by Hilary Wynne
I walk around my desk and sit across from Julian. I’m doing my best to act nonchalant, but my pulse is racing and my hands are trembling a little.
“What brings you here, Julian?”
He’s staring at me with hardened eyes. He’s come here to ‘officially’ break-up with me, I’m sure. I can’t freaking believe he would do this at my work. That’s such a low blow. I literally brace myself for the words and grab the arms of my chair.
“We need to talk.”
I can’t help but laugh sarcastically. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to talk to him for a week.
“Did I say something funny?”
I’m not going to let him push my buttons. “I’m right here. What is it you’d like to talk about?”
“Yvette’s wedding.”
The wedding? Are you kidding me? We haven’t spoken in over a week and he wants to talk about this. It’s crazy. “And?”
“I thought we should talk about the plans. You’re going.”
He says it as a statement, not a question, so I say what I have to say factually, so as to not leave any doubt. “I don’t think so.”
Julian raises his eyebrows and a small hint of shock flashes across his face. “I’ll pick you up around three.”
“I guess you didn’t hear me. Not going.”
“You’re going to the wedding, Alexa.” His voice is authoritative and his expression determined. What the hell is he even thinking?
“Why are you being so adamant about it? You’re avoiding me, you haven’t even spoken to me in over a week, and you want me to go with you to a party with your entire family? Sounds like a great time, but I’ll pass.” I can’t hide my sarcasm. There is no way I’m going.
“To be honest, I don’t want you to go. But I also don’t want to deal with my family’s questions about where you are. My mom told everyone we were back together, and I don’t want any of our drama to ruin Yvette’s day.”
This just keeps getting worse. “So you don’t want me to go, but are basically forcing me to so you can save face? Thanks, but no thanks.” I may have just reached my limit here. I’m not going someplace with someone who can’t even look at me. I turn and look at my computer, anything to avoid his burning stare.
“Alexa.” His tone is cool and very serious. I cringe as I look up at him. “You go or we’re done.”
“Are you really threatening me? With what, Julian? Are you going to stop talking to me or refuse to take my calls? Are you going to pretend I’m not lying two feet away from you in your bed? Are you going to take another woman to the most special place we’ve ever been together? What does ‘done’ really mean, Julian, because I’m not really sure how you can be any more done than you’ve been.”
I’ve shocked him. He had no idea I knew about Kelsey being with him in Sanibel. I watch as his eyes soften. He feels bad. For a moment at least, until the hardness reappears. I hold his gaze as I wait for him to respond. He doesn’t say a word. I’m furious with him right now, but I’m also so relieved he’s actually talking to me. It’s pathetic, but I can’t help it. I’m so in love with this man. I fiddle with a pen on my desk in an attempt to look nonchalant. I don’t want this to be over so I’m not going to call his bluff. He’s so unlike the Julian I thought I knew, that I’m not convinced he won’t walk away for good. “Fine. I’ll meet you there?”
He dismisses that comment too. “The wedding starts at four. I’ll pick you up from your house at three. By the way, it’s formal attire. Thought you should know so you dress appropriately.”
Excuse me? Dress appropriately? Me? As if I don’t always dress appropriately. “Don’t worry, Julian. I’ll make sure to look appropriate.”
We sit there looking at each other for a few more minutes, the uncomfortable silence smothering us. He’s gripping the arms of the chair and it looks like he’s doing it to keep from bolting out of my office. This is so not us. I want to fly over the desk and hug him. I want this to be better. I want him to start forgiving me. I don’t want to go to this fucking wedding.
I can’t take it anymore. The look in his eyes is devastating to me. I need him to go before I burst out in tears. “Well, I need to get back to work so if we’re done for now, I’ll just see you at three tomorrow.”
“Bueno. I’ll see you at three.” And with that, Julian stands up and walks out. No kiss, no hug, no goodbye. No mention of the rehearsal dinner he’ll be attending tonight. Not even a smile.
