Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  “We . . .” I sigh. The situation and the lies are draining me. “I got talked into helping her out with a personal issue, and as strange as it may sound, that involved pretending we’re dating.”

  “That doesn’t sound like any good can come of it. Helping a friend is a good thing. Lying, not so much.” She tilts her head to the side. “What about Tealey? Does she know the truth?”

  “She knows the truth.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to think there was cheating involved.”

  I stand in disbelief.

  “Mom, you know me. I wouldn’t cheat. I’m not that man and never will be.”

  She rubs my shoulder. Pride and empathy shine a light in her eyes as she dotes on me. “I know. I shouldn’t have made you feel I didn’t. I wasn’t questioning your character. I was making sure things haven’t been misconstrued when it comes to how Tealey feels about this fake dating business. Does she know how you feel about her?”

  I haven’t told her how my heart seems to only beat for her. And as much as I should feel ten pounds lighter for settling Bob’s case, I’m worried about Tealey and the toll this scheme with Marlow will take on our relationship. This morning at the beach was the final push I never saw coming. Instead of feeling good about what I’ve accomplished, I’m left feeling ashamed of what I’ve done. “Not in so many words.”

  “In any words?” She grins, already knowing the answer.

  “Not exactly.”

  She pats my arm. “Think about filling her in on your feelings. You might be surprised by her reaction.”

  “I like her . . . I love her, Mom.”

  The words come staggering out, refusing to be hidden any longer. It feels strange to say them out loud, but not wrong in any way. I don’t know how I expected to feel, but it wasn’t conflicted. None of my feelings for Tealey are conflicting, but the situation with Marlow I’ve involved myself in is a direct contradiction.

  She walks around me, keeping the tips of her fingers tethered to the wood. “I know, son. Make sure she does too. Honesty in actions and words mean everything.”

  Turning to go, she stops. She faces me again, shaking her head in pure amusement. “Oh, and I about spit out my water when I heard Cammie say you were showing Tealey your ‘movie collection.’ Your code words need more originality. Nobody owns DVDs or videotapes anymore. Streaming is the way to go.”

  I chuckle, thinking about how much she and Tealey are alike and then how the differences bridge the gap between them. I’m a lucky guy. “Yeah, I’ll look into that,” I joke.

  Mulling over Mom’s advice, I must agree on one thing. There’s no reason to wait.

  I shouldn’t.

  It’s settled. Tonight is the night I tell Tealey Bell that I love her. I turn with a grin and head back to the groom’s room.

  * * *

  Jean-Luc.

  Fucker.

  I guess Marlow didn’t get the message that my Tealey’s not up for grabs. The minute he walked in, kissing cheeks of the women under forty and kissing hands of the women over, he made his presence known. You’d think he’d just landed his private helicopter on the lawn by how much attention he was getting. I peek out the window to check, just to make sure.

  Jackson asks Cade, “How does it feel to be getting married?”

  “Remember how graduation felt? Nervous for the unknown but excited like the whole world was yours for the taking?” Cade grins. “It feels just like that.”

  I look over my shoulder at Cade. He just described Tealey’s and my relationship.

  I think I knew all along that she was going to get the best of me, that I wouldn’t be able to lose her once I had her. Even on the day I met Cade by the water, I chalked my feelings up to having mixed-up emotions so I could try to play it off.

  Two months later, I realize—I’m ready to admit—that I’m not mixed up when it comes to Tealey. I want to be what I’ve never been before—a boyfriend, a partner, a lover, and a friend to this woman who makes my heart beat faster, that allows me to breathe with ease. Tealey Bell gives me a peek into a life I never thought I’d have.

  Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair in a sad attempt to wrangle my runaway feelings. Refocus, Wellington. Turning to face my friend, I say, “You look happy, man.”

  Cade maneuvers around us and angles his chin to get a better look in the mirror. “I am. It took eight years to get to this point. I would have married her on day one.”

