All I Need Is You aka Wedding Survivor

by Julia London

  All of a sudden she felt very foolish. “Sure.” She would have liked nothing better than to crawl beneath his truck and think a minute.

  “If you need me in the meantime for the wedding, just give me a call, okay?”

  “Right,” she said, looking everywhere but at him.

  “If you can’t get me, you can always get Cooper. He’s not going this time,” Eli added.

  Unfortunately, crawling beneath his truck was not an option. “Right, right,” Marnie said and slipped away from his hand, around the open truck door, and walked toward the front of the truck. “So,” she said, walking backward now. “Have a safe trip.”

  He perched his arm on the open truck door. “Marnie? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted loudly, and smiled to prove that she was. And she was. She’d had fabulous sex with a gorgeous guy she thought was unique and kind in a very unkind town. But that didn’t mean they had to suddenly change everything and start dating. They were adults. They’d had some fun. Now on with the show—she got it. She’d read the latest dating books going around. He just wasn’t that into her.

  “Okay,” he said, looking terribly unconvinced. “Behave while I’m gone, will you?”

  “Oh, Eli,” she said, and laughed, then waved, turned around, and jogged up to the front door. But she didn’t manage to get in before she heard her dad come out of the garage and say, “Is that you, Eli? Hey, how are you?”

  She didn’t look back, just walked in and shut the door, then stood there a minute, trying to catch her breath. She wasn’t exactly sure when her heart had started racing, but thought it was right around the moment he touched her face. Her mind was flooded with the feel of his hand on her body, and the intensity of that feeling surprised her. She closed her eyes.

  “Marnie? Are you going to stand at the door all day?” her mom called, and she realized, given the amount of secondhand smoke in the house, that the book club was meeting. She groaned softly, pushed away from the door, and walked to the door of the dining room, where the ladies were gathered.

  “Hi, honey,” Mom chirped.

  “Hi, Mom. Hi, everyone,” she said, waving lamely.

  “Oh, sweetie, you don’t look very happy,” Mrs. Farrino said.

  “No?”

  “No. It wouldn’t have anything to do with that hunk out there, would it?” she asked, and the others sniggered. Marnie glanced at the dining room window and realized they had seen the whole exchange.

  “Who, him?” She rolled her eyes and flicked her hand at the door. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hey, Marnie, what do you know about Jude Law?” Mrs. Campbell asked.

  “I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I have a good friend whose friend’s daughter went out with him and got the wham, bam, thank you ma’am from him.”

  “Honestly, Bev, are you still going on about that? Of course he did that to her. Did your friend’s friend think there would be wedding bells or something? These movie people move from one person to the next and they don’t look back,” said Mrs. Donaldson.

  “And I guess you know so much about it based on your own movie career, Alicia?” Mrs. Campbell shot back.

  “Am I wrong, Marnie?” Mrs. Donaldson insisted. “These Hollywood types go through sex partners like water unless they land some huge superstar. Am I right?”

  “I, ah…honestly, Mrs. Donaldson, I don’t know,” Marnie insisted as her stomach slid down to her toes. “And I really don’t know anything about Jude Law.” But she did know about Eli. She knew right that very moment that it had just happened to her. Of course that was what happened to her. Eli had probably slept with more starlets and makeup girls than he could probably count any longer, and here she was, stupid little wedding planner, thinking it could actually turn into something more.

  In the moment of her epiphany, she dropped her purse.

  “Marnie, what is the matter with you?” Mom asked when her lipstick came rolling across the floor.

  “Nothing, Mom,” she said and bent to pick it up.

  They flew out on the company plane, Jack at the helm and Michael as co-pilot. That left Eli in the back, presumably with a script to read, and in the hopes of actually accomplishing something, it was on his lap. But he wasn’t reading the script. How could he? Marnie’s smiling face kept dancing before his eyes.

  He sighed, rubbed his eyes, then tried to focus on the script again.

