The Next Best Thing

She changed into some yoga pants, a tank top and sneakers—she’d been planning to exercise on her honeymoon to keep the extra pounds off, not be one of those wives who immediately began letting herself go the second the wedding was over. Oh, no. Not her.

Then she wadded up her dress and banged out of the stall. Paused, debating whether or not to stuff it into the trash. What does one do with a wedding dress when one has been jilted? Yes, Martha Stewart or Miss Manners or Amy Dixon, what does one do? One certainly doesn’t want to preserve it for one’s daughter, not when one won’t be having a daughter any time soon, since one’s fiancé is g*y.

She remembered calling Jeremy after she’d bought the dress. Daddy had taken all of them to Corning, to a beautiful bridal shop, and the very first dress she’d tried on had brought tears to his eyes. She’d called Jeremy to tell him mission accomplished, and he’d said, his voice warm and loving, that he knew she’d be the most beautiful bride ever, because she had the most beautiful heart. (Gah! How could she have thought he was straight?) Then she’d talked to his mom, to tell her all the details, and Elaine had been so touched that she’d cried.

Oh, lordy. There were those strange choking noises again.

She didn’t throw the dress away. She couldn’t. Instead, she walked out of the bathroom, the dress under her arm, dragging the suitcase behind her. Levi was watching the door, talking on the phone, to Jeremy, no doubt. Because those two had no secrets. He hung up as she approached.

“Do something with this,” she said to Levi, shoving her dress against his chest and continuing on to a row of hard plastic chairs where her dog waited.

In six hours and forty-three minutes, she’d be out of New York.

Levi sat next to her, stowing her dress under his chair. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. How long have you known?” She didn’t look at him.

Levi didn’t answer for a minute or two. Finally, she kicked his foot and glared at him. He looked bored. How dare he look bored? The bastard!

“I guess I always knew.” Blue rolled onto his back, letting them know he was available for tummy-scratching any time.

“Really. You knew from the minute you met him.”

“Pretty much.”

“How?” she demanded, looking at his face. “Did he try to kiss you, something like that?”

“Nope.”

“But you just knew.”

“Yep.”

“And you never said anything?”

Levi shrugged. “I asked him about it once. He said he wasn’t.”

“Really? Well, what about me, Levi? Did you ever think to say something to me? Huh?”

He deigned to look at her, his green eyes expressionless. “People believe what they want to believe.”

“Well, you know what?” she said, her voice rising. “You should’ve tried. I love Jeremy! I love him! I’m so in love with him, it kills me! Don’t you get that?” Blue barked, backing her up. Blue loved Jeremy, too. Great. Another victim in the war.

“I believe you,” Levi said. “Maybe you could quiet it down a little, though, huh?”

“Why? Am I embarrassing you? Am I making a scene? Don’t you know what it feels like to have your heart ripped open? Do you have any idea? My whole life is gone! You took that away! You just had to say something, didn’t you? You had to open your mouth!”

Then she was crying, so hard she was choking, and she jammed her hands into her hair and bent over, the sounds coming out of her alien and horrifying. How would she get over Jeremy? What kind of a life was she going to have without him? Already she missed him so much it was as if someone had shoved a hot poker through her heart. Blue nudged against her, and she buried her head against her dog’s neck.

She felt Levi’s arm around her shoulders and shrugged him off. Like she’d allow him to comfort her.

“I hate you,” she managed to say, the words strangled on her sobs.

“Yeah, well, win some, lose some,” he muttered, folding his arms and sighing.

“Just go.”

“I told Jeremy I’d stay.”

And, of course, Jeremy wouldn’t want her here alone. Because even now, he was trying to take care of her. Even now, Jeremy still loved her. And was g*y.

The crying was endless, as if she was being punched in the chest with each breath, tears pouring out of her eyes, which Blue licked away, whining. People probably thought she was mentally unstable; she sure as hell felt that way. Her rational thoughts were just distant pings; it seemed like she was being sucked under by waves of grief and shock, barely able to breathe.

Levi got up—probably to ask someone for a tranquilizer—and returned with a roll of paper towels. “I couldn’t find any tissues,” he said, taking his seat once more. Blue had given up and was sleeping, his head on her foot. She grabbed the roll and blew her nose, then took a few more and mopped at her face. The tears kept falling.

And now Levi was looking at her with those eyes of his that always seemed to be so bored with her. “Look, Faith, I know this is hard for you. But would you rather be married to a g*y man?” he asked calmly.

“Yes! In the case of Jeremy, yes! You didn’t do me any favors, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking of you,” he said, glancing out the window.

“No. You were being the world’s best friend, outing Jeremy on the altar during our wedding. Well done, Levi. Really. Maybe you’ll get another medal.”

“Faith,” he said, “let me ask you a question. What were you thinking during the wedding? Because your face was as white as your dress, and Jeremy was sweating blood. It was a disaster waiting to happen. And if it did, he never would’ve left you.”

“We would’ve made it work.”

“That’s ridiculous. You both would’ve been trapped.”

“You can shut up now.” Her jaw ached from clenching.

“Someday, you’ll be glad you didn’t marry him.”

