Perseverance (Disenchanted Book 2)

by L. D. Davis

  Not for the first time, obviously, I thought they looked like the perfect couple. Marco was breathtaking in his tux and red bowtie. I’d seen him in a tux before, but he looked a million times better this time. So sexy and masculine. Celeste was just as ridiculously beautiful as she had been the last time I’d seen her, maybe even more so. Of course, she was impeccably dressed in a navy wrap maxi with a slit up one leg and silver high-heel sandals. The dress would have looked plain on anyone else, but she looked amazing, which tore away whatever self-confidence I’d had, because there was no comparison.

  The three of us stood there for several seconds, the pair of them looking at me, and me looking back and forth between them.

  “You look stunning,” Marco finally said as his eyes traveled up and down my body.

  It was a kind exaggeration, considering the Venus standing next to him.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “Was that Adam?” he asked, but I knew that he knew the answer to that before he asked it.

  “Yep.”

  Celeste usually ignored me, unless she wanted to be a smart-ass, and I felt this time was no different.

  “You and Doctor Saito have become rather close as of late,” she said, her eyes pinned to my face.

  I really could not stop the words that came out of my mouth. “Yeah, but we’re not going to sneak off to one of the most romantic countries in the world for two weeks together. At least, not yet.” I gave her the fakest of smiles.

  Marco sighed. “Lydia.”

  He was about to say something more, but someone called his name at the end of the corridor. I peeked around him and saw Kyle. Marco acknowledged his friend with a nod and indicated he would be right there.

  “I have to go. Celeste, I can take you to your seat first.”

  “I can find my seat,” she said dismissively. Her gaze was fixed on me. Although she wore that same little smirk I couldn’t stand, I otherwise had no idea what she was thinking or feeling.

  Marco looked between us. “I think I should show you to your seat.”

  Calmly, she said, “You are wasting time, Marco. The wedding starts in minutes and you are needed, and you are not currently needed here. I can find my own seat, and if I have any trouble, I am certain Lydia would be glad to assist me.”

  He gave her a severe look, but before he could object, Kyle called him again, this time with a little more urgency.

  “Go,” I insisted.

  With an aggravated sigh, he relented. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I didn’t know if he was talking to me, Celeste, or both of us, but I didn’t ask him before he headed back the way he’d come. After a minute, we were alone in the corridor. Time was winding down. A violinist played a festive song in the other room, and the small crowd murmured excitedly. And there I was, about to have it out with Celeste.

  “I apologize for the way I behaved when we first met,” she said without preamble, shocking the shit out of me.

  My jaw dropped. I had not been expecting that, like not even a little bit, but I didn’t know how I felt about her apology just yet, so I mashed my lips together and remained silent.

  “Last year’s party, Marco brought Ashlyn. A week later when we met for lunch, he brought Malissa. About six weeks after that when I went to his apartment for a small dinner party, his date was…damn…what was her name? Oh. Yes, how could I forget? Ruza, a supermodel from the Czech Republic. I saw Ruza a few more times after that, and just when I began to believe he might keep this one for a while, it was over. That was just last year. The year before that there were other women whose names and faces are no longer important. The year before that were other women whose names and faces had stopped being important by last year. So, when you and I were introduced, I immediately dismissed you, because in a day, or week, or even a month or two, you would be another faceless, nameless, unimportant woman.”

  I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but I remembered that those were like my own thoughts in the beginning. I’d thought Marco would cycle through me like he had all the women before me, and I would cease to matter.

  When I said nothing, she continued to speak casually, as if we were discussing the wedding or fashion. “I knew he was spending a lot of time with you and your family, and he did refer to you as his girlfriend—that was new. He’d never called anyone his girlfriend before, but still…I wasn’t entirely convinced it was real. I thought he was just infatuated and would grow bored and move on, as he always did.”

  Her tone grew soft and lost some of its fine sharp edges. For the first time since I’d met her, I could hear sincerity in her voice.