  Cade’s cousin comes in and holds up the bottle of bourbon that went missing from our room earlier. He asks, “Got another one of these?”

  Shooting me a look, I know what he’s asking me to do. “The wedding’s about to begin. It’s an open bar at the reception.”

  “Cool.” Satisfied, the guy closes the door.

  Jackson says, “Oh to be twenty-one again.”

  “All of six years ago?” I ask, teasing.

  The wedding planner opens the door and pokes her head in. “Ready to get married?” she asks, a smile reaching the rounds of the apples of her cheeks.

  Cade heads for the door with us behind him. He asks, “How’s my bride?”

  The planner looks as if she’s seen an angel. “The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

  They continue talking as she leads us to the great room to wait. Her words have me imagining Tealey dressed in white, taking a walk to be my wife. I rub the bridge of my nose. Two months, I remind myself. I can love her. I can be in love with her. But it’s too soon for marriage.

  Marriage should be a calculated decision, one that makes sense and is done at the right time. Although Tealey’s not afraid to put her dreams into the universe, my dreams are just taking shape.

  My mom’s bedroom door opens, and Tealey and Marlow walk out in short pale purple gowns—fitted on top and flaring out at the waist. The shoes are simple strappy flats, which my mom will appreciate since heels will mess up her lawn.

  But it’s Tealey’s eyes that shine like the sun hides in them—bright and beautiful, so much like who she is—that render me speechless. She comes to me and adjusts my boutonnière. Looking up, she says, “You look very handsome, Counselor.”

  I’m not sure what to say. I want to wrap my arms around her, tell her how she’s utterly breathtaking, kiss her, claim her, and keep her safe from the rakish Frenchman waiting to pounce on her at the first chance he gets. I’m just not allowed to. Not yet. Not without giving her a say. And there’s no room to talk for the time being.

  Cade is sent marching down the aisle, and we’re told to line up. We pair off as it should be—Marlow and Jackson, Tealey and me. Like a drill sergeant, the wedding planner inspects all of us. She steps back to take us in, and her face sours. “No. This isn’t working.” Grabbing Jackson, she says, “You and . . .” She doesn’t have to say it. There are only two couples.

  Tealey’s hand tightens around my arm, and I place my hand on hers to hold her right where she is. Then the planner says, “We have to hurry. Tealey,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “Come up here.”

  “I think this works.”

  “If the two ladies swap partners, it looks better visually. You’re going to have to trust me on this. I’ve been organizing weddings for years, and the photos are what remain long after the vows. Let’s make Cammie’s look the best they can.” Fuck that.

  Tealey huffs, but then her grip loosens. Looking up at me, she swallows, and then says, “She’s probably right. You and Marlow are the better match.”

  “I disagree,” I whisper. She gives me a look to go along with it and turns away. Why is it that every time we think we’ll be together, something intervenes?

  She’s handed her bouquet and then looks back once she’s on Jackson’s arm. The planner shuffles them out the door before I can tell her that my love for Tealey matters more. And I fucking oppose the planner’s decision. I prefer Tealey standing next to me over any other woman.

  Marlow straightens her shoulders. “This is also better for appearances
.” Marlow beside me, even for Cammie’s benefit, feels wrong.

  I look at her in disbelief. “Fuck appearances. I’m done playing games with you. He bought the apartment. You got what you wanted.”

  She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “You did too. Don’t forget that.”

  The planner gives my shoulder blade a little shove, and we start walking. With each step, my annoyance at Marlow and this entire situation continues to build.

  Something about her tone makes it seem as if I owe her father something for making partner—if I make partner. And as we pass Bob Marché while we step down the aisle, I realize something: my partnership has nothing to do with him.

  I’ve busted my ass for years. I’ve worked myself into the ground. I’ve put my heart and soul into my work, and while Bob’s divorce may have helped me get there in the end, I would’ve gotten there anyway.

