If the Dress Fits

by Nancy Warren

  Carefully, she removed her wedding dress and laid it on her bed. She brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, touched up her makeup and then, knowing that she was about to take the biggest risk of her life, she walked back into that closet. Back down the way she’d come, past where the wedding gown had hung. It took her a moment to find the dress she was searching for, but only a moment. She catalogued her clothes chronologically. And there it was. She thought she’d kept it. The black dress she had been wearing the first time she met Wade. Would he even remember? Probably not. But it meant something to her. She remembered trying to look older back then, or at least more sophisticated. She tried to rapidly recreate her hairstyle from that day. She’d worn her hair piled high, but in a messy, I-just-threw-this-together way. She ran to the bathroom and did throw a style together. She didn’t still have the same shoes she’d worn—they’d been sky-high stilettos she could barely walk in. But she had plenty of black stilettos and she soon found a pair she liked.

  Taking a deep breath, she slipped into that black dress that she had been wearing the moment her life changed forever. She very much hoped the dress would work its magic a second time. She checked the time and caught the double glitter of her engagement ring and the ruby and diamond bracelet. Red lipstick. She had worn red lipstick the night they met. She went back into her bathroom where she stocked red lipsticks in every possible shade. She chose a pomegranate color.

  She didn’t have time for more. She kept a small makeup kit with the essentials, plus a spare toothbrush, in her purse. She could fix herself up in the car.

  The last thing she did was to take her wedding dress and fold it carefully into tissue paper and slip it into her large bag.

  When she ran back down to where Carlos patiently waited, she threw herself into the back and told him to take her to Wade’s hotel.

  As they drove, she called Wade’s cell phone. He didn’t pick up. It. He had said he was leaving tonight, but she had no idea what time, or what airline. Could he be already on the plane? Was that why his cell phone was off? No. She shook her head. She refused to believe it.

  She leaned forward, half wishing she’d taken her sports car. “Carlos, he’s leaving tonight and I really need to get hold of him before he’s gone.”

  “I’ll do my best. I know a couple of shortcuts.”

  Carlos had hidden talents, she discovered, as her driver ducked into alleyways and tried to dodge the worst of the late afternoon traffic. When he drew up at the hotel she jumped out before the uniformed greeters reached the car.

  She ran into the hotel. Realizing she was making a spectacle of herself, racing in a black cocktail dress and heels, she slowed, but not very much. She got to the reception desk. The young man who greeted her looked her up and down with an approving glance.

  “Could you ring Wade Davenport’s room please?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  He tapped away on the computer for a moment while frustration boiled within her. Come on, come on! She needed to talk to Wade before he left. And then her stomach plummeted like an out-of-control elevator when he shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He checked out.”

  “He said he was flying out tonight. Do you know what flight he’s catching?”

  The young guy looked like he wanted to help her but he shook his head once more. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re not allowed to give out information like that.” She gave him her best smile. Flashed her engagement ring at him. “But I am his fiancée. His phone is off and I need to reach him urgently.”

  He gave her back the dazzling grin, and she suspected that he was moonlighting as a front desk clerk while waiting for his big break as the next Brad Pitt. “I wish I could help you.”

  “What time did he check out?”

  A woman about her own age emerged from a door behind the front desk. The clerk turned to her. “Did you by any chance check out Wade Davenport? Suite 21B?”

  The glance she gave Gabby suggested she knew perfectly well who Evangeline was but, as with so many hotels in LA, it was understood that not a flicker of recognition would be allowed to cross her face. There’d be no gushing, no asking for autographs; instead she said, “I believe I did help Mr. Davenport. How can I help you?”

  When she explained the situation, the manager, whose name was Barbara, according to her badge, said, “It was about thirty minutes ago. He got us to print off his boarding pass. He’s flying United. I believe the flight leaves at seven-thirty. You’d better hurry.”

  “Thanks, Barbara.”

  She jumped back into her car and told Carlos to race to LAX. “Wade’s plane leaves at seven-thirty.”

  “At this time of night, it’ll take over an hour to get there.” He was already rolling. “But I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”

  Her stomach was jumping with nerves and she kept pressing the floor in the back of the car as though she had a personal accelerator back here. She had to resist the urge to tell Carlos to go faster, move into the other lane. She knew she was being hysterical and she had to get herself under control, but she had this overwhelming feeling that if she didn’t make things right today nothing would ever be the same again.

  Traffic crawled along in typical LA-at-rush-hour fashion. The only consolation she had was that Wade could be no more than half an hour ahead of her according to the information she had received at the hotel and so his cab was probably stuck in the same traffic she was. The knowledge didn’t help. She tried his cell again and got voicemail. Was his cell really turned off or was he avoiding her calls?

