All I Need Is You aka Wedding Survivor

by Julia London

  “Eli!” she exclaimed. “Have you come back from your trip? Where did you go again, Spain?”

  “Ah, Brazil,” he said. “I was, ah…hoping to catch Marnie.”

  “Good luck with that. Personally, since she moved out, I can’t get her on the phone to save my life. Either she sees it is her mother calling and won’t pick up the phone, or she is very busy with her life.” Mrs. Banks sniffed. “I prefer to think she’s very busy.”

  “She moved?” Eli asked dumbly. The thought had never occurred to him. He had gone on with his dreams of her, assuming she was exactly where he’d left her. Home. With Mr. and Mrs. Banks. In that room with clothes and magazines all over the floor.

  “Van Nuys,” Mrs. Banks said with disdain in her voice. “And not a very nice part of Van Nuys. I wanted her to stay here until she’d done a couple more weddings and could afford a better place, but what do I know? She had to go, and got out of here like the place was on fire.”

  “Oh,” Eli said, his mind trying to absorb what Marnie’s mother was telling him. She’d gone. Getting out like there was a fire.

  “She’s so strong willed, you know, and she always has been, even when she was a baby. If that little squirt wanted something, by God, she’d cry and rant until she got it. Until she could walk, of course, and then she just went and got what she wanted and couldn’t care less if she got in trouble for it. So she decided she could get more business where there was a younger crowd and packed up all her things and moved to Van Nuys. Wouldn’t even let us help her move. That’s just pure stubborn for you.”

  “Do you have a number where I could reach her?”

  “Oh, I have a number, but I doubt it will do you any good, Eli. She’s impossible to reach. Three weddings, I think she said the last time we talked. That’s a lot of weddings for one person to pay attention to, if you ask me. I told her I thought she should hire an assistant, maybe an apprentice like she used to be, but she told me she couldn’t afford it, and of course, she probably can’t, not with the weddings she’s picked up, but if she tried to do more like the-one-that-didn’t-happen-you-know-who-I-mean, she could afford an apprentice and a nicer place. But then she—”

  “Mrs. Banks?” Eli gently interrupted.

  “Huh? What?” she said, a little irritated that he had disrupted her train of thought.

  “Do you have a number where I might leave a message?”

  “Oh! Of course. Do you have a pencil?”

  “Yes,” he said, and wrote down the number Mrs. Banks gave him. “Thanks,” he said when she’d finished. “I’ll give her a ring.”

  “Oh, Eli. When you come back to LA you must—Oh, hi, Linda!” she said suddenly to someone else. “Come on in. I’m talking to Eli…Eli. Oh for God’s sake, Linda. Eli! Marnie’s hot friend.”

  Eli put his hand to his forehead and rubbed.

  “Can you believe her?” Mrs. Banks muttered into the phone. “She’s asked Marnie about you at least a dozen times, then tries to act like she doesn’t know who you are.”

  “Thanks for the number, Mrs. Banks. I’ll give it a try. Give my regards to Mr. Banks, will you?”

  “Of course I will, sugar! You come by as soon as you can, all right?”

  “All right,” he said, and clicked off, rubbed his temples for a moment. Nice lady, but man.

  He glanced at the number Mrs. Banks had given him and dialed. It took forever to connect, and when it did, his heart hammered with each ring of the phone, anticipating her bubbly voice.

  He got the answering machine. “Hi, this is Marnie Banks of Sophisticate Soirée, your complete wedding design and coordination services. I am with a client right now, so please leave your name and number and the proposed date of your event, and I will return your call promptly.”

  “Ah…hey, Marnie,” he said when he heard the beep, and felt his tongue grow thick in his head and grimaced at his ineptitude. “Ah…I’m in New Zealand, but I’m coming back to LA in a couple days and I was hoping maybe we could get together.” He paused there, uncertain what else to say. “If you’re up for it, why don’t you give me a call on my cell. Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and hung up.

  “I guess I’ll talk to you later?” he repeated aloud, shaking his head. “Jesus, McCain, how lame can you be?” he muttered, and turned off the light and tried to get some sleep.