“I’m thinking about kicking you in the nuts, Levi. Shut. Up.”

Finally, he did. Her eyes stung from tears, and more tears kept flowing. The paper towel she’d used to wipe her face was smeared with makeup.

Soon, she’d be away. She’d be away from horrible Levi, away from the town where everyone was talking about her, away from Jeremy and his beautiful eyes and happy face.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, was only aware that her eyes were burning, her head heavy. At some point, she slid down in the chair, and there was something under her cheek. A hand on her shoulder.

She woke groggily. Someone was shaking her gently. “Time to go, Faith,” a voice said.

Levi. Right. Her head was in his lap. She sat up, wincing. Felt as if she’d been beaten with a golf club. Blue was on his feet, tail wagging. “I took him out about an hour ago,” Levi added.

“Passengers in first class may begin boarding,” the airline person was saying. “This is American Airlines flight 1523, direct to San Francisco. First-class passengers, please begin boarding.”

Thank God. She stood up, adjusted her shirt and ran a hand over her head. She’d forgotten to take her hair down; it was still in the complicated and beautiful twist from this morning.

Levi stood as well, and she managed to look as far as his chin. “Tell him I’m doing all right, okay?” she said, then tightened her grip on the dog’s leash.

“Lie, you mean?” he said, with a small flash of a grin.

She didn’t return it. “Yeah.” She took the handle of her suitcase and started over to the gate.

“Faith?”

She looked back at him.

His brows were drawn, his face serious. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

Said the man who ruined her wedding. “Take care of yourself, Levi,” she said wearily. “Don’t get hurt over there.”

And with that, she and her dog boarded the plane.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FAITH STOPPED OUTSIDE of Hugo’s and did a quick pass of her hair, licked her dry lips and tried to ignore the stomach cramps that had been knifing through her since she woke up at four this morning.

There he was. She could see him through the restaurant’s glass door, standing by the maître d’s desk, waiting for her. His hair was shiny as a crow’s wing, like his mom’s, his back to her, as he was talking to someone. Oh, crap, it was Jessica Dunn. Great. No one made her feel less attractive than Jessica, who probably had never even heard of Microfiber Slim-Nation undergarments.

Faith had dressed for the occasion, oh, yes. One does not meet one’s g*y ex-fiancé without looking fantastic. Her cutest San Francisco dress, a bright yellow confection with good seaming and tulle flowers bunched along the hem. In SF, it had seemed like sunshine itself; now, seeing Jessica dressed in black skinny jeans and a black V-neck sweater, Faith felt like a giant kindergartener. Well. At least she had on slutty shoes.

Now or never, Faith, her brain instructed, sounding like Mrs. Linqvest, who’d often whipped out stories of Eve’s pain in childbirth to better terrorize the kids. Faith opened the door, the handle cold in her damp palm.

Jeremy turned around, and his eyes went soft. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi there, stranger,” she said, her voice sounding false. Then she hugged him, and oh, crikey, he felt so good. Three and a half years apart, and she remembered everything about him, how they fit together, her cheek against his shoulder, the hard, smooth muscles of his back, the soft brush of his hair against her cheek, the smell of Old Spice (again...how could he be g*y and wear Old Spice? Or had that been a clue?).

She’d loved him so much. The best man she knew...and the man who’d lied to her for years. Who’d allowed her to think they’d have everything.

Faith pulled back and gave him a smile, which shook a little at the corners. Jeremy’s eyes were wet, too.

“You got even more beautiful,” he said a little unsteadily.

The words caused the lump in her throat to swell. “And you haven’t changed a bit.” But he had, a little. There was a sadness around his eyes, and a few very appealing crow’s-feet had sprung up, making him even more handsome.

“Hi, Faith,” Jessica said, a tinge of impatience in her voice, like she’d had enough of the reunion.

“Hi, Jess. Nice to see you.”

Jess cocked an eyebrow. Really, she and Levi had been the perfect couple. Maybe they could go into business. Condescending Looks, LLC. “Come on, I have your old table for you.” She led them through Hugo’s to the table by the window. Jeremy held her chair, just like old times. Jess handed them menus like she was giving out Oscars, then asked if they knew what they wanted to drink.

“How about a bottle of the Fulkerson dry Riesling?” Jeremy said. “Got any left?”

“We do.”

Jeremy smiled at Faith. “They beat us out of the platinum last year. Don’t tell my parents I ordered it. They’ll kill me.”

A twinge of nervous irritation zipped through her. The man had left her on the altar; now he wanted to joke about wine like they were old chums. Out on the lake, boat lights winked and bobbed. The hum of the restaurant patrons made the silence between them a little less awkward.

Her lessons on dressing well seemed to have stuck with Jeremy; he looked like a model for Ralph Lauren now, a red V-neck sweater over a cream-colored button down, dark washed jeans. His hair was a little shorter than it used to be, and it suited him.

“So Levi told me he’s seen you a couple times,” he said.

“Yes. Good old Levi,” Faith said, managing to keep the snark out of her voice. “You two are still close?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jeremy put the napkin in his lap, then took a deep breath. “I’ve been really nervous about seeing you,” he admitted. “I woke up at four this morning.”