I head right to Lauren’s office. She’s at her desk looking over some contracts. I sit down and tell her what just happened.
“That’s good, Lex. He wants you to go. He’s just saying that to make you mad and it worked. He wouldn’t ask you to go if he didn’t want you there. Who does that?”
“I’m telling you, he was serious. He can hardly look at me. It’s going to be fucking torture for me. Plus, I don’t have anything to wear now.”
“Now? Why? I thought you’d decided what to wear when he first asked.”
I shake my head at her like she just said the stupidest thing ever. “As if I’m going to wear just anything. He actually commented on how I dress which was just his way of being a dick, because we all know I always dress appropriately, and then some. I’m going to go spend some money and buy a kick ass dress and some kick ass new shoes, so even if I have a shitty time, I’ll look great.”
Lauren smiles thinly. “Maybe he just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Why do you think everything he says is meant to hurt you? That’s not who Julian is.”
“You haven’t met the new Julian. He isn’t quite as nice.”
Lauren rolls her eyes. My friends are so used to hearing and seeing the patient, nice Julian. They have yet to see the angry, bossy man, or the completely silent one I’ve been hanging out with lately. They don’t believe me. Oh well. “I don’t have time to argue with you about this. I have an outfit to buy. I’m going to take off a little early and go shopping. Are you cool holding down the fort for me?”
“Sure. It’s been slow anyway. Send me pictures.”
I check with Diego and he’s also fine with me leaving early. He tells me to have fun and he’ll see me Sunday. Shit, I forgot I had to work Sunday. It might be a rough day after a late Saturday night. But then again, I’ll probably be home early.
As I drive to Bal Harbour to go shopping, I debate how much I want to spend. I’ve made a lot of money since I started working at The Promenade, and I haven’t really spent any of it. I haven’t been shopping because I’ve been depressed, and honestly, I’m very good with my money despite my shoe addiction.
My “budget” is thrown out the window the minute I step in Neiman’s. There are so many beautiful dresses here. The saleswoman, Florentina, who helped me pick out the dress for the opening, is working and I’m thrilled to see her. I need someone’s opinion about how the dresses look on me. It’s hard to tell her what I’m looking for because I really don’t know. I want the dress to be sexy, but not too sexy. I don’t know if I want black or a bright color; I can’t decide if I want to stand out or blend in. I want to look good for Julian and he likes some skin and my boobs, so I want to take that into consideration. I know the guests at this wedding will be dressed to the nines and I absolutely want to fit in.
Florentina laughs at me when I explain my desires to her, and just starts bringing dresses over. For the next hour, I basically try on every dress in my size, which, by the way, is a size smaller than I usually wear. I finally end up with a floor-length black, crepe BCBGMAXAZRIA dress that fits both my budget and my body perfectly. The front is pretty low cut and skirts the line between flirty and risqué, and emphasizes my assets in the best way possible. There are angled seams on the top of the dress filled with delicate sheer lace inserts that give a slight peekaboo illusion. The back is low cut with two two-inch pieces of fabric down the middle forming a sexy keyhole silhouette. I love it, and Florentina agrees it’s a great choice. Now I just need to find shoes and some jewelry to mat
ch. I walk over to the shoe department, a place I’m very familiar with, and begin my search for the perfect pair. The dress was on sale and not too expensive, so I convince myself I can splurge on the shoes. I’m there for about five minutes when I spy the absolute perfect pair—black, Monique Lhuillier peep-toed stilettos. The whole front and sides are a sheer lace that matches my new dress like they were made for each other, and the back is a capped leather heel. They cost more than the dress did and I contemplate this purchase—for about five minutes—before I pull my credit card out and buy them. There’s no way I can pass them up. I decide to keep my jewelry simple and plan on asking my mom if I can borrow a classic pair of diamond studs and a tennis bracelet that would look fantastic. I call her as I’m getting into my car to see if she’s home. I need to stop by tonight. I won’t have time tomorrow because I need to get a mani/pedi and figure out what to do with my hair.