  He was not very successful, however, with the myriad of thoughts roaming his mind, and the next day was even worse. He expected his cell to ring, thought the call would come any minute. And it did ring, plenty of times—people in New Zealand. The guys back home. Even Isabella called, asking when he’d come to Escondido again so he could see her new puppy.

  But never Marnie.

  He slept badly another night and woke around four, unable to sleep. He called her again. He got her answering machine again. It would be about nine o’clock yesterday morning in LA, and he felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d dicked around with his feelings way too long and had lost his opportunity. “Hey coppertop,” he said quietly into the phone. “I’ll be back in LA at the end of the week and I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you. Would you give me a call?” He paused, then added softly, “I’d love to hear from you.”

  Not able to think of anything else that didn’t sound pathetic or stupid, he clicked off.

  He did not hear from Marnie before he left New Zealand.

  When Marnie heard his voice on her answering machine, it stunned her. She hadn’t forgotten the rich resonance of it, but she had forgotten the way it trickled down her spine and lit her up. She sank onto a bar stool next to her phone and hit the play button again. And again. And twice more before she realized how pathetic she was, clinging to a stupid voice mail, and deleted it.

  Eli’d had his chance. She wasn’t going to fall into his arms again, no sir, because every time she did, she fell hard and then he went running just as hard in the opposite direction. So she’d had the most incredible experience with a man she’d ever had in her life, and she’d have given anything for it to continue, but obviously, Eli did not feel the same about her. If he did, he would have called or written her. Something. Anything.

  He probably needed a ride from the airport. Loser.

  When she received the second message, she laughed derisively. Oh sure, he wanted to talk to her—he was probably hard up after being in some remote New Zealand place with nothing around but a lot of goats. He should have introduced himself to a goat while he had the opportunity.

  Marnie made herself forget him and went on with the plans for Emily Buckholtz’s wedding. It wasn’t easy to forget him, either—she had to keep doing it, over and over again. She had to keep busy, to stay on the phone or otherwise engaged, lest she slip back into the old pattern of thinking about him, waiting for the next sound of his voice, hoping against all odds that he would love her as she loved him. But that was a stupid, futile hope and she wouldn’t risk feeling it again because it hurt too badly.

  So she kept busy.

  So good was she in her defense that she was caught off guard when she burst through the door of her apartment a couple of nights later to catch the phone before it stopped ringing and heard his voice, live and in person, on the other end.

  “Marnie,” he said.

  Her name on his lips flowed over her like silk, and she said nothing, just dropped her planning book and purse with a thud to the floor at her feet. “Hey,” she croaked at last.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you,” he said with a bit of a chuckle. “You’re a hard woman to reach.”

  No, she wouldn’t be so easily drawn in. “Am I?” she asked coolly, having regained her composure. “I hadn’t noticed.” She gripped the edge of her Formica bar, gripped it so hard that there was no danger she’d pass out with surprise or a sudden raging desire to see him.

  “Yeah, well…you are,” he said. “I guess I have it coming, huh?”

  She said nothing. Let him do the talking
for once.

  “I, ah…I ended up in New Zealand,” he said.

  “So I heard.”

  “Right,” he said quietly. “I was gone a little longer than I had intended.”

  The man was an absolute master at understating the obvious. “Huh,” she said, gripping the Formica bar even harder.

  “Look, coppertop,” he said in a way that made her knees weak, “I should have called you earlier, but…but life got away from me, and I, ah…well, I—”

  “Is there something you wanted, Eli?” she asked politely, as the burn of indignation began to creep up her neck. Should have called earlier? Should have? Of course he should have, the moron, but even worse, he should have wanted to call her!

  “I’d like to see you, Marnie,” he said. “I just landed in LA—I haven’t even left the airport, but I was hoping I could see you and explain—”

  “You know, I’m really booked up for the next few days. I’ve got a wedding next week, and there’s so much that has to be done before then. I think this couple is actually going to go through with it, and since I couldn’t just order up everything they need like the last time, I’ve had to do a lot more legwork, so I really don’t think I have time for chitchat,” she said peevishly, unwilling to hear yet another explanation of why he had failed to hold up his end of this relationship. Such that it was. Not a relationship, exactly. But something.

