20. Zombie Bride
20
Zombie Bride
CARLY
To-do list—December 25
?? Do something memorable in Barcelona
Do a better job of networking at the reception
Do Andrew again
“ Y ou’re radiant.”
“I’m sweating.” I dropped Andrew’s hand and fanned my neck.
I glanced at the other wedding guests in the hotel ballroom. What a disaster. The invitation had specified “beach formal , ” whatever the hell that meant. The guests wore a disconcerting mix of formal gowns, flip-flops, tuxes without ties—including one without a shirt—and rumpled linen. Half looked uncomfortable about being overdressed, and the other half looked embarrassed about being underdressed.
Still, they chatted, drank champagne, and laughed like it wasn’t a million degrees.
“Is it hot in here or is it just me?”
When Andrew scrunched up his nose, he reminded me of the teenager I remembered. “It’s a little warm?”
“Liar. You’re still wearing your blazer.”
“Want me to take it off?”
That would only remind me of what we’d done in our hotel room. I didn’t regret it. I’d floated through the ceremony, where my ex-husband married a woman young enough to be my daughter, on a post-orgasmic cloud. Unfortunately, I also hadn’t stopped sweating. Thank the makeup gods for setting spray.
“Not unless you’re hot too.”
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Of course I’m hot. You said it, like, three times while I was making you come.” His voice rose to a high-pitched purr. “‘You’re so hot, Andrew.’”
“I did not!” I pushed at his chest. Not too hard; I didn’t actually want him to go anywhere.
He murmured, “You thought it though.”
My satisfied sex gave a happy tingle. When he’d gone to his knees, when he’d sucked my clit like it was his job, I’d given up hope I’d ever be satisfied with a vibrator again. “I did.”
He kissed the side of my mouth. Anyone watching from a distance might have thought he kissed my cheek. Up close, it was anything but chaste. He lingered. Lingering was a big thing with Andrew Jones. After he’d railed me over the side of the couch, he’d curled up around me, sweat and all, peppering my skin with kisses and stroking my back until I fell asleep. Then he’d fallen asleep, too, and we had to sneak into a back-row seat while the ceremony was in progress.
Reluctantly, I pulled away. “Your mother’s here. Let’s not get carried away.”
He frowned. “She’ll think it’s because of the fake dating. But we’re real now, right? The park, the couch…that wasn’t fake, was it?”
My chest felt almost too full to breathe. “I’m not sure what we are now, but that wasn’t fake.”
His blue eyes smoldered. “Then let her see. Let everyone see. She wants me to be happy. And I’m overjoyed right now.”
My heart skipped a beat. This time, I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. Quickly. No lingering. “I’m happy too. Which is not something I thought I’d say at my ex’s wedding.”
Time for some space. “I’m going to freshen up in the ladies’. Maybe it’ll be cooler in there.”
“I’ll find us some drinks. What’ll you have?”
“A Cava, please.” I turned and headed toward the restrooms.
When the bathroom door separated me from the string quartet music and the buzz of conversation, there was a blessed moment of silence.
Until a retch came from one of the stalls.
It seemed too early for someone to have over-imbibed, but I shrugged and went to the sink and ran cool water over my hands and wrists.
The person retched again, then flushed the toilet. Good. She was done. I washed my hands and dried them on a paper towel. I’d pulled out another towel to blot my forehead when a sob came from the toilet stall.
Shit.
I walked to the stall, letting my heels click on the tile so the person would have a warning, and rapped gently on the door. “Excuse me, are you all right?” Then I remembered we were in Spain. “Disculpe, ?está enferma?”
“Carly?” A weak voice warbled.
Damn it. I knew that voice.
The lock clicked, and the door swung inward. Hayley looked as sweaty as I did, but her face was greenish. Mascara circled her eyes and trailed down her cheek. One of the tendrils her hair stylist had left to frame her face in her half updo was wet and had something gooey stuck to it. And her white lace gown had a streak of brown on the bodice.
“Are you sick?” Of course she was. “Should I get Brad?” That was better. His bride, his problem.
“No! He can’t see me like this, not on our wedding night. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just a little…you know.”
“Food poisoning? Norovirus?” I took a half step back. I did not want to be patient zero who spread a stomach flu to Andrew, plus a plane full of passengers on Friday.
She cradled her flat stomach with one hand. “No.”
Holy. Shit. “You’re pregnant?” I whispered.
She nodded. “No one knows except my mom and Brad.”
“Brad knows?” We’d always been so careful about birth control. Brad hadn’t wanted more kids. I’d been relieved that motherhood wouldn’t disrupt my career. That was before I’d let marriage annihilate it.
“Yeah, he’s—” She swallowed. Then she held up a finger and whirled toward the toilet. I had time to scoop up her hair, discovering that, yes, that was puke in it, before she heaved and spat into the bowl.
She coughed and flushed, then blotted her face with toilet paper. She turned to me, paler than her white gown, and smiled weakly. “He’s ecstatic.”
With difficulty, I kept from raising my eyebrows. “How do you feel about it?”
“Besides nauseated and sore?” She chuckled. “Over-the-moon excited. I can’t wait to have a family. It’s twins, you know.”
“Twins?” Brad was having two more children? At his age? The sweat cooled on my skin, and I shivered.
It hadn’t been that he didn’t want more children. He hadn’t wanted them with me.
