Julian
SOMEHOW, I SET aside my concerns about Lydia’s discovery long enough to focus on Carter. My best friend is married.
We give each other a pound. “You did it, man,” I tell him.
He shakes his head, a dazed expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m still stunned the lady in 12D agreed to marry me.”
Given the tumultuous start to their relationship, I’m stunned, too. In any case, he wears their love well, and I’m glad Tori’s the one who broke through his defenses and stole his heart. “Do you need me to make a toast or something? Tori didn’t mention anything during her thirty-minute PowerPoint presentation about the wedding schedule.”
His shoulders shake with laughter. “Don’t let her hear you making smart remarks about her penchant for planning. The toast is up to you, though. She didn’t want to pressure you or Eva to make any planned remarks.” He leans in and whispers in my ear. “To be honest, we were both focused on the getting-married part. Everything else is gravy.”
“All right, then. If the mood strikes me, I’ll regale them with tales of your wild teenage years. So much incriminating stuff to share.”
“Have you forgotten that those years were modeled after yours?”
I tilt my head at him and blow out a breath. “Good point. I’ll just wish you a long marriage and call it a day.”
He slaps me on the back and walks me over to the table. “Smart man.”
Brunch is a casual affair, a nod to Carter’s laid-back personality, with everyone invited to eat at a long rectangular table under a tent several feet away from where the ceremony was held. The waitstaff delivers the family-style spread, and the guests dawdle as they try to decide where to sit.
I survey the grounds, searching for Ashley. I’d like to speak to her about Lydia—forewarned is forearmed—but she’s nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, I sit down, trying to work out a way to protect Ashley from Lydia’s barbs. A minute later, I spot Ashley leaving the cottage, and as she travels along the cobblestoned path, her guitar case in hand, Lydia appears at the door, calling out to her. The stony expression on Ash’s face suggests they’ve already exchanged words.
Ashley strides with purpose to the small parquet dance floor, breezing past me with only a glance in my direction, and then she sets her guitar case on the ground. After approaching Tori and Carter’s table, she leans over to whisper in Tori’s ear. The bright smile that graces the bride’s face tells me we’re all in for a treat.
With a fond pat to the body of her guitar, Ashley pulls the instrument out of the case and secures the strap around her shoulder. She taps the microphone and draws back when the feedback rings out like a loud gong. “Hey, everyone. So um . . . for reasons I still don’t understand, Carter and Tori asked me to perform a song for their wedding. And . . .”
She freezes, her eyes blinking furiously.
C’mon, baby, you can do this.
She glances at me, nods ever so slightly, and takes a steadying breath. “Well, you all know Tori by now, and she’s not someone you want to say no to.” That draws a laugh from the guests. “This is ‘I Choose You’ by Sara Bareilles.”
She strums the guitar with confidence, and a few people in the audience straighten in their seats. When she sings the first verse, she tilts her head to the side and closes her eyes, transporting herself somewhere else. The folksy rasp in her voice fits the song, and the lyrics are custom-made for Tori and Carter. That’s it, Ash. Show them who you are. Halfway through the song, she opens her eyes and sways her body to the music, her shoulders and chin lifting as though she’s throwing off a burden that’s been weighing her down. She’s no longer entertaining us; rather, she’s doing what she’s meant to do, and I’ll never forget the dazzling smile she gives us after the last note.
As she secures the guitar in its case, the guests clap long and hard, a few of them shouting, “Bravo!” and “Encore!” Tori rushes over to tackle-hug her. When they separate, Carter folds his sister into a tight embrace and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. Less than a minute later, Ash takes the seat next to mine.
I lean over and whisper into her ear. “You were phenomenal, and I’m proud of you, and I can’t wait to have loud, grumpy sex with you.”
She laughs and shoos me away. “Thank you.”
Knowing the threat that looms, I try to give her a heads-up about Lydia. “I need to speak with you about your cousin—”
Sighing heavily, she flicks her gaze upward. “You and me both.”
Eva, who’s sitting to her left, snags her attention, while everyone else continues to praise her performance as they enjoy the meal. At one point, Grandpa James asks, “Why aren’t you out there on your world tour?”
Ashley’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles at him. “It’s not that simple, PopPop.”
“Nothing ever is,” he replies.
Ashley’s aunt chimes in. “Music is a tough business. For every successful artist, there are thousands struggling to get their foot in the door.”
There’s always a person in a group who’s an expert on everything. For this gathering, it’s Carol.