  She dug into her bag and pulled out the red lipstick and even though her lips were still perfectly red, she added a little more color anyway. There was something about a red lipstick that gave a woman confidence. She stared out of the window. Then saw a commotion in the car beside her and realized that a middle aged couple had recognized her. They were waving. The husband tried to take a picture of her through the two vehicle windows. They were so cute. She waved back. And then finally traffic broke a little. Even so, she had nearly driven her fingernails through her palms by the time they reached LAX. Her car screeched up to the entrance and she dashed out. As she was slamming the door, Carlos called out “Good luck!”

  Oh and she was going to need it.

  She ran forward. Found the check-in desk. “I’m looking for a passenger on the seven-thirty flight to New York. It’s very important I talk to him.” Why hadn’t she done an Internet search in the car on the way here? At least she could have found the flight number, checked to see if the plane was maybe, hopefully, please, please, please, delayed.

  The young woman glanced up and did the usual double take when a person spots a celebrity.

  “It’s my fiancé. Wade Davenport.”

  The woman nodded. “Right. I saw an interview with you two. I’m glad you worked it out. It gives a woman like me hope that, you know, even when you’re not so young you can still find a great guy.”

  The trouble she seemed to be having was keeping that great guy. “So, can we get hold of him?”

  She woman shook her head.” Sorry. That flight is boarding.”

  “No. It can’t be. I have to talk to him.” She grabbed her bag. Pulled out her wallet. “Can I still buy a seat?”

  “You’ll have to run.”

  “I’ll take anything in first-class.”

  She put an astonishing amount of money on her platinum card for a flight she didn’t intend to take. She’d think about that later.

  The woman handed over her ticket and said, “Go!”

  She did. Sprinting in heels. She wasn’t the greatest athlete in the world, but she thought she might have set a speed record for running in heels. She was panting when she got to security. After practically stripping naked, shoving all her belongings into a gray plastic bin that had seen better days, she walked through the electronic security gate and the beeping thing went off. The young security guy looked like she’d made his day. He said, “Stand with your arms out please
.”

  She did as she was told, willing him to go faster. Please, let the plane not leave without her.

  He ran the wand around her chest level and the wand bleated like it was oversexed. “It’s my underwire bra,” she told him in a low voice.

  He nodded. “I know. We get that a lot.” Still, he had to do his job, which she understood, even as every cell in her body vibrated with the urge to run. Then, finally, she was free to go. Of course, the plane was at the farthest possible departure gate. Instead of looking cool and collected, by the time she got to the gate she was sweating like a pig, her ankles bent over like a crippled person’s because she hadn’t put her shoes back on properly and she was heaving like a steam engine. She burst into the departure lounge. There were only three people still lining up to get on the plane. Three people. And not one of them was Wade.

  At least the plane hadn’t left. She joined the short line. When it was her turn, she presented her ticket and said, “Can you confirm for me that a passenger is on board this plane? He’s my fiancé.”

  She was greeted with yet another head shake. “Sorry. Security regulations.”

  Here she was, about to board a flight to New York without even a change of underwear. She had a twenty-year-old wedding dress with her, never worn, but not so much as a clean pair of panties. And she had no idea if the man she was pursuing was even on the damn plane.

  But, she had a credit card. And she’d found in her life that as long as she had some cash and a credit card, there wasn’t much she couldn’t get. She tried to catch her breath as she headed to the plane.

  She was hopping on one foot waiting for the person in front of her to board when a voice behind her said, “Gabby?”

  She turned and there was Wade, striding towards her. She felt her smile bloom and relief clutch at her chest. “You’re not on the plane.”

  “No. Traffic was terrible. Plus, I got here and there’s like fifteen missed calls from you so I was worried. I was trying to call you back. Your phone’s off.”

  She snorted with nervous laughter. “No, the battery ran down.”

  He looked at her, clearly realizing that she wasn’t here by coincidence.

  “Wade. I need to talk to you. I couldn’t let you leave without telling you, I love you.”

  “And you wait until we’re in the jet bridge to tell me? I have to get on this plane. I really do have important business in New York.”

  She didn’t know what she’d expected when she declared her love, but more than to hear his agenda! She didn’t have a speech prepared. She’d pretty much thought those three little words would fix everything. Seemed she was wrong. “I know. I bought a ticket so I could tell you.”

  He shook his head. “Have I ever told you that you are completely crazy?”

  Her lips twitched at that. “I think you first told me that when I was nineteen years old.”

  “So it’s not a new problem.”

  She shook her head. “Also, probably incurable.”

