is quiet, like she’s not entirely sure what to say to that. Does she believe me? I hope so. Because another couple has just boarded a gondola. I really don’t want to get on that thing.

  “Hey, Nellie,” I say.

  She blinks a few times. “What?”

  “What’s your favorite pizza topping?”

  A smile twitches at her lips. “Mushrooms. How about you?”

  “Meatballs.”

  “I like meatballs too.” Her smile widens. “What’s your favorite color of Starburst?”

  “Would it be emasculating to say pink?”

  She shows her crooked incisor this time. “No, because pink is the right answer.”

  “Whew.” Another couple has boarded the gondola. We’re next. I’ve got to get out of this—quick. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

  “Scream, I think. How about you?”

  “I like the classics. Halloween.”

  “That’s a good one too.” She glances behind us, where nothing is separating us from the water. “Favorite mode of transportation?”

  I eye the waterways looming before us. “Honestly? Anything on dry land.”

  Nellie grins at me. “You know what mine is?”

  I cringe. “Gondola?”

  “Wheelchair,” she says.

  And she drops into my lap, her arms encircling my neck. Before I can even process that part, her lips are on mine and she’s kissing me. My heart is racing, not because I’m about to go on a boat ride, but because the girl of my dreams is kissing me. This kiss is incredible. I thought the kiss we shared yesterday was the best of my life, but this one might give me a heart attack.

  A few days ago, I barely knew Nellie, but now I can’t imagine life without her.

  That’s how it is with the right person. You just click immediately.

  “You wanna get out of here?” Nellie whispers in my ear.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to deprive you of the gondola ride.”

  She laughs. “Were you really going to get on a gondola?”

  “It was a game of chicken, that’s for sure.” I smile, loving the feel of her arms around my neck, her fingers brushing against my hair. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  The truth is, I would have gotten on a gondola for this girl if that’s what I had to do. I would fly to the moon for her if they let quadriplegics in space. Getting on a gondola? No problem.

  But for the record, I’m glad we’re heading back to my hotel room.

  Epilogue

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Nellie

  “What is the deal with handicapped bathrooms?”

  The audience titters at that one, but there aren’t any big laughs. Nobody wants to laugh outright at a joke about handicapped bathrooms. But I’m allowed to tell jokes about handicapped bathrooms—after all, my boyfriend is a quadriplegic. This is part of my life, for better or for worse.

  Alex is the only one who lets out a loud laugh that I can hear all the way on the stage. Even though he’s heard this routine several times before. He says it never gets old.

  “So my boyfriend is in a wheelchair,” I explain to the audience, “and you wouldn’t believe the stories he tells me.” I pause for effect. “Apparently, some people think the handicapped stall is the same as the luxury stall in the bathroom. Piss in the lap of luxury. Shit in seclusion. And oh yeah, take your time.” I shake my head. “Newsflash: it’s not a luxury stall. If it were, you’d be paying extra.”

  I go on to tell a couple of the stories Alex has shared with me over the last two months, giving them my own comedic flair. For a while after I got back to New York, I was still doing my bad date stories. But guess what? I haven’t been out on a bad date lately. And maybe I never will again. So it feels disingenuous to keep doing that routine. That’s why Alex helped me out with some stories—he owes me considering he stole my main source of material.

  I’m glad I’m getting laughs tonight. This isn’t any ordinary night. Tonight, Blake Howard is here.

  A few days ago
, Blake sent me an email, telling me he was in town and would be coming by to check out my act. And… here he is. In a small table in the left-hand corner. I thought I’d completely blown it when I dumped that drink over Parker’s head, but maybe not. I’ve still got a shot.

  Is Blake laughing? I can’t tell.

  God, I’m nervous.

  I get a healthy round of applause at the end of my routine. I don’t think I screwed up, but who knows? My hands are shaking when I get back to the table where Alex is waiting for me. He’s wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt that brings out the gray in his eyes. He looks so handsome as he smiles up at me.

  “You were great,” he says before I even sit down.

  I avoid looking at Blake’s table. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I would never.”

  Uh, he totally would. But that’s okay, because he’s hot. And an amazing kisser. And an all-around good guy.

  Alex and I have been officially dating ever since he talked me out of the gondola ride. It’s wonderful. Aside from his physical attributes, there’s something about us that just clicks. He “gets” me in a way no guy ever has before. On nights we don’t see each other, after his mother gets him into bed at night, he usually calls me and we talk for two or three hours. We never seem to run out of things to say to each other. And I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this desired by a man.

  I’m not going to lie—there are challenges. Considering I live in the city and he’s out on the island, even going on a date can be tricky since he can’t come here on his own. Either I schlep out to Mineola on the Long Island Railroad, or else his mother or father has to drive him here. Tonight I went out to the island to pick him up.

  Also, my current apartment building has no elevator and I’m on the third floor. So there is zero chance of him coming up there. And weirdly, his bedroom at home doesn’t have a door. He explained it’s because the wind used to keep making it slam shut, and then he’d be trapped. But regardless of the reason, it’s very difficult for us to get any privacy. Fortunately, his parents have been understanding and agreed to go out to dinner the times I came over so we could have the house to ourselves.