“You’d have to be an outstanding talent to make it, and even then, there’s no guarantee,” she continues. She places a hand on Lydia’s. “Better to be practical like my Lydia here. She chose a career that will sustain her over the long term.”
Jesus, the woman sucks the joy out of any situation. I’m renaming her the Happiness Negator.
Ashley’s grandmother scoffs at Carol. “Well, I think my granddaughter’s an outstanding talent, and if she wants to be a megastar, no one’s going to stop her.”
I chance a glance at Lydia and register her clenched jaw. This conversation must be grating to her for at least two reasons. One, she’s not the center of it, and two, Ashley is. She scoots back in her chair and relaxes into it as though she’s getting ready to add to the discussion. Given that she’s wearing a smug grin, I can predict what her contribution will be. If my cloth napkin were longer, I’d reach across this table and use it to wipe that expression off her face. She’s licking her lips, her eyes flickering with amusement as she stares at Ashley. Then she leans forward on the tips of her fingers, as if she preparing to pounce on her—physically, mentally, or maybe both.
I can’t let Lydia hurt Ashley, especially not here, in front of her friends and family—and not when she’s riding the high of her performance. But how do I neutralize Lydia? There’s not much I can say or do that will offset what we did or make her exposure less embarrassing for Ashley.
Lydia chuckles. “Hey, Ashley. A little birdie told me something interesting.”
Ashley, who’s been happily chomping on a piece of bread, raises her head and purses her lips at Lydia.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Ash hears my distress, and her face ices over. She drops the roll onto her plate. “You wouldn’t, Lydia.”
Yes, she would, because she knows that unlike her, Ashley would never stoop so low. Although the truth is my best option, it isn’t ideal since we agreed we wouldn’t tell Carter until he and Tori returned from their honeymoon. Plus, there’s no time to get Ashley’s okay. But I’m willing to take a hit—from Ashley or Carter—if it comes to that. After grabbing my water goblet, I jump out of my chair and tap a fork against the rim of the glass. “If I could have your attention for a moment, everyone.”
Carter chuckles. “Want to wait until the champagne’s served?”
I gulp and stretch the collar of my shirt, realizing belatedly that I’m not wearing a tie that needs loosening. My difficulty in breathing is no wardrobe malfunction; it’s wholly man-made. “Not really, no. I’d like everyone to be sober for this toast.”
Grandpa James chortles. “A sober toast is a boring toast, young man.”
Ashley’s mother chucks a roll at him, which he deftly catches.
After the laughter dies down, I begin. “Most of you know I met Carter when I came to Weston. I was a sullen kid, upset that my parents had shipped me hundreds of miles from home.” I study the group and focus on my parents. “I didn’t realize it then, but they were only looking out for me, trying to help me secure a better future. I get that now. Back then, though, I resented my situation. And I didn’t like my teachers, or anyone else connected to the school, until I met this loud, brash woman who took me into her home and fed me chocolate chip cookies—store bought, I later learned. Still, Ms. Susan, as I called her then, wouldn’t let me sulk, and eventually she coaxed me out of my shell.”
Susan smiles at me, leans over to Randall, and rests her head on his shoulder.
“Now, I also learned that Susan was part of a package deal. Her husband, Randall, and her kids, Kimberly, Carter, and Ashley, were also part of my new family away from home. And Carter followed me around like a puppy. I think he was impressed with my CD collection, and maybe he was looking for an older brother or something, but somehow we clicked. And we talked. A lot. Most of you know Carter well, so that should come as no surprise. I was never much of a talker, but with Carter, I started talking as much as he did just to shut him up.”
“It didn’t work,” Carter shouts.
I nod. “And I’m glad it didn’t. Because it opened me to something I’d never experienced before. Love between friends. He’s the guy who’s watched me grow into a man, and I’ve watched him grow into a star and so much more. But at his core, he’s my best friend Carter, and I want him to be happy and fulfilled.”
Carter takes a long sip of his water, his eyes sober.
“With Tori, he’s just that: happy and fulfilled. I’m confident that if Carter couldn’t act another day of his life, with Tori by his side, he’d be okay. Still happy. Still fulfilled. Because they center each other, hold each other up when one of them falters. A perfectly imperfect love that we should all aspire to.”
I bow in Tori’s direction. “So thank you, Tori, for coming into his life and for getting him in shape in more ways than one. I wish you both a lifetime of peace, love, and Netflix binges.”
Susan and Randall thread their fingers together and share a sentimental look. Tori dabs her eyes with a kerchief and mouths thank you.
