Chapter 16 #2
When she’d finished blow-drying, she found the robe Raffi had mentioned, pulling the soft weight around her shoulders with a sigh. It was the kind of robe that made her want to curl up and never take it off.
Then she checked herself out. Now this was a look.
Her hair turned out glossy, bouncy—thanks to Raffi’s unfair talent in picking out hair products.
Her makeup was mostly gone, but a touch remained so she had a nice, natural look going.
And wrapped in that robe, which skimmed the top of her feet.
She cinched the belt tight, the material smooth against her skin—a reminder that she was entirely, completely naked underneath.
She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall. At first she didn’t see Raffi, but then she caught him in the kitchen, arranging food on plates, concentration and a touch of panic painting his face. He had gotten them sandwiches, it appeared, and salads in the time she’d spent washing up.
“I didn’t know if you ate meat,” he said as if in mid-thought. “So I got a turkey and a vegetarian from The Parker’s room service, but you can have either.”
Ani’s heart swelled, and a low, steady heat glowed in her chest. It was such a simple thing, really. A sandwich. But the fact that he had thought about it, thought about her, made something settle inside her in a way she hadn’t expected.
She also hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now—for food, sure, but maybe for this, too. For someone noticing the small things.
Then he looked up at her and froze, taking in the sight of her freshly showered. His eyes sparked with appreciation before he blinked it away and turned back to his preparations.
Ani pretended not to notice, leaning casually against the cool counter. “Turkey sounds good to me, unless the vegetarian happens to have a big slab of mozzarella? Can’t say no to that.”
Raffi’s smile grew. “It’s your lucky day. The veggie special today was mozzarella pesto. Kind of jealous, to be honest. I should have gotten two of them.”
“We can switch.”
Raffi scoffed. “You kidding me? Miss Wedding Planner, my guest, gets what she wants. Whatever she wants.”
Crimson crept to her cheeks. Whatever she wants. He was a spoiler, my God, and she liked it.
“Speaking of,” he said. Then he gestured toward the TV in the other room. On the screen was the opening frame of The Wedding Planner.
“All queued up and ready to go.”
She closed her eyes a second longer than a blink to take it in. “This is really sweet, Raffi. I just want you to know…I appreciate it.”
He did the thing where he paused again, his hands stilling on the counter, as if needing a moment to soak up her words. Then he said, “After the morning you had, I figure it’s the least I can do.”
He shifted his weight, reaching for a bottle on the counter and running his thumb along the label in an absent motion. “Wine? Or is it too early?”
Ani didn’t drink much, but somehow, a glass of cold wine sounded lovely at the moment.
“Only if it’s ?,” she said. “The rest of the stuff in Napa is trash.” She couldn’t even say that without breaking, and her smile caught on Raffi’s face, too.
“One sauv blanc, coming right up.”
Raffi poured for both of them, then brought the plates and drinks to the coffee table in front of the TV.
Ani followed his lead, taking a seat on the beige couch.
The cushions rose around her, pulling her in with a slow give.
The whole scene felt strangely domestic—easy in a way that made her stomach tighten.
He flipped on the movie, and Ani took a long sip of her wine.
Cool and refreshing, with a little fruitiness that lingered on her tongue.
? really did have something special here.
She took a renewed interest in helping out Raffi with his marketing.
It was funny, she wasn’t so great at marketing herself, but touting someone else’s product came much easier to her.
The opening credits rolled and the familiar music of up-tempo early 2000s soft pop began as Ani took her first bite of the sandwich. The flavors hit all at once, and she had to voice it. “What the hell is in this?”
Raffi sat up straight, alarmed. “What? Is there something wrong? An allergen? A fingernail?”
Ani laughed. “I meant ‘what the hell’ in a good way. Is this God’s pesto? I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
He put out his hand. “Okay, you can’t call it ‘God’s pesto’ and not give me a taste.”
She raised the sandwich toward his mouth, pushing into inappropriate territory. “Be my guest.”
She was feeding Raffi Garabedian a mozzarella sandwich.
She watched as his teeth sank into the bread, and she had several impure thoughts about what else she’d like those teeth grazing against.
Then he moaned, which only intensified her visions of his mouth against her. After a couple of chews, he said, “Damn, I’ve got to order this next time.”
Ani concentrated on slowing her breathing and distracted herself by watching the little-kid version of J.Lo carefully arranging Barbies on the screen.