  “I wasn’t convinced what was between you two was real until recently.”

  I hesitated for a moment before asking, “What convinced you?”

  Her voice went from soft to hard in a flash. “You broke his heart.”

  That shook me. I knew I’d hurt him, but I hadn’t thought that I’d broken Marco’s heart. I didn’t think I had that power.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” I said softly.

  “Maybe not,” she admitted.

  We were both quiet for a minute or so before I asked the question of the day—of the century. “Have you and Marco ever been together? Romantically or physically or both?”

  Her beautiful face twisted into a scowl that made it no less beautiful. “Why would you think that?”

  “You two have a chemistry, and then there was the dancing at the party, and the way you looked at him like he was a bag of Chex Mix while you had a craving for something sweet and salty. Then you went to Italy with him for almost three weeks. Why wouldn’t I think that?”

  “Would you have thought we had a relationship had I been plain or ugly?”

  My nose crinkled. “What kind of a stupid question is that?”

  “It is a very good question. I know I am beautiful. I know I am physically attractive, and somehow my intelligence and success add to that attraction.”

  “You are also quite humble,” I muttered under my breath.

  “It is okay to admit your strengths, Lydia. It is okay to appreciate yourself. I do. I always have but being beautiful can be a curse.”

  “No,” I said with exaggerated shock.

  “You jest, but it’s true. Growing up, I received entirely too much attention from the opposite sex. Sometimes that attention was obscene, do you understand? Imagine one of your beautiful little girls at the age of twelve being approached by a man three times her age.”

  I took a startled step back, recoiling at the thought. Her face was hard as she raised one eyebrow at me, as if to say, “Now you get it.”

  “In addition to all the inappropriate gestures, touching, comments and propositions, I had to deal with the people who thought I could only be pretty, and not pretty and smart. People disregarded or underestimated me because they believed I was incapable of having half a brain. I also dealt with all the girls who thought I was a slut because I received more male attention than they did. Slutty Celeste, they called me in high school. It just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Do you think all that ended because I grew up? People still view me in those ways. People still tend to underestimate me and judge me. I have to deal with it almost daily with my work, and even within my own social circle. So, I ask you again. Would you have thought Marco and I were anything more than friends if I were plain or ugly, or if my boobs were smaller, or if my ass was flat?”

  Okay. Maybe I was a douche bag. Maybe I had done to her what I thought everyone did to me, only looked at me and made snap decisions. Would I have made such assumptions about her had she looked more like me? Probably not.

  I relented with a sigh. “No. I guess not.” Before that smirk could reform on her face, though, I quickly added, “But that didn’t answer my question. Did you have anything with Marco?”

  She frowned at me. “You truly are exasperating. No, Lydia. Marco and I have never, ever been anything more than friends. He isn’t my type.”


  I felt my smirk forming. “Is your type a doctor about five-ten, half Japanese and half English, and sexy in the most adorkable way?”

  Holy crap, I made Celeste blush! She scowled at me, but there was still a trace of pink in her brown cheeks.

  “You do realize how he feels about you, right? And you ignore him.”

  She breathed through her nose, as if she were trying to keep herself calm. “I don’t do it on purpose. He makes me…he makes nervous, okay? He is the only person on Earth that makes me nervous.”

  “An orthopedic surgeon makes you nervous?”

  “We’re not here to talk about me,” she snapped. “We are here to talk about you and Marco.”

  “Yeah, well…even if I feel better about you and him, I don’t feel better about him and me. I need some time to…to let everything digest. There are other issues.”

  “Fair enough.” She glanced at the door that led to the ballroom. “We’d both better go.”

  I nodded absently and turned away to head back to the bridal suite.

  “Lydia,” Celeste called after me.

  I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

  “The entire time we were in Italy, Marco talked of you incessantly. I cannot tell you what to do, I can only recommend you think your decisions through. He at least deserves your careful consideration.”