  For all the rushing to get here, there was some kind of holdup and a short line of people still waited to board. She said, “I’m sorry. That was the other important thing I had to tell you.” Then she realized she had to explain her crazed race to the airport. “I went to the bar with those girls. No, wait. First I tried that dress on. It looked like crap on me. That dress was meant for Megan O’Reilly.” She shook her head. “You were right about everything. I was never going to wear that dress. It was wrong of me to make up that story about being engaged to you. It was wrong of me to manipulate you like that. And I’m sorry.” She glanced down at the beautiful ring she’d enjoyed wearing for the past few weeks. She slid the ring off with shaky hands and offered it to Wade. When he held out his palm and let her drop the ring into it, the mist in front of her eyes deepened to a lake. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  He closed his hand over the ring and she was grateful, not that anyone was paying them any attention, but she didn’t want the whole world to know that she’d just got unengaged. “But if you let Megan wear that dress and we don’t continue with the fiction that we are engaged, what happens to your business?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that nasty journalist will keep trying to convince people that my business is cursed. Maybe it is. But it doesn’t matter. If I don’t design wedding gowns I’ll figure out something else to do. In fact, I have an idea. I got it when I was drinking margaritas with those brides, at Señor Hooch if you can believe it. I realized that every woman should get to wear a dress that makes her feel like a princess. I might look into taking some of my more successful gowns and putting out an everyday line. Not obviously with the finest silk and real pearls but with the same style as the original. The kind of dress I could afford when I was young.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what they put in the margaritas at Señor Hooch but you’ve come a long way in a couple of hours.”

  They got to the edge of the plane. He stepped on but she hung back. There was no point flying to New York. She’d said what she had come to say.

  He’d taken back the ring.

  Wade glanced back. “Are you coming?”

  His expression made her ask, “I don’t know. Should I?”

  He held out his hand. “You definitely should.”

  She took his hand and they walked onto the plane. Of course, their seats were rows apart, but Wade used his charm and maybe her celebrity status helped. Someone offered to move and soon they were sitting side-by-side.

  Wade leaned close. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but could we go back to the you love me part?”

  She imagined this was what it must feel like for a skydiver to stand on the edge of the plane and look down at the earth rushing by so far below, to take that step out into the unknown and let go of the last vestiges of security, not knowing if your parachute was going to open or not. She took a deep breath. And then took the plunge. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone else. That’s why none of my relationships ever worked.”

  She tried to be honest so she added, “Well, that and being high maintenance and demanding. But, I was too scared. I was too scared and I screwed up. But when I stupidly claimed I was getting married, your name was the only one I thought of. And you came. Because I asked you to. And these past weeks have been, well, magic.”

  “So, what are you saying, exactly?”

  He would not make this easier for her. “I think I’m saying, will you marry me? For real this time.”

  “If I say yes, will you snatch that gown back from the poor girl who wants it so much?”

  “No. That dress is hers. I have a very different gown in mind for my wedding.”

  He sat there for a moment. He seemed to be considering her proposal as though it were a merger he might have to take a gamble on. She felt so nervous she wanted to start listing her good points. Try to sell him on her as a bride. Finally, he said, “No. I decline your very flattering offer.”

  And there it was. The parachute that wouldn’t open. She felt the hard ground rushing towards her and she was incapable of stopping the crash. Then he spoke again, “I think I’m surprisingly old-fashioned about some things. I always thought the man should do the proposing.”

  “Oh.” Maybe her parachute was going to open after all. She stared at him. “Are you planning to propose any time soon?”

  “Could you give me a moment?”

  “I’m nervous.”

  He took a breath. “For a man who’s had enough practice proposing to you, you’d think I’d get it right by now. It should be done somewhere romantic like on top of the Eiffel Tower or something.”

  She shook her head. “No. This is very romantic. This is the most romantic place I’ve ever been.”

  He chuckled. “I am not getting on my knee in a crowded plane that is about to take off.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned over and took her hand. “Gabby Brock”, then he had to speak up because the engines began to roar. “I love you and
I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love your beauty and your intelligence and your creativity. I even like your temper. At least you’re not dull. And you never leave a man in doubt about what you’re thinking. Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, Wade.” She threw her arms around him and he kissed her hungrily. Then he took her left hand. And he slipped the engagement ring back where it belonged.

  The flight attendant came along with a tray containing glasses of champagne, some glasses of water, and a couple of orange juice. “Would you care for a drink before takeoff?”

  She laughed. “I think a glass of champagne would be perfect.” She took two glasses off the tray and passed one to her very brand-new fiancé.

  They clicked glasses. “To us,” he said.

  Chapter 15

  Wade had a car and driver waiting for him at LaGuardia and they were soon whisked to his townhouse in the Upper East Side. In the wee hours of the morning New York was as quiet as it ever got. Cabs rolled along, the odd emergency vehicle screamed by.

  Even though they usually got together for lunch or a drink when she was in his city or he in hers, she’d never been inside his home. He’d long ago upgraded from the tiny apartment he’d owned two decades ago.

  The interior of his home was ultra modern and sleek. The walls and furniture were all in neutral shades as though the whole place were an elaborate frame for the wild bursts of color in the paintings. “I see you collect art.” She hadn’t known he had an interest in emerging artists. Sadness washed over her that they’d let so much time go by.

  He kissed her. “I keep my best pieces in my bedroom.”

  She laughed at him even as desire curled in her belly. “I’m not a bit surprised.”

  She woke at what seemed like the middle of the night to find Wade dressed and putting on his shoes. She blinked sleepily. “What time is it?”