  “I see,” he said, disappointment in his voice. “I didn’t really have chitchat in mind. But hey, if you’re busy, you’re busy.” It seemed like a blast of cold air had suddenly hit the line, and she could just see the cowboy rearing his horse back, holding tight to his saddle.

  “That’s right,” Marnie said smugly. “No time for chitchat or whatever else it is you might want to do. If you have a question about that disaster of a wedding, please, ask away. But if not, I’ve really moved on and need to get to some other stuff just now.”

  That was met with stony silence on the other end of the line. “No,” he said at last. “No, I don’t have any questions.”

  Marnie’s heart sank a little. “Great,” she said cheerfully. “Welcome back to the States, then. I’ll…see you. Whatever,” she said, and clicked off.

  She dropped the phone and glared at it. She was supposed to feel victorious. Vindicated. Avenged for his poor treatment of her. But she didn’t feel any of that. She felt mean. And a little heartless. And maybe…just a little foolish. He had sounded sweet and possibly even a little regretful at first.

  “Bullshit,” she said aloud, thoroughly disgusted with herself. “He probably wanted a roll in the hay, and then he’ll freak out again, and guess who will be left holding the bag? No thanks,” she said firmly. And besides, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Tonight she was going to shop for table decorations, and she really didn’t need him clouding her mind.

  And it was so not him clouding her mind when she couldn’t find her keys. Or when she left her purse in her apartment. And it damn sure wasn’t him that made her toss and turn all goddamn night, hell no. It was just a bad case of insomnia. A newly developed, she’d-never-had-in-her-life case of insomnia.

  It took a week of solid work in LA before the sting of Eli’s foolish hopes for love had worn off, and he was beginning to feel like his old self again. In fact, he was feeling so much like himself that he made a trip to Escondido to see Isabella, then sat in on a couple of meetings they had with DreamWorks for Graham’s Crossing. Afterward, he spent some time with Cooper working up some stunt plans.

  Yep, Eli McCain was back to normal—he’d retreated back into that comfortable place he knew, where nothing touched him and he touched no one. He just thanked God he hadn’t made more of a fool of himself with Marnie, and that mercifully, he’d been stopped in his big plans to declare undying devotion to a woman again.

  Oh yeah, he was feeling much better.

  At least he was until one afternoon about a week after he’d been home. He was at the TA office, sitting on the cowhide recliner they all coveted, his boots up and crossed, tossing a baseball into the air and talking movies when Jack mentioned Marnie.

  Eli missed the baseball and it crashed to the pine floors, bouncing up and knocking a coffee cup off the end table. Coffee went splashing all over the chair. “Shit!” Eli snapped and instantly jumped up, headed for the little kitchen for a rag.

  “Damn,” Jack said with a sideways grin. “That got quite a response.”

  “What did?” Eli asked irritably as he tried to sponge up the coffee stains.

  “Marnie did. I guess she wasn’t the only one who had a thing, huh?”

  Eli stopped what he was doing and glanced over his shoulder at Jack. “What?”

  “She’s not the only one who had a thing,” he articulated clearly.

  Eli slowly straightened. “What do you mean, a thing?”

  Jack laughed. “Look, Marnie stopped by while you were gone and she seemed plenty upset that you’d gone to New Zealand without calling her. Actually,” he said, looking thoughtfully at Eli, “she seemed plenty upset that you’d gone to Brazil without calling her. I’m gonna walk out on a limb here and say that I think the girl was expecting a call.”

  Eli blinked, uncertain what to make of that. “I, ah…” Hell, he didn’t know what to make of it, and absently scratched his five o’clock shadow.

  Jack snorted at Eli’s obvious confusion. “Dude. What’s the matter with you? You used to be quite the ladies’ man, right? Do I have to tell you that you should have called her if you like her? She was royally pissed.”

  “She was?” Eli asked, wincing lightly.

  “Totally,” Jack said with an adamant nod. “And I guess I have to tell you that if you do want her, and you didn’t call when you were supposed to, that now you’re going to have to grovel, aren’t I?”