  No use. He couldn’t stop thinking about how disappointed she’d been when he’d left. Damn it, this was exactly what happened when you let your guard down and slept with good-looking women. There were suddenly too many expectations, too many rules popping up like prairie dogs all around you.

  Okay, right, there were too many expectations, but if he was honest, he’d admit he hadn’t felt quite like this since Trish. But even still, this wasn’t the same as it had been with Trish, not by a long shot. With Trish, there’d been a physical thing going on—he’d felt like he’d been hit with a two-by-four the first time he’d clapped eyes on her. It had started off as an instant, gotta-get-in-her-pants thing. Clicking with her afterward had been the icing on the cake.

  Or so he’d thought. Apparently, he had been doing more clicking than Trish.

  With Marnie, it was something that had started inside him and had worked its way up to the physical. And that was not to say that he hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed their little romp. Nope, it had been pretty spectacular when he thought about it. Which he did quite often. But in the beginning, he’d thought she was a fine-looking woman—but it hadn’t been the two-by-four-between-the-eyes good-looking. His physical attraction to her had grown over time. And then wham. Right in the sack.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  What was he going to do with her now? Women, for the most part, could not do a one-time shot, he knew from experience. And while he’d enjoyed their romp, he was not ready for a relationship. There were still days he couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like a putz. That putz feeling had been joined by an equally bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was not the right thing to do, that it would end badly.

  There were only two ways this could go—if it was great with Marnie, then eventually she’d want something more permanent. She was a wedding planner, for chrissakes. But he could not go there. He’d gotten the universal cosmic sign that long-term relationships and marriage were not his thing.

  That left this thing with Marnie going south, and it could go south in a heartbeat. They might even have a few fun times before it went south, but then one of them would piss the other off, and really, he was not in a position to risk potentially the biggest gig of TA’s existence because he’d left his dirty socks on her floor or something like that. No, ethically, he really couldn’t go there.

  There was nothing to be done for it. He felt himself shrinking up, turning into a tight little ball, and he knew that he had to go back to LA and tell that very attractive, vibrant, and funny woman that they’d had a fling, but that was all there was to it.

  He was not looking forward to it in the least, and he made a mental note that crap like this was a very good reason why he should keep his pants zipped.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Olivia was seriously starting to drive Marnie nuts. She called several times a day, almost always in a crisis, and almost always in her Wonder Girl suit. “Can you come to the set?” she’d beg.

  Today she had called between scenes to say, “I just don’t think the starlight thing is going to work.”

  Yeah, well, the starlight thing had to work. They’d ordered linens and crystal and Olivia had insisted on buying all those Baccarat crystal bowls in which they intended to float the star candles. Marnie had spent hours working with a floral designer and stage manager to learn how to suspend hundreds of white rosebuds from the top of the black reception pavilion ceiling to simulate stars. How could it not work?

  So Marnie had driven to the set and a
rgued with the security guy for thirty minutes—again—until he finally consented to call Olivia (and the fact that Olivia or Lucy, for chrissakes, couldn’t leave Marnie’s name at the goddamn gate was really beginning to annoy her).

  Predictably, Olivia was in the trailer with Lucy, the assistant who did very little assisting as far as Marnie could see.

  “I just think it’s been done to death,” Olivia said as she lay with a cloth over her eyes between takes. “My second cousin Irene just did starlight.”

  “But she didn’t do starlight like you’re going to do starlight. Think of the canopy of hundreds of tiny little stars that are actually rosebuds. How cool is that?” Marnie tried.

  “Yeah, you’re right…but Irene will think I am copying her.”

  “Is she invited?”

  “No.”

  “Then she won’t know.”

  “How can she not know? The press will be all over it.”

  “No, no, Olivia, no they won’t. Remember—that’s why you hired Thrillseekers Anonymous. Your privacy is pretty much guaranteed.”

  Olivia considered that for a moment. “I guess you’re right. Okay. We can do starlight. But I’ll tell you the truth, Marnie—I’m starting to have a bad feeling about this whole thing.”