  She walked into the other room without a second glance at me. After a moment, I released a breath I’d been unaware of holding and returned to my sister.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He was watching me, watching almost my every move. He’d been doing so since the ceremony when I’d walked down the aisle ahead of the bride. He had stared at me with large eyes, wonderingly. I think for the first time, Marco realized there was something different about me, that I stood a little straighter, walked a little steadier.

  While the guests enjoyed cocktails and small bites to eat, the photographer tortured us with photo after photo in a formal living room full of antique furniture. There were shots of just Lily and Kyle, Lily, Kyle, Marco, and me. Lily, Kyle, Amara, Marco, me, Cora the flower girl and Gavi the ringbearer. More shots that included my mom and Kyle’s mom, and then just shots of me and Lily and just Kyle and Marco, and so on and so forth.

  I vowed that if I ever had a real wedding, I would never subject anyone to such torture. It just seemed to go on and on, and I was beginning to feel lightheaded. I hadn’t had so much as a cracker since lunch, because I hadn’t wanted to puke anything up—although, that didn’t stop me from dry heaving a couple times. Now my stomach was rumbling, and the room felt off kilter, or like I was standing sideways.

  During a brief break in the ridiculousness while Lily and the photographer discussed where to do the next set of pictures, Kyle and Marco had a whispered conversation in one corner of the room. Marco’s back was to me, but I saw Kyle’s eyes flicker to me once before he nodded his head and murmured something back. A moment later, Marco winked at me and slipped out the door.

  After about ten minutes or so, I began to believe that he left because maybe he got a phone call or was expecting one from Celia. I glanced at the time on an old grandfather clock against one wall and tried to think of what time it was in Italy, if this was when they would have normally hung out together. The thought was making me furious and simultaneously sent me close to tears, but before I could either express my outrage or weep, Marco returned. He held the door open for someone, and I half expected Celeste to glide in, but instead, it was a Christmas miracle. A servant entered, pushing a cart laden with several different types of appetizers. Behind her, a man entered with another cart carrying empty glasses, a pitcher of water, iced tea, hot tea, and coffee.

  Before I could throw myself at the feet of the servants and offer my gratitude, Marco picked up a plate that had already been made with a little bit of everything on it and walked across the room to where I stood, amazed.

  “Here, Tesoro,” he murmured and passed me the plate.

  “We couldn’t wait another half hour?” Lily asked behind me, her voice laced with disapproval.

  Marco didn’t even look at her when he answered. “Lydia and the kids are hungry.”

  “She couldn’t have waited another half hour?” came my sister’s snide response.

  “Hey, Bridezilla,” I heard Kyle respond softly to his wife. “It’s okay. Here, eat something. Kids, everyone, grab something.”

  I tuned them out as they moved farther away and closer to the food, and looked down at my plate. Without any further hesitation, I blindly jammed something into my mouth. I didn’t really taste it, didn’t know what it was, and didn’t care. I moaned with satisfaction. Marco stood there and watched me with amusement.

  “Is that good, sweetheart?”

  I didn’t even care that he was calling me sweetheart. I was so ravenous that I couldn’t even speak anymore, because my mouth was full, my cheeks bulging like a squirrel’s. Suddenly, my hormones decided to make a show, because before I could stop myself, I began to softly cry as I ate. Marco’s amused face immediately turned to one of concern as he placed a hand on my cheek.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  “I’m so happy,” I managed to say after I swallowed. “I was so hungry.”

  His smile was uneasy. “Um. Okay?”

  “You brought me food.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Nothing to weep over, though. Hey, don’t eat that, it’s a…” He trailed off as I popped the little crunchy thing in my mouth. “Mushroom…” He finished with a look of complete befuddlement.

  “It’s so good,” I said on a sigh and passed the empty plate back to him. My tears were already gone. They’d left just as abruptly as they had come.

  “Right.”

