I walked over to the lobby bathroom, pushing the heavy door open and going inside. When I saw myself in the mirror, I laughed out loud: my hair was wild, windblown and tangled, my lips swollen from kissing, the straps of my dress tied crookedly, one higher than the other. As I reached up, trying to smooth my hair, a small piece of dune grass dislodged itself from somewhere, falling into the sink in front of me. I reached down, picking it up, then turned it in my fingers slowly one way, then another. This is what it will feel like when he’s gone, I told myself, but the thought was too big. Not yet.
Back out in the lobby, Ethan was standing by the front doors, a duffel bag at his feet. He’d tucked in his shirt and splashed some cold water on his face: his skin was cool as he kissed me, a cheek brushing my own. “Found your phone,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing it to me. “You’re going to need it.”
“Are you saying you’re going to call?”
“Probably before we even leave the lot.”
I smiled. “Then you’ll need my number.”
He pulled out his phone, swiping to the contacts, and handed it over. I could feel him watching me, so close, as I typed in my name and the digits, then hit SAVE. “There. Done.”
He took it back, then sighed. “I don’t want to be done.”
“Me neither.”
A car pulled up outside, just past the overhang of the hotel. I could tell by Ethan’s face that it was his dad. The car did look new, and expensive, low to the ground and cherry red.
“Just stay,” I said quietly, before I could stop myself.
“I wish I could,” he replied, then pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. Is this the end? I thought. Or would there be another kiss, another moment, more time, just like I wanted? But then he was pulling back from me, still holding my hand. “I gotta go, though. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I managed to get out. “I’ll be there for limeade before you know it.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Then he did kiss me again, one hand touching my face, lingering there even as he finally pulled away. “This isn’t over, Lulu. It’s only the beginning. Right?”
“The beginning,” I repeated. “Okay.”
I saw him draw in a big breath, then let it out before he turned, starting toward the revolving doors. When he was almost there, he turned, dropping the bag and jogging back over to me. As soon as he was close enough, I had my arms around him.
“I love you,” he said, close to my ear.
“I love you, too,” I replied. Then I kissed him, trying to put everything I felt and had into this last bit of contact. When he pulled away, it was all I could do not to sob.
And then he was walking over to the doors, pushing through them and outside. I got only the briefest glance of his dad, also tall, stocky, and dark-haired, watching him approach from over the roof of the car. He popped the trunk, and Ethan dropped his bag in, then walked back to the passenger door to climb inside. I knew I’d already gotten my good-bye, several of them, but I still couldn’t make myself move as his dad got behind the wheel, starting the car. Just as they drove off, two women approached from outside, pushing the doors into motion. My last glimpse of Ethan was this combination of the doors turning and the car moving, in a prism of motion and spinning that left me dizzy and yearning. As if the whole world itself tilted, not just my own.
CHAPTER
14
“WAIT, THEY’RE not coming?” my mom said, as William waved his free hand, trying to quiet her. “But the photographer will be here in ten minutes!”
“. . . of course I understand,” William said into the phone at his ear, using his firm voice. Just hearing it, I sat up straighter in my own chair. “But we’d agreed you’d participate in this photo shoot. There’s no way we’ll find someone else on such short notice.”
“Remind her this was part of our deal,” my mom said. He flapped at her again. “If they stand us up for this, no discount on the rehearsal dinner fee. I might even mark it up.”
Yikes, I thought, raising my eyebrows. When I snuck a look at my mom, she looked so incensed I quickly went back to folding programs.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” William said into the phone, sitting back in his chair. “And of course we’ll discuss how it affects our fee. . . . Fine. Okay. Right.”
“No,” my mom said flatly, as he hung up the phone. “No way she just canceled on us for this. I won’t accept it.”
“You know I usually am a big fan of denial,” he replied with a sigh, “but we probably need to call the photographer and reschedule. We can’t shoot wedding images without a bride.”
Just then, as if on cue, the front door chimed. When I looked over, a petite woman with close-cut black curls was entering, pulling a case behind her. A light setup was over her shoulder. “Morning,” she called out, totally oblivious to the mood of the room. “Where do you want me?”
My mom groaned, putting her head in her hands. This was dramatic for her, but I understood the frustration. Ever since Natalie Barrett Weddings had been chosen as a finalist for Local Business of the Year by Lakeview Monthly she’d been on edge, doing everything she could to better our chances of winning. This included, but was not limited to, eschewing the staff photographer the magazine had sent to get some quick candids in favor of a professional taking pictures of a real-life couple in our office. One of our upcoming brides, Marlo Wagner, had been all set up to come in with her fiancé that morning until the phone call a few minutes earlier. We’d had a lot of problems in the office, but lacking a bride and groom at the same time had never been one of them.
“I’ll call the magazine,” William said now, picking up the phone again. “Tell them we need another day.”
“Don’t bother,” my mom told him through her hands. “They already made it clear that if they don’t have these images by business close today they’re going with stock ones. Stock, William. Can you even imagine?”
“There has to be a solution to this,” he said, as the photographer started unpacking cameras and lenses from her case. “We don’t need a real bride and groom. Just two people to play the part.”
“No one wants to see us cutting a cake,” my mom said. “We’re too old and grizzled.”
“Speak for yourself. I got carded buying prosecco the other day,” he replied, somewhat haughtily. “And I wasn’t thinking about us.”
I was moving on to the next stack of programs when I became acutely aware of the fact that I was being watched. Sure enough, when I paused and glanced up, they were both looking right at me.
“No,” I said firmly. “No way.”
“She has a point,” my mom said, although she kept her eyes on me. “We’re not in the child bride business. However, if we just did body part shots—”
“What?” I asked, horrified.
“—it would easily work,” William finished, as if I hadn’t said anything. “Hands cutting a cake, hands holding a bouquet, shots from the back. Yes. I think it’s doable.”
“Do neither of you hear me saying no over here?” I said.
“I guess we don’t necessarily need a groom,” my mom told William, answering this question for me. “Although I did like the symmetry aspect of some of your ideas.”
“I’m not speaking to either of you,” I announced, going back to what I was doing. The door chimed again, cheerful, and I made a point of not looking up. The silence that followed, however, was familiar. As in a recent way.