  “Pre-wedding jitters,” Marnie said confidently. “Everyone gets them. You’ll be fine. You’re going to spend a week with Vince in the rugged beauty of the Colorado mountains, and then you are going to marry him under an arch and the stars. It will be gorgeous.”

  “It will be gorgeous, won’t it?” Olivia asked hopefully. “What do you think, Lucy?”

  Lucy turned a stunned look to Marnie, then to Olivia. “I guess it sounds okay.”

  Marnie frowned at Lucy. Lucy shrugged and went back to studying her phone. She was always studying her phone or her iPad. Marnie was beginning to suspect it was secretly a mirror.

  “Well,” Olivia said, lightening up a little. “If Lucy likes it, I guess I’m all right with it.”

  If Lucy likes it? The same woman Olivia refused to give even the time of day?

  “That’s great,” Marnie said and stood. “So I need to run. I’ve got to work on getting the roses into the US Is there anything else?”

  “Just one more thing,” Olivia said. “I changed my mind about the music. Pop seems so…unweddingish. I think jazz would be good. Do you think jazz would be good?”

  Marnie gripped her purse so tightly that her fingernails sunk into the leather. But she forced a smile to her face. “Did Irene have a jazz band?”

  Olivia wrinkled her brow. “No. I think it was a rock band.”

  “Then I think jazz would be terrific. One jazz band, coming up,” she said jauntily as she inched toward the door. “I’ll speak with you later, okay?”

  “Oh, Marnie,” Olivia said. “I want to go see my spiritual advisor later after I’m done here for the day. Will you ride along? I was hoping we could chat about the bar. I’ve been thinking, and I’m not really comfortable with the wine selection.”

  She was never going to make it as a wedding planner to the stars. Never. If all of them changed their mind this much, she’d have to get a rope, string it from the crane they had outside to fly WonderGirl around, and jump.

  “Marnie?”

  “Sure. Just give me a ring when you’re ready,” she said, and grabbed the trailer door and pushed it open before she exploded. “Bye!” she called, but she was already out the door.

  She marched to her car, threw her purse in, revved the engine, and tore off the studio lot. What had ever possessed her to be a wedding planner? If she ever got to have her own wedding, it was going to be so simple—a potential husband, a potential pastor, and some really great shoes. Period.

  Her cell phone rang; with a grimace, she picked it up, punched the little phone icon, and said, “Did you forget something?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Eli. Marnie’s heart jumped up a notch, and she yanked the wheel into the commissary parking lot to talk. “Hey! How was the kite surfing?”

  “Fabulous. It’s the only way to go. Hurricane-force winds can really give you some loft.”

  She tried to picture him surfing wind but could only see him in chaps.

  “So what’s going on at wedding central?”

  “Well,” she said cheerfully, “Olivia has changed her mind about a number of things, like the theme, and the music, and the food. But she hasn’t changed her mind about the flowers, God no—she still wants thirty thousand white roses from Holland flown in. But hey, I have found a supplier in Amsterdam who will make it happen.”

  “Wow, that’s really great. Personally, I’m happy for all the people of Holland—it will probably boost their GNP by a thousand percent.”

  Marnie laughed.

  “So…listen, we were going to have a couple drinks, weren’t we?”

  “Yes, we were,” she said, grinning broadly.

  “I know it’s short notice, but how about tonight?”

  “Tonight would be great,” she said, and she meant it.

  “I’ll pick you up around eight, then,” he said.

  “Great. I can’t—” Whoa. She almost said, “can’t wait to see you,” but caught herself just in the nick of time.

  “Pardon?”

  “Can’t get away before then, but eight will be fine.”

  “Cool. See you then,” he said, and hung up.

  Marnie closed her phone. “Dude. What the hell was that about?” she asked herself and drove on, picturing Eli with his spurs on, kite surfing. Except that he looked sort of stupid doing that, so she switched gears to how in the hell she was going to find a famous jazz band on such short notice.