  And Marlow would’ve too. I glance at her profile. She’s come a long way over the past year. She may be flippant, and she may be shallow, but she works hard. She tries to do the right thing. And she’s a good friend and a good person. Her metamorphosis was intentional, and she lost a little bit of that today on the beach with her father and Lorie. She fell back into a persona she’s tried so hard to shed.

  “You know what?” I ask quietly. “That’s bullshit.”

  “What’s bullshit?” she whispers and then flashes a forced smile at someone in the audience.

  “I worked for my promotion. I’ve worked for it longer than the past couple of months. If I get partner, it has nothing to do with you or your dad. Don’t get it twisted.”

  She stutter-steps. Her long blond hair is twisted up in the back, restraining it from swinging through the air as she whips to look at me while we cross the deck. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You know what’s wrong. That crossed every fucking line in my book.” I stop on the grass. “This is not who we are, Marlow. Don’t let your dad and stepmom drag you back into a version of yourself that you left behind. On purpose.”

  A clearing of the throat grabs our attention. The planner grits her teeth. “Go.”

  Marlow sighs heavily but takes my arm again, and we start walking. Through tight smiles, we continue fighting, though. She says, “Not everyone is handed—”

  “Don’t go there.” I set my eyes on Tealey, standing at the altar, waiting for me just like she said she would be. She had faith this would all work out in our favor. She believed in me. But I’ve failed her in so many ways.

  A slight sadness lingers in Tealey’s eyes at seeing Marlow and me coming down the aisle together, and it feels like a knife through my heart.

  This should not be happening. I should not have put her through this.

  Any of this.

  “I’ve sacrificed more than you’ll ever know to play along with your charade.”

  “Like what?” I can hear the eye roll through her tone.

  “The love of my life.”

  36

  Tealey

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  The wedding photos took forever, but once they were done, enough time had passed for Rad and Marlow to cool off. Although Jackson and I have made wild guesses, neither of us feels we should broach the situation with either of them just yet.

  “They argued all the way down the aisle,” I say. “Now they don’t appear to be on speaking terms. What should we do?”

  “Leave them be,” Jackson says. “They’ll work it out on their own.”

  I watch Marlow chat with Cammie’s grandmother before she turns, looking a little lost. The most noticeable thing is that she appears to be avoiding us.

  And Rad took a call and disappeared when I was helping Cammie touch up her makeup. Fortunately, she seems none the wiser. Although Cade was a witness, he hasn’t said a word. I agree with his stance. This is their special day, so I’m kind of surprised that Rad and Marlow would put on such a display.

  Both head in separate directions, but I decide to start with Rad to figure out what’s going on. One moment, I see him with his mom. The next, he’s heading into the house. Both times, he looks upset. I’m thinking he might need some time to cool off, so I head to the bar for a glass of champagne.

  Jackson has already found his way and is propped up against the bar when I arrive. “What can I get you, Tealey?”

  “A glass of champagne, please.” When he hands it to me, I say, “Thank you.” I leave the space between us open for conversation. “Soooo . . .”

  “Yeah,” he replies, tensing his jaw. “Whatever it is, it’s bad.”

  “You think?”

  He nods.

  “And you don’t know what happened?”

  This time, he shakes his head. Pushing off the bar, he says, “I think I’ll go look for Marlow. She might need a friend.”

  “Maybe I should go then.”

  “Marlow and I are friends, Tealey.” Offense threads through his tone. “Just like you and Rad.”

  Nothing like Rad and me, but I’m not going to argue with him. I agreed to this vow of silence on the topic of us, and I’ll stick with it.

  I set my glass back down, having no interest in alcohol right now. As the newlyweds start ticking through their list of traditional items on the reception agenda, I go in search of Rad again. Cutting across the lawn, I’m just at the edge of the party when I hear, “Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

  The accent is thick, matching his dark hair. His caramel eyes are set on me like we’ve met before. We haven’t, but I know who he is. “You’re even prettier than Marlow described.”