“Hi, Mom. I was thinking of coming by and wanted to make sure you were home.”
“Hi, stranger. Yes, we’re home. Your dad isn’t feeling well so we’re staying in tonight.”
Something about the way she says that makes my pulse speed up. “What’s the matter with Dad?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about.. He’s just feeling a little worn out lately. I keep telling him to slow down, but he still thinks he needs to work like he did when he was in his twenties.”
I laugh out loud. My dad is fifty-five. “Dad is young. I’d hardly say he needs to slow down.” I try and make light of the situation because something is whispering to me that there is more to this story. “Anyway, I’m on my way over. I’ll see you soon.”
I find my mom in the kitchen making some tea, and accept a mug when she hands it to me. I follow her into the living room and find my dad on the couch under a blanket watching the news. I bend down to kiss him and am shocked by how tired he looks. “What’s going on, Dad? And don’t say nothing. I’m no doctor, but I’m not blind. You look awful.”
My dad sits up and forces a smile at me. “Thanks, baby girl. It’s nice to see you too.”
“I’m serious, Dad. What’s going on?” I look back and forth between my parents and catch the looks they’re giving each other.
My dad pats the cushion beside him and I sit down next to him. I feel my anxiety kicking in. “I’ve been having some issues with my heart and it’s making me tired.”
I cut him off. “Stop talking to me like I’m a child. What’s wrong?” My panicked voice is ringing in my ears.
My dad squeezes my hand. “It seems I had a small heart attack and have the beginning stages of coronary artery disease, Lex. They’ve done all the tests and it looks like the best option right now is to put a stent in to alleviate some of the pressure. It’s called an angioplasty.”
Whoa! A small heart attack? What does that even mean? “But you’re healthy, Dad! You don’t smoke, you exercise. What caused this, and when, and why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sometimes all of that doesn’t matter. Your grandpa had the same issues. So does Uncle Rich. It’s most likely hereditary. And what that means is I’m going to have to have surgery for them to open up an artery that’s almost completely blocked before I have another heart attack.”
Oh my God. This is serious. It occurs to me at that moment that my grandpa died when he was in his early seventies from heart-related issues. I don’t want to think about that. “How long has this been going on?” I look at my mom, but she’s looking at the floor.
“I’ve been feeling very fatigued and not myself for about a month. I started having chest pains a few days ago, so I went to see someone. We didn’t want you to worry. You’ve had a lot on your plate and you didn’t need this too. I’ll be fine. The surgery is scheduled for Monday, and I’ll be home Tuesday.”
My dad sounds calm which keeps me from freaking out, but I can see on my mom’s face she’s worried. I ask all the questions I can think of, and when I’m satisfied that I know everything I can know, I exhale. Then the tears come. I reach over and hug my dad.
“I’m so sorry! I’m the worst daughter in the world. I haven’t been over here in forever and I don’t return mom’s calls. Please, please don’t keep things like this from me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you, Dad.” He hugs me tightly and lets me cry into his shoulder.
I spend the next hour lying on the couch with him. We don’t talk much, but just being here with him brings me comfort. He eventually starts to fall asleep, so my mom makes him go upstairs to bed. When she comes back down, I make her sit with me and I grill her about my dad’s health. She doesn’t offer up any new information, and I see how scared she is.
“He works too damn hard and is dealing with a lot of stress at the firm. This new building downtown has had so many problems, and he doesn’t sleep from the worry. He needs to slow down and he won’t listen to me.”
I start to tear up again when I see the wetness in my mom’s eyes. The members of my family are not criers. I used to not be a crier either, but now I cry all the damn time. I hate it. It really hurts to see my mom so upset, and I promise her I’ll be here for her no matter what. I make a mental note to tell Diego first thing tomorrow I need Monday and Tuesday off. There’s no way I’m not going to be at the hospital.