I leaned against the side of the stall. My post-orgasmic haze evaporated. All that was left was me, unworthy of even Brad Winner’s respect. Or his babymakers.
“Are you all right?” Hayley reached out a pale, trembling hand.
I straightened, my many years of practice pretending I was invulnerable kicking in. “I’m fine. How are you? Feeling any better?”
“Yeah.” She looked down at herself. “I’m kind of a mess.”
“Luckily, I’ve got my bag of tricks with me.” I patted my purse, an extra-long clutch with a chain strap.
“You’re the best.” She reached for me as if to pull me into a hug.
I backed away. “Let’s clean you up first.”
We went to the sink, and while Hayley gushed about the wedding, Barcelona, and her twins—she was a twin, too, and she was hoping for girls—I washed the lank tendrils that had been caught in the crossfire. I patted them dry with a paper towel, then reshaped them using a travel packet of coconut oil.
I had a new toothbrush and toothpaste in my bag, and I waited while Hayley brushed her teeth. God, to have teeth that white again.
I used baby wipes to get the stain out of her dress and to clean up the mascara tracks on her face. A little translucent powder smoothed out her skin, and a sweep of bronzer transformed her from a zombie back into a blushing bride. I finished up with a touch of my red lipstick and another dab of coconut oil for gloss.
When I was done, she checked herself in the mirror. “O-M-G, Carly! You’re a miracle worker! I look as good as I did before the wedding!”
“I imagine your stylist would disagree. But you look radiant.” I took a deep breath. “I can see how happy you are.”
She clutched my hands. “I am. So happy.” Her lips turned down. “I’m sorry for what Brad did to you. I hope you find love again.”
“Thank you. Though I intend to focus on my career for a while before I go looking for love.” Love had no place in my life anymore. Not when it could be so easily yanked away.
She flashed me a wry pout. “If that’s what you want.”
I’d been like her when I married Brad. Hopeful. Sure in love. I’d thought with the right partner, life would be easy. I supposed it had been. I’d never struggled for money. I’d been safe. And happy, for a while.
I was not about to ruin Hayley’s joy with a warning that happiness and love were fleeting, or that she should keep a backup plan for herself so when they ended, she’d have something for herself.
The bathroom door opened, and a young, dark-haired woman strode in. “There you are, Hayley. I was worried.”
When she turned her beautiful face to me, I gasped. “You’re Helen Choi. From that movie. From all the movies.” My friends and I had watched her entire catalog of rom-coms.
Her cheeks pinked as she smiled. “That’s me.”
“Helen. Meet Carly Rose. She’s the stylist who helped me with my wardrobe for this trip. She’s rescued me again.” Hayley waved at her face.
“I’ve been admiring your look all night,” Helen said, scanning my embroidered metallic jacquard gown from its plunging neckline to its tulle-overlaid A-line skirt. She shook my hand.
“Thank you. It has pockets.” I slipped my hands inside. There was just enough room for my business cards in one and my phone—the one that still wasn’t ringing—in the other.
“I love it!” Helen beamed her megawatt smile, the one she’d given her love interest in her latest film. “But are you all right, Hayley? You’ve been gone so long.”
“I’m better now, thanks to Carly.”
“Thanks for taking care of her,” Helen said. With a covetous look at my sparkly, rose-gold sandals, she held out her hand to Hayley and pushed open the door. “Let’s get you back to the party. It was lovely meeting you, Carly.”
Hayley held out a hand for me, and I let her tug me out of the bathroom.
Andrew waited outside with my glass of sparkling wine. Shoving his phone into the breast pocket of his blazer, he said, “I thought I was going to have to send in a scout.”
“We’re fine. Just a fashion crisis.” To Hayley, I whispered, “You’re okay?”
She squeezed my hand and let go. “I am. Thanks. Helen, meet Andrew Jones. We went to the same school. Now he’s a banker, but he makes these cool videos for kids too. Andrew, this is my friend Helen Choi.”
The wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “Your name sounds so familiar.”
I chuckled. “Of course she’s familiar. She was an Emmy nominee this year.”
Helen stuck out her hand. “It’s okay. Men rarely watch my films unless their date forces them. No one blows up, and I never need a stunt double.”
Andrew shook her hand, a gleam of interest in his eyes. Helen was gorgeous and much closer to his age. Was she single? A burn erupted in my stomach.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You should keep Carly in mind whenever you need a red-carpet style. I mean, look at her.” When he turned his gaze on me, the gleam turned into an inferno that ignited my cheeks.
“Do you have a card?” Helen asked.
“Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to. I’ll be dreaming of that gown all night.” She grinned.
I pulled an hourglass-shaped card from my pocket and handed it to her.
She snapped a photo with her phone. “In case I lose it. Mind if I take your photo to jog my memory?”
“Oh, uh, of course not. Andrew.” I beckoned him to my side.
“No.” He grinned. “She wants your face, not mine. Here, I’ll hold your bag.” He held out his hand. I passed it to him, and he didn’t say a word about how heavy it was. He tucked it under his arm.
I propped my hand on my hip and dipped my chin. Helen snapped my photo. “Thank you.”
“I’d be honored to offer you a consultation,” I said.
“I’ll text you.” She shot me a smile before she grabbed Hayley’s hand. “Let’s go dance.”
“I’ll be right there.” As Helen glided to the dance floor, Hayley gave Andrew a speculative look. He still held my purse.
“You don’t need to go looking for love, Carly,” she said. “It looks like it’s found you.”