  “Thank you. You must be Jean-Luc.” When he leans in to kiss my cheek, I pull back, his gesture too forward for me. Or maybe I’m just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the greeting. Either way, I say, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tealey.” I know nothing of this man other than he’s an art collector. Something tells me he has interests in collecting other things, such as notches on his belt. Just a gut instinct, but one that’s served me well.

  Of course, I had judged Rad all wrong, so maybe my instincts aren’t as reliable as I once believed.

  “Yes, Marlow spoke highly of you.” He holds his glass forward. “You don’t have a drink? Shall we make our way to the bar?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Antsy to get to Rad, I look toward the house one more time.

  “Champagne is for celebrations. Weddings. Engagements. New friends. We have all the makings of a beautiful evening.”

  “The wedding was so beautiful.” I was teary-eyed when Cammie tried on her dress the first time, cried when I saw her today, and bawled like a baby while I listened to her and Cade exchange their vows.

  He sips his champagne while I figure out how to ditch him and get back to searching for my boyfriend. “I should apologize for Marlow. I did not agree to—”

  “Her engagement, I heard, was quite the surprise today.” He sips, his eyes fixed on me.

  Marlow? Engaged? He must be mistaken. There’s no way. She’s not even dating anyone. I try to riddle through what he said, thinking I heard him wrong in the first place. “Marlow’s not engaged.”

  “Oui, she is indeed. The fiancé was ill-prepared, popping the question because her family is here. Americans have lost the art of romance. No honest man would make a mockery of love. Love requires intimacy, not big displays.” His flippant comment warrants a comeback, but I’m still stuck on the “popping the question because her family is here” part. The only person with Marlow and her family was Rad.

  My hands fist at my side, and I take a deep and staggering breath to control my head from exploding. “Did you see the man, her fiancé,” I grit, “propose, or is it a rumor?”

  “The actress, Lorie Marché, was telling a small group of us at the wedding. Her father is going to give a toast.”

  “A toast?” Rad is about to have his engagement announced instead of his relationship with me going public. A punch to the gut has me coddling my mids
ection just as panic sets in.

  He must be wrong. Others men are dressed in tuxes. It must be a mix-up. Please be anyone but Rad.

  “This, uh, man.” He looks around and then turns back. “Is the same man as the one coming from the house.”

  My gaze pivots over his shoulder to see Rad returning to the reception. Just past him, twenty or so feet, Marlow walks out of the house. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and I brace myself by holding it with one arm. It’s hard to speak with my throat thickening, but I ask, “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s the man?”

  “I am. Lorie pointed him out when they walked down the aisle.”

  I stare at Jean-Luc, watching the shape of his lips when he speaks and the way they creep around the edge of the glass when he drinks. I stare at his mouth because it’s a liar just like the man. Only someone cruel like him would spread lies for entertainment.

  My Rad wouldn’t do this to me.

  My Rad wouldn’t betray someone he loves.

  My Rad wouldn’t go against his moral compass, choosing his career over me. I know he wouldn’t. Rad has goals, but he’s changed for the better. He has a life, with me, for the better. Why would he do something that he knows would destroy me?

  He promised never to hurt me, but I stand here unable to walk away from the pain.

  Jean-Luc rocks in his loafers and then smiles. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Tealey?” The voice cuts past Jean-Luc. When my eyes find the ones that usually bring me comfort, this time, they don’t. I’m hit with a glare so piercing that he has me believing I’ve done something wrong. “I’ve been looking for you,” Rad says, standing behind Jean-Luc.

  “I’ve been looking for you as well,” I volley back with caution.

  We’ve had a fight, but it was a rain shower compared to the storm brewing inside him. The tension is so thick that I take another step back from Jean-Luc as if he’ll find me guilty from the proximity to another man.

  This is not Rad. Not my Rad.