I want to change the subject so I tell my mom about the wedding and ask her if she’s okay with me borrowing her jewelry. She is, of course, and wants to see the dress. I get it from the car and try it on for her. When I walk out of the bathroom she looks upset. “What’s wrong?” I can’t imagine she doesn’t like the dress or shoes. I share my mom’s good taste in fashion.
“You’re so beautiful, Lexie. I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m okay, Mom.”
“No, you aren’t, honey. You’re in this gorgeous dress and to die for shoes, and all I can see is the sadness in your eyes. You may be able to fool other people, but not me.”
I can’t help but laugh sarcastically. “Oh, I can’t fool anyone. I’m a big, open, messy book.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
That’s a totally normal question for anyone else except my mom. She isn’t one to ever want to talk about unpleasant things, and because of that, we’ve all been trained to smile and keep our feelings to ourselves. It’s a skill I perfected with her years ago. I’m touched by her question.
I don’t want this moment to pass so, also acting out of character, I start to tell her about what has been going on with Julian. The crazy thing is once I start talking, I can’t stop. I tailor the conversation to be mom-appropriate, but I end up telling her all about the baby situation, all about Julian’s emotional hot and coldness toward me, and I even tell her about Luke and the aftermath I’m dealing with. I explain how I’m being forced to go to this wedding and how I just know it’s going to be a total disaster. She patiently listens to me go on and on about how fucked up my life is. I keep pausing in between sentences, waiting for her to jump in and offer her opinion, but she doesn’t. It unnerves me and when I’m finally done, I brace myself for what I’m sure is going to be a huge lecture.
“I’m sorry you’re going through all of this. It must be very uncomfortable and painful for you to deal with.”
Huh? Who is this woman in front of me? That was so not a Claire Reed response. I must look confused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I just told you a personal story you’d normally have to watch a Jerry Springer episode to see, and you respond like that? That’s not like you, Mom. Sorry, but you’re generally rather opinionated.”
“Would you prefer I tell you I think sleeping with Luke was a horrible idea? Or that I regret telling you to leave Julian when you found out about the baby? Or that I have no idea if it’ll all be okay?”
“Well, that might be a start.”
My mom picks up my hand and rubs her fingers across the top of it. She looks down for moment and then back up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’ll never know how badly you
were hurt or scarred by what happened with Brady, and I’m the last person to tell you how you should deal with all of this. I’ve been very fortunate to have lived a nice, calm, sheltered life where nothing really bad ever happened to me. I wanted that type of life for you and your sisters, but I’ve seen over the last year I have no control over what happens in your lives. I’ve seen it in the last month with your dad too. My heart is broken for you and for Jill, and I’m worried sick about your dad, but I’ve had to accept the fact you’re grown and need to find your own way. So I don’t have any advice, Lexie. I’m just here to listen if you need me to.”
I lean over and hug her as tightly as I can. The enormity of the moment is felt by both of us as she hugs me back just as tightly. I can’t remember the last time I felt this close to her and while I’m in her arms, enveloped in the smell of her perfume, I flash back to when I was a little girl and I allowed her to comfort me. It feels like so long ago. I have kept her at arm’s length for the better part of my life because I didn’t want to be judged and made to feel like I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t realize until this moment all I ever needed from her was this, a shoulder to cry on, and her willingness to listen without judgment.
“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, Lexie. So much. You’re stronger than I ever could’ve hoped you’d be and, though I don’t know much, I know you’ll be okay.”
As I pull back I see a smile cross her face. “By the way, that outfit looks amazing on you, and you’re going to bring that man to his knees when he sees you in it. Now tell me, what are you going to do with your hair?”
Chapter 17
With no alarm clock waking me up in the morning, I sleep until after ten. For a moment I forget I stayed over at my parents’ last night. I slept so soundly that I’m groggy as I wander into the kitchen. I find my parents sitting at the table eating breakfast, and I happily sit down with them after I’ve poured myself a cup of coffee. My mom made my favorite, French toast, and I eat several pieces. My dad looks a little better this morning and that helps calm my nerves.