She might not have as much gratitude when she hears what I have to say next, though. Because everyone knows you’re never supposed to steal the bride’s spotlight. Still, I can’t let Lydia embarrass Ashley in front of her friends, family, and in a few cases, people she hardly knows. “Now, Carter and Tori, I need to say something else, and I hope you’ll indulge me on this one.” I turn to the couple, my pleading eyes imploring them to understand the necessity of what I’m about to say. “I have a confession to make. For reasons I won’t get into so as not to embarrass anyone here, I asked Carter’s sister Ashley to pretend to be my girlfriend this weekend.”
The clink of the utensils ceases, and a low hum of whispered conversations begins. My gaze darts to Ash, whose fork hovers near her chin. Her eyes are huge.
“And she agreed, because she’s kind and giving. And unlike me, she’s always up for a little fun. But something changed in the last few days. What started as a ruse became real. For me, at least. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize what I should have known before. She’s the one for me.”
Now Ashley sets her fork down and watches me with soft eyes.
“I just wanted to clear my conscience . . . not sure why exactly. Maybe it’s because weddings bring out the romantic in me and I’m here with friends and family.” Standing in the center of the dance floor with a microphone and my heart in my hands, I’m more vulnerable than I’ve ever been, but my discomfort is irrelevant if it means Ashley won’t suffer.
“And I want Ashley to know when I kiss her it’s not because I’m playing a role. It’s because I want to.”
A few awwws make their way through the tent.
Grandpa James hollers. “Son, that’s the kind of move I would have made in my youth. Well done.” He motions for a server. “Can we get the champagne now?”
Carter and Tori rise from their chairs. Hand in hand, they walk over to me.
The bride pulls me in for a long embrace. “Thank you, Julian. That meant the world to me.”
“It was heartfelt.”
She pulls back and surveys my face with her head tilted in contemplation. “All of it?”
Carter steps to my side and claps me on the back before I can answer her. “You didn’t have to, but that was a perfect speech man.” He clears his throat. “About Ashley—”
One more lie to top off a weekend of deceit. “It’s not what you think. I can’t explain now, but Lydia found out what was up. I had to do something to protect Ashley. Lydia was circling like a shark in blood-infested waters.”
He pulls his head back, nodding slowly in understanding. “Ah. Got it. I can’t keep up.”
“Nor do you have to. Everything’s under control. Enjoy your wedding, man.”
He tugs Tori to him and assumes a tango stance. “Ready for our first dance, wife?”
Tori laughs and pushes him away. “Not like that, no.” Then she shimmies backward, beckoning him with a crook of her index finger. They sway together in the middle of the dance floor without having made any announcement that they would be dancing as a married couple for the first time. They’re doing what feels right in the moment, and I love that Tori isn’t wasting her wedding day worrying about checklists.
My gaze lands on Lydia and Carol, who are talking to each other in hushed tones. Lydia’s face is flushed, and when she’s not talking, she’s glowering at her mother. For once, her ire appears to be aimed at the correct person.
My body relaxes now that I’ve neutralized any pettiness Lydia planned to direct Ashley’s way. But a different kind of tension surfaces when I see Ashley and her long legs striding toward me. She’s wearing a flirty smile, and her eyes are flickering with interest. And all I want to do is push her against the nearest wall and kiss her so well she forgets her name, address, and social security number.
Before she reaches me, though, Grandpa James cuts her off and, with the help of his cane, bows like he’s her subject. She curtsies and links her arm with his as they walk onto the dance floor. Cockblocked by PopPop. I can live with that—for now.
What I can no longer live with is my dry throat, however, so I stroll to the edge of the tent in search of a drink. Not surprisingly, my mother corners me as I’m lifting a ladle out of the punch bowl.
“That was quite a speech,” she says. “And the truth, right?”
“Yes, that was the truth.” I point at the bowl. “Want some?”
She takes a cup and holds it out. “Sure.”
After serving her, I pour some for myself, and we drift to the side of the table, our gazes settling on the dance floor, where my father dances with Carter’s mother.
“You both look good,” I say. “Everything okay?”
My mother takes a sip of her drink before she answers. “We’re both fine. Physically strong and still in love. Will you be coming home anytime soon?”
I turn to face her. “Not for a while, unfortunately.” With my cup, I gesture at the activity in front of us. “I took off time to be here, and I’m going to be paying it back in blood, sweat, and tears when I get back. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, of course.”
She clasps my hand and kisses my cheek. “Be sure you do that.” Her mouth curves into a smile as Ashley approaches. “In the meantime, enjoy this beautiful day. This is what life is all about.”
I couldn’t agree with her more.