FIVE

 

Long Ass Flights and Complimentary Whine

 

Libby

 

 

As soon as I step outside of the church, I stand at the top of the steps, blinking into the bright sun and trying to figure out what to do next. A sense of urgency propels my feet forward because any second now, these doors will open and everyone I know will come spilling out of them. I hurry down the sidewalk to the limo, only to find the driver doing push-ups next to the car with one arm behind his back. Hmm. Weird.

“Excuse me, Xavier,” I say as calmly as possible. “Bit of a change in plans. Turns out there won’t be a wedding today after all. I'm going to need you to get me over to my flat as quickly as possible.” Well done, Libby. You definitely do not sound like a distraught, jilted, barely hanging on by a thin thread bride.

Xavier looks up at me and gasps, “Jesus! What happened to your face?” He pops up and quickly opens the front passenger door to the limo, retrieving a box of tissues.

I glance down, see that the front of my dress is covered in blood, and know the bottom half of my face must be as well. That is probably why my boss’s wife, Gina, was hiding her son’s face in her bosom during my announcement.

Xavier’s just handing me a wad of tissues when I hear Alice's voice behind me. “Get in! We have to get the hell out of here!”

Xavier glances back and forth between us for a second, then says, “You two didn't do anything illegal in there, did you?”

“What?” Alice’s face scrunches up in confusion until she looks at me. “Oh, that,” she says. “She’s a stress bleeder. Now get behind the wheel so we can track down her arsehole fiancé! Take us to her flat as fast as you can drive!”

The three of us pile into the limo just as the front doors of the church swing open. As we pull away, I glance back in time to see my mum comforting Jorge, who looks like he’s close to tears. Yeah, that makes sense. My mum should totally be there for him right now…

Alice grabs the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and takes a swig, then wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. “Richard is so dead. Like, roadkill dead. There won’t even be anything left for his parents to identify. Except maybe his balls. I might put those in a jar of formaldehyde and keep them on my mantle.” She tips the bottle back again, then says, “What am I talking about? You should keep his balls. They belong to you. Plus, I have kids, so that would lead to a lot of awkward questions. Drink?” she asks, holding the bottle out to me.

“No, thanks. I’d like to keep a clear head right now.”

“Good. Good thinking. Somebody needs to keep a clear head. Otherwise, we’ll get caught and I can’t afford to do prison time. Jack can’t even handle if I go out for the evening. Imagine if I were put away for ten to twenty. He’d completely fall apart.” She pops the bottle back into the bucket, then gets out a water and wets some napkins. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit. It kind of looks like it’s Halloween and you’re dressed as a zombie bride.”

“Listen, Alice, I appreciate your support and all, but I’m honestly not mad at Richard, so I don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret when he and I sort this all out.”

She stops wiping my neck. “Sort it…not mad…Libby?! HE LEFT YOU AT THE ALTAR! How can you not be angry?”

“I mean, I’m hurt and humiliated, yes, and I know it’ll take a long time for me to feel better, but I also know I’ll get over it. Richard and I are perfect for each other, and I’m not about to throw away a six-year really terrific relationship over one bad morning,” I say confidently. “I mean, that would be a little short-sighted, don’t you think?”

Alice just stares at me blankly while grabbing the champagne and sucking down a long swig.

“I’ll just go home, he and I will have a long talk, and we’ll fix things. There’s no need to overreact.”

“I am not overreacting. If anything, you’re under-reacting!”

Xavier chimes in with, “I don’t know. You’ll never regret taking the high road. A calm and logical approach is always the right one.”

“Thanks, Xavier. I really appreciate your support.” I give Alice a pointed look, only to have her reach across me and press the button for the privacy screen without saying a word.

Fifteen blocks and several protests later, Alice gets out of the limo with me in front of my building. I turn to her and smile. “I think it’s better if you go back to the church. Maybe Jack and the kids are still there?”

“There is no freaking way I am letting you go up there alone. You’re obviously in some sort of delusional state with your emotions completely shut off, and when this all finally hits you, you’re going to need me.”

“I’m fine, really, but if it makes you feel better, you can come upstairs with me and hand me off to Richard,” I say. “But, you have to promise not to say a word to him or go in search of sharp objects.”

“Fine,” she says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Now I see where Colby learned that world-class pout of his.” I wink at her, then turn to Xavier, who is still holding the door open. “Will you please wait here until my friend comes back down, then take her wherever she needs to go?”

“Yes, of course,” he says. “And may I say, it’s very impressive how calmly you’re handling everything?”

“You may.” I give him a satisfied smile, then start for the building.

Two minutes later, I open the door to our tenth-floor loft-style flat with Alice hovering next to me as though we’re conjoined twins. Silence greets us and my heart sinks because whenever Richard is here, you can hear the low hum of the telly.

On the kitchen table, a note is waiting for me.

 

Dear Libby,

I wish I could find the words to express how sorry I am about all of this. Had I been a braver man, I would have told you months ago how I was feeling and spared you the humiliation you must be feeling now.

I’ve gone out to give you some space while you get ready to go to the Benavente Islands. I know you’re not about to let your boss down just because I’ve done the same to you. Plus, I know how much comfort you take in following through with a plan.