  He used a cocktail napkin to dab at my eyes.

  “Oh my god, did my makeup run?” I touched my face.

  “Only a little bit. I took care of it. No one will notice that you had a mental breakdown over mini pigs in blankets, Swedish meatballs, fried mushrooms, fried macaroni and cheese, mini chicken cordeon bleu, and some bread.”

  I looked down at the plate. “I ate all that?”

  “In about five seconds flat. When was the last time you ate anything?”

  “Lunch.”

  He gave me a chiding look. “No wonder you were emotional. Your blood sugar was probably out of whack. You have to take better care of yourself.”

  Didn’t I know it. Now that I was feeling more human and more like myself, I remembered that I was still on the fence concerning Marco, and that we were being a little too intimate. Not that it didn’t feel nice to stand so close to him, to have him smiling at me and taking care of me in ways no one else did, but there was still a lot between us that needed to be addressed, more than he knew.

  “Can we please get back to the pictures now?” Lily asked with exasperation. “Lydia?”

  I stepped back from Marco and broke eye contact, but not before I saw the look of disappointment on his face.

  Since there were only about forty people overall at the entire wedding, the reception was an intimate affair. Several long tables were pushed together to create one big rectangular table with empty space in the middle of the rectangle. The bride and groom were situated at one end, with guests lined up on either side. In one corner of the room was an impressive bar. The elegant wedding cake sat in the center of a table in another corner. The rest of the table would be empty until dessert and coffee and tea were served. In the space where the ceremony had taken place, the chairs and arch had been removed and replaced by a DJ and dance floor. Here and there were couches and armchairs and settees and ottomans and small tables where guests could lounge after the meal while others danced. Lanterns hung low from the ceiling, giving off a soft, pretty light.

  Lily and I had seen the work in progress yesterday, but even she seemed surprised and overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. Felicia had done a wonderful job.

  Despite my positions of maid of
honor and sister to the bride, I opted to sit at the other end of the table with my kids. It was close to Mandy’s bedtime, and it had been a long day for her. She was one cranky-ass toddler. She sat between me and Marco, who insisted on being wherever I was, crying because her salad had “too much salad” in it. I kept looking at my glass of champagne, feeling tempted to drink it the more the little girl whined.

  Marco eventually got her to calm down and even to smile. He just had that effect on people, even me, though I didn’t want to admit it. Several times throughout dinner, I felt his fingertips skim over my bare shoulder, as he had his arm stretched out across the back of Amanda’s chair. It wasn’t a move to get my attention, because the few times I glanced at him, only once was he even paying attention to the fact he’d done it, almost as if it was just in his nature to touch me when I was near, to be as close he could be.

  Across from us, whether by design or mistake, Celeste and Adam were seated together. At the beginning of the meal, it seemed like they did everything to avoid talking to or touching each other. Every now and then one of them would speak and the other would respond. At one point, around the second course, Adam murmured something I didn’t hear, and Celeste threw her head back and laughed. I watched him watch her laugh, and then watched as she finally met his eyes and as her laughter faded and she was left with a pretty and genuine smile. They hadn’t stopped talking since, often putting their heads together to whisper and then coming away smiling or laughing.

  I looked at Marco, who looked at me. We both smiled knowingly, happy for our friends. Our gazes lingered for too long. When I finally glanced away, I felt a little breathless.

  Honestly, even though I felt justified in my anger, I was conflicted. I felt lighter, a sense of relief after my conversation with Celeste. I believed her when she said there was nothing but friendship between her and Marco, especially after I saw her face when I mentioned Adam, but as far as Celia was concerned, I was still very much uneasy. Like Kyle had said, Marco seemed to be in deep with her. I believed his past feelings with Celia were entwined with his sense of responsibility to his family. In my heart, I didn’t think it was intentional, but that only made matters worse. When you think you’re doing the right thing, it almost doesn’t matter who gets burned.