  “Grovel,” Eli repeated dumbly, his mind already racing ahead to just how low he’d have to go in and grovel, and being, astonishingly, perfectly willing to do it. Frankly, he thought he’d do just about anything to see her smile again and wanted to kiss Jack for giving him an excuse.

  “Grovel,” Jack said, a little louder. “Shit, don’t tell me one bad relationship and everything you ever knew about women suddenly flies out that birdcage of a head you’ve got. Grovel, as in, slither in and beg for mercy. But most important,” Jack said with a grin, “don’t take no for an answer. Pull out the big guns if you have to. Flowers, dinner…you know the score.”

  Eli glanced up at Jack and smiled for the first time since coming back to LA “I haven’t forgotten that part,” he said with a wink, and tossed the rag at Jack. “Clean that up for me, will you? I’ve got some groveling to do.” And he strode out of the TA offices on his way to grovel like he’d never groveled before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Since Marnie wouldn’t pick up the goddamn phone, Eli had to bite the bullet and pay a call to the Banks house in Hancock Park. He went early Saturday morning with the hope of avoiding the book club, but he had apparently miscalculated, judging by the look of things—there were five women, five steaming mugs, and a single book on the table.

  They ambushed him at the door.

  The dark-haired one—Mrs. Farrino, he remembered—tugged on her T-shirt to pull it down just a smidge farther to expose more of her overexposed cleavage.

  Mrs. Banks was holding the door open for him. “Come in, come in, stranger!” she cried as Bingo came bounding out, his tongue flapping, to jump up and greet Eli with great enthusiasm, leaving dusty pawprints on his trousers. “Oh my, don’t you look nice and tanned and…” Mrs. Banks let her gaze sweep the length of him as he tried to get Bingo off. “Hubba hubba,” she said with a wink.

  “Hello, Mrs. Banks. And thanks. I think.”

  “Oh my, it’s so good to see you, Eli,” she said, beaming, and grabbed hold of his hand, yanking him inside. “Look what I’ve got!” she trilled to her pals.

  “Ooh,” they all trilled back in unison as Bingo trotted off to have a s
niff of the shrubbery. “If it isn’t that cute young thang Marnie likes to play with,” said one with a coy little wink.

  “Marnie, hell,” Mrs. Farrino said, eyeing him unabashedly. “She moved out. He’s fair game. Eli, you look like you’ve been in the sun. Skinny dipping?”

  “Oh, Linda! Don’t scare him off!” Mrs. Banks scoffed. “Come in, Eli, and tell us all about your trip to Spain,” she said, bustling him deeper into the dining room.

  “Brazil,” he kindly corrected her.

  “Ooh, did you go to Mardi Gras?” the dyed blonde asked. “I always wanted to go to Mardi Gras. Did you go with anyone famous?”

  “Ah…no,” he said, nodding politely. “I think Mardi Gras happens earlier in the year. And I was not with anyone famous.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking slightly disappointed, then shrugged and picked up her coffee cup.

  “Coffee, Eli?” Mrs. Banks asked.

  “No thanks,” he said, quickly putting up a hand, which did not stop Mrs. Farrino from pouring a cup and holding up a package of artificial sweetener to her bosom. “Sugar?” she asked with a throaty growl.

  “Thanks, but I’m in a rush,” he said. “I just stopped by to see if you could tell me how to get hold of Marnie.”

  “Oh, that girl,” Mrs. Banks said with a roll of her eyes. “I can give you her address, but you won’t find her there. She’s never home. I swear, she is a little social butterfly, just flitting from place to place,” Mrs. Banks said, wiggling her fingers to indicate Marnie’s flit.

  “Really?” the blond one asked, perking up. “Is she seeing anyone cute or famous?”

  “Who knows if he is cute or famous?” Mrs. Farrino scoffed. “She sure won’t bring him around here—I told you she’s afraid of us.”

  “She’s not afraid of us, Linda,” Mrs. Banks scoffed. “You may scare that poor UPS man half to death, but Marnie is not afraid of you.”

  “Are you kidding? Older women are all the rage right now. If I were her age, I’d be scared to death to bring my boyfriend around someone like me,” Mrs. Farrino said, stabbing her very long nail to the table for emphasis.