When the camera panned to the little girl holding up the bride and groom dolls, Raffi pointed to the TV and said, “Hey, that’s you!”
Ani shrugged, but she couldn’t help the way her smile grew. “Honestly, not too far off.”
They ate and watched, and Ani relished how much Raffi was getting into the film. She had it memorized, too, and enjoyed overreacting to the big moments and character introductions.
Then, in the scene where J.Lo and Matthew McConaughey met at a San Francisco outdoor movie and the mood was quiet and romantic, Ani felt her eyes growing heavy.
They closed once, then fluttered open as the couple on-screen shed their jackets.
Raffi murmured, “You know this is fiction because no one would willingly remove their outer layers in Golden Gate Park. Can’t even look at them without a secondhand shiver. ”
“Mm-hmm,” she agreed, her voice soft with drowsiness. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she instinctively leaned into the nearest source of warmth—solid, steady, and impossibly comfortable.
When she woke, McConaughey was smiling like the happiest fool in the Civic Center, realizing Mary wasn’t married. Why had Raffi fast-forwarded…?
And then, Ani realized she was pressed up against Raffi, his arm draped around her. She felt cocooned, safe, and absurdly comfortable. But also, holy shit, she’d fallen asleep on him?
She rubbed her eyes. “Oh my God. Sorry, didn’t realize how tired I was.”
Raffi turned toward her, his voice thick and soothing. “It’s okay. I wanted to keep you upright, just in case. I hope you don’t mind…” He rubbed her arm quickly once with his hand.
“I don’t at all. It’s, um, comfortable.”
“Yeah. Comfortable,” he said, although she could hear him swallowing.
Afraid to break the spell of Raffi holding her tight, Ani didn’t move a muscle or say another word, and they both quietly watched the climax of the movie, as Matthew McConaughey rushed through San Francisco in search of his one true love.
When the two main actors embraced and shared their kiss at last, Ani had to focus extra hard on not moving, and she felt Raffi stiffen, too.
She wanted it, though. If Raffi were to swoop in and kiss her, she’d do it. She’d kiss him. Caution be damned, she wanted this man. That was the moral of the movie, right? You can’t fight your true feelings.
But Ani was also a little coward and could not find it in herself to make the first move. So instead she sat there, frozen, Raffi’s protective arm around her, while the two of them watched a different couple make out on-screen.
If they weren’t going to kiss, maybe they could talk, because Ani needed to know something.
“Do you believe in this stuff?” she asked.
“What? Leaving your fiancé at the altar is a good idea?”
“No, you know. Love. All that.” Ani’s voice cracked only the tiniest bit when she said love.
“I never did. Life seems too random and cruel for something so pure. Like if you skip ahead ten years, J.Lo is going to be throwing vases at Matthew McConaughey’s head and he’s going to be doing that crazy smile-shout thing back at her, making all kinds of accusations.”
Ani blinked at him, torn between laughing and being slightly horrified. “That’s…kind of terrible?”
“Well, that’s the example I’ve seen.”
“Your parents didn’t get along?”
He laughed, an actual loud, scoffing laugh.
“That’s an understatement. They always fought, but after my brother died, they said some pretty unforgivable things to each other, so my mom just…
left. She spends most of her time in Europe, Armenia, and Lebanon, and if we’re lucky, she’ll come around once a year for the holidays. ”
That. Was. Horrible. She couldn’t even imagine. His brother died. His father maligned him, and his mother abandoned him. She felt this sinking feeling in her stomach for Raffi, for his loneliness, for his years of pain.
“Jesus.”
“Yep. So, I don’t know. Tough to believe in the power of love after that. It skipped my household anyway.”
“I don’t even—I’m so sorry.”
He squeezed her once. “Don’t feel too sorry for me. I have plenty. I’m grateful for it, too.”
“Yeah, but love. Kind of important.”
“Well, what about you? Do you believe in all this?” He waved at the screen.
Ani exhaled, glancing at the rom-com still playing, at the sweet ending where everything wraps up neatly in a bow.
Did she believe in it? The grand, all-consuming, meant-to-be kind of love?
“Not that particular story necessarily, although I’d like to think Mary and Steve were still having mind-blowing sex ten years on. ”
He laughed, a happy, surprised one this time. And she liked it. She wanted Raffi to laugh like that instead of the sad, angry version.