  Several hours later, Marnie knew a moment of panic when Olivia’s limo driver dropped her off and she saw Eli’s truck in her parents’ drive. She’d thought she’d be back by seven, but noooo, Olivia had to have a private treatment with Ari, the spiritual guru who boinked movie stars in the backroom of his salon.

  “Little Sunshine,” he said to Marnie when he’d finished gazing meaningfully into Olivia’s eyes. “You seem, like, really stressed out.”

  “Do I?” she asked, feeling very self-conscious. Ari had some pretty sharp eyes for a spiritual dude. And an excellent memory.

  “Little Sunshine, you do not understand that rhythm is the basis for life—not forward progress.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? But she said only, “Oh,” as she was not, fortunately, dumb enough to encourage him. And besides, Olivia was tugging at his siesta shirt. “Ari, come on. I’m in a hurry.”

  Olivia was not in too big a hurry as it turned out. By the time she’d finished getting a pike of spirituality pumped into her, it was already seven o’clock, and then they were stuck in traffic on the way back to Marnie’s, which gave Olivia plenty of time to review the wine list in great detail. All California wines were to be served, she’d decided. Nothing French. Cool, Marnie thought. That would make it easier. But then Olivia said, “But maybe some Chilean. But if I serve Chilean wine, then I’ll have to include some Australian and Italian, don’t you think? And so what is the purpose of not serving French in that case? Maybe I should go only French,” she said, and put a finger to her lips, tapping thoughtfully.

  It was enough to make Marnie’s head pound, but by the time they arrived at her house, they had come all the way around to Californian, because Marnie had insisted it was the thing to do, seeing as how she and Vince were from California.

  “Well, he’s actually Canadian, but no one knows that,” she informed Marnie.

  “Canadian. Great. So listen, you won’t change your mind, will you, Olivia?” Marnie asked. “We’re sort of running out of time to get all this together.”

  “I won’t,” Olivia said, crossing her heart, then suddenly lunged across the back seat and hugged Marnie tightly. “You’re so good to me, Marnie. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  “Really?” Marnie asked with a grin.
“Thanks.” She got out and leaned down to say good-bye, but Olivia’s brow was furrowed. “You know what? I didn’t think we should serve German or Spanish wines. Should we? Oh Jesus, this is just too hard! Look, I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”

  Marnie’s smile froze. “Okey-doke! Okay. Just…let me know,” she said, and with a little wave, she shut the door with a little too much force and watched the limo drive away. “You better let me know by the end of the week, girlfriend,” she muttered. “Whatever happened to ‘I’m not a wedding person?’” she added in a mocking voice. With a sigh, she turned around—and saw Eli and her dad walk out of the garage together.

  Eli was holding a power saw and her dad had a piece of wood shaped like an S.

  “Hi!” she called, walking up the drive. Maybe it was her silly imagination, but it seemed to Marnie that when Eli looked up and saw her, a warm, gut-tingling smile instantly spread his lips and ended in two deep dimples. Marnie felt herself smile back. Except hers, she feared, was big and dopey.

  “Hi, honey,” her dad said when they met in front of Eli’s truck on the drive. He was a full head shorter than Eli and looked half his size. “Eli was helping me with a project. He really knows his way around the power tools.”

  Eli winked at Marnie as he walked past her to put the saw thing into the big steel storage chest in the bed of his truck.

  “Well, I guess I better get back to work and let you two go do whatever you’re going to do. Thanks for your help, Eli,” Dad said.

  “No problem, Bob.”

  Bob? Dad patted Marnie’s arm. “See you, sweetheart,” he said, and turned and walked up the drive to the detached garage.

  She waited until her dad had disappeared into the garage and said, “Thanks for helping…Bob.”

  “No problem. We had a good time cutting stuff open.”

  “I can only imagine. So listen, I’m just going to run in and freshen—”

  “Mar-neeee!”

  “Oh God,” she said, and closed her eyes, buckled her knees, and swayed backward as she let out a couple of fake, but dramatic, sobs. “I can’t take Mrs. Farrino right now!”