I hope three weeks away will allow you to heal, and that when you return, we can discuss the division of our assets.

You deserve to find a man who is good enough for you, and as much as I wish I could be that man, I am not.

Apologetically yours,

Richard

 

“What a bunch of crap,” Alice, who has obviously been reading over my shoulder, scoffs. “Go on your honeymoon anyway?! That is maybe the worst idea he's ever come up with. Well, second only to not showing up for his wedding, the bloody arse.”

I carefully fold the letter in half and place it back on the table. “Actually, I think it's a perfect idea.” Turning my back to her, I gesture over my shoulder at the buttons down the back of my dress. “Can you help me? I should really soak the blood out of my dress before it sets.”

Alice sets to work on my dress, her fingers moving much more quickly than they did this morning when she fastened them up. “How can you be so damn calm right now?”

“Because this is just a blip in the road. Everything is going to be just fine. I'll go on the trip, do my job, and the best part is, it’ll give Richard twenty-one long days to realize the mistake he’s made. By the time I get back here, he’ll be so desperate to make it up to me that I’ll have him wrapped around my little finger.” Smiling at her, I add, “Actually, now that I think about it, this whole thing could turn out better than if we’d gotten married today. After all, nothing makes a man fall for a woman like thinking he’s lost her forever.”

 

***

 

Text from Mum: Oh, Mini-Me! I can't believe Richard's stood you up. This just solidifies my beliefs about the shackles of marriage. Jorge is devastated, of course, because he was hoping I would marry him. I'll be rushing him back to Argentina as quickly as possible so that he may heal. Let me know where you end up. We should do a girl’s trip, maybe to Bali or Thailand!

 

Voicemail from Quentin Atlas, Manager of Mergers and Acquisitions, Caribbean Team: Libby, not gonna lie, that looked pretty rough today. I hope everything is okay with you and Richard…and your nose. Jesus, that was a lot of blood.

Listen, I need to know ASAP if you are unable to go on your trip to Paradise Bay. I'm pretty sure I could get Alan to take your place since he’s about to close on the Atlantis Cove deal. The guy’s a shark. I'm certainly hoping I've got two sharks on my team but completely understand if you're unable to do your job right now. Just call, text, or email back as fast as you can.

 

***

 

“I know I sounded really confident when I said all that to Alice, but between you and me, now that I've been sitting on this plane for the past six hours, I'm suddenly not so sure. I mean, I would've felt a lot better if I could’ve at least seen Richard in person before I left town. What if he really is serious that he doesn't want to marry me?” I say, offering my last tiny pretzel to the woman sitting next to me.

Her name is Greta. She got on the plane at our stopover in Frankfurt and is going to Benavente for her fiftieth birthday. She’s renting a villa overlooking the ocean where several of her friends who live in various places around the world are going to meet her. How fun is that? Anyway, she’s a really great listener. We got to talking about, oh, four hours ago, and I’ve pretty much unloaded my whole life story on her.

She shakes her head at my pretzel offer, then says in her thick German accent, “That is a real possibility, since he didn’t show up for the wedding.”

I pluck the pretzel out of the bag and take a tiny nibble while I consider her words. “Oh God, Greta, what if he really doesn't love me? What if no one will ever love me?”

“I suppose that could happen. Lots of people in the world never find someone to spend their life with. But there are worse tragedies—terminal illness, homelessness. Those are both much worse.”

“Good point. Thanks, Greta. It is important to keep this whole thing in perspective, isn't it?” I take a long swig of the white wine the flight attendant brought by a few minutes ago. “But if you had to guess, what would you say the chances are that Richard and I will end up together, you know, percentage-wise?”

“Well, based on our four-hour conversation, I'd say you clearly love him, but I don't think the feeling is mutual, you know, because he decided not to marry you. So, unless you can suddenly become a completely different person, I'd say…maybe five percent.” She pats me on the hand and then closes her eyes. “You should get some sleep now. I should too.”

“Right. You’re probably right,” I say with a sigh. I close my eyes for a second, then sit up with a start. “Oh my God, who am I kidding? Richard doesn’t love me! I’m boring and predictable and…and quite possibly unlovable.”

She jerks awake and blinks a few times. “No, no. This is not true. Well, some of it. Boring, yes. A little crazy? Most likely. But I promise, you are lovable.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because there’s something to love about each person. Except Richard. He sounds like a complete jackass,” she says with a firm nod. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but I’m afraid it’s true.”

I sit with my shoulders slumped.

“Now, you go on your honeymoon. Try to meet a handsome man and have some wild sex — only not the butt stuff, I agree with you about that. Just have a fling. Find someone who can help you feel good about yourself again.”

“Like Angela Bassett in that movie about the woman who needed to get her groove back?”

“Sure, like that.”

“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “What if Richard wants me back and then changes his mind when he finds out I’ve slept with some strange man?”

“He’s not going to want you back, dear. So, do whatever makes you happy. Then go home with your head held high and a little secret in your heart. And if by some miracle he wants you back, you make him beg.”