Page 71 of The Lovers
“I get it.” But her face drops into a baby frown. “As a counterpoint, you will have to tell them—it’s important that you do.”
“And I will.” I groan, gulp some wine. “I just want it to be my thing without them putting their expectations on it. Just for a little longer.”
“Fair. One hundred percent fair,” she agrees. “Clearly you should focus on the legit second-chance romance happening right now, in real life.” She shakes the phone in excited agony.
“Oh my God,” I say, laughing. “I’m hanging up.”
“Rom-com gold, baby,” she says. “This is the dream.”
“Youare the dream.”
“Iamthe dream,” she says with a pleased wiggle, and then exclaims, “Oh! Forced proximity! Friends to Lovers! Look at the trope candy.”
“Goodbye, Nina,” I singsong.
“Love you,” she says. Kisses at the screen.
“Love you more,” I reply, hanging up the call.
I fall back against the couch, letting the now empty wineglass slip to the seat beside me. I feel emptied out in the best possible way and grateful that I told her. Getting it out there—even if it’s to someone I trust and love as much as Nina—feels like ripping the Band-Aid. Necessary, a little painful, bracing, but also like your skin can finally breathe.
She’s right about my parents. At some point I will have to tell them if I intend to make a real go of this thing with Julia. The idea of that sends a thrill up the length of my spine.
If she wants me, if she wants to try, then there’s nothing standing in the way.
Not even the past.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Julia
The bride and groom stand at the altar, where Healer Arynne walks them through the vow portion of the ceremony. We’re t-minus seventeen minutes until the rehearsal party portion kicks off, and there haven’t been any more disasters. Major or minor. Zoe comes up behind me, dressed in a pair of slacks and a tangerine button-down, her hair neatly arranged in a chignon.
She always manages to add personal flair to her mandatory dress code outfits.
During my rise in the ranks at Love, Always, I started requiring my wedding staff to wear professional dress for the main events. Slacks, clean lines, hair secured so it can’t get untidy. It set our team apart in the crowd, and also helped signal we were officially in business mode.
I’ve changed into pin-striped slacks and a white button-down.
Classic. Boring. Exactly the kind of ensemble you’d expect, but that deep down makes me chafe.
I flit my eyes away from Healer Arynne’s still-red-rimmed-from-crying eyes to glance over the rest of the wedding party. Allpresent and accounted for, all mostly presentable. Cash still has the scabbing burn on his forehead, but he is expected to allow us to cover it by whatever means necessary (besides trucker hat) tomorrow for the ceremony. No protests.
When my eyes land on Piper, it’s no surprise to me that she’s checking me out. Her expression is equal parts guarded attraction and outfit scrutiny.
Part of the transformation I went through while dating Piper was a massive wardrobe makeover that struck as much Julia Kelley flair from my closet as humanly possible. I kept telling myself it was for the good of my career—no bride wants a wedding planner who stands out in the crowd. Draws attention.
I convinced myself that imposing that same dress code on everyone around me was the way to ensure I stood out as a leader. But anyone who knew me before will remember how decidedly more punk rock I once was. Not unprofessional, but always with an edge. A dagger earring. A pair of studded leather booties. More unexpected patterns, way less beige.
When I was working my way to a lead planner position—first pick of weddings, access to more resources—my overall vibe was a deterrent for some of the more vanilla clientele. Beverly Hills elite aren’t exactly the most open-minded of individuals. I wasn’t keen on changing to suit their comfort levels, and wouldn’t have without the subtle, steady encouragement of my girlfriend.
Why don’t we go shopping?Piper would ask, and then every item I picked would get feedback to push it in the direction she felt I needed to go. My success at Love, Always wasn’t just a reflection on me. Piper was quietly out among her main circle of associates, but not anyone with ties back to her family. She was happy to wield her queer card when it would get her entry into circles thatdidn’t trust her Connecticut Elite pedigree and the hefty dose of privilege that came with it. And turning us into a power couple was a means to at least one of her ends.
“Apparently, the video is losing traction already,” Zoe says, drawing me out of my stewing revelry. “I had to ply her with dark chocolate to get her onstage.”
“How’s the social media ban going?” I say between gritted teeth. “Any updates from Bruno?” Her nostrils flare in amusement.
“He hid her phone,” she replies. “I didn’t ask how he pried it from her grip.”
