Chapter 6
Nothing was sweeter than finally sitting down at a banquet table and kicking off one’s stilettos. Jamie heaved a sigh to end her life as she knocked back a glass of champagne and asked Etta to pour her another.
Weddings were an exhausting business. After the ceremony, they were hauled out for pictures while guests traveled ahead to the reception at Warner Manor.
Jamie thought she could travel as well after having her photos taken yet again, but Jenny informed her that nobody in the bridal party was allowed to even take one step away from the chapel until magazine photographers swept through and caught them in “casual” poses.
After that farce, they finally joined the welcoming reception, complete with cocktails – but not enough – and snacks.
Jamie was in charge of watching the gift table before going with Monique to the restroom to help her change shoes and fix her hair since the diamonds kept snagging.
By then, Monique was the happiest woman in the world, tears of joy flowing down her cheeks as she profusely thanked Jamie for everything she had done.
As sweet as that was, Jamie was more than happy to sit down for dinner.
Most of the other guests sat at circular tables, where waiters took their orders and ran into the main kitchen to fetch the meals of the day.
Etta ordered a steak, and Jamie asked for “anything that will make me not feel like pure death.” She got gourmet cheese ravioli in a delicate pesto sauce.
It tasted even better with pieces of Etta’s steak, which she unrepentantly stole.
The brides sat at a banquet table at the front of the ballroom.
The Warners sat to Helen’s right, while Monique’s small family joined her to her left.
There wasn’t enough room for anyone else, so Jamie and Etta were relegated to a table of honor not too far away.
Suited Jamie fine. She was tired of being an intricate part of this wedding.
She just wanted to drink champagne and get drunk on dinner before the dancing began.
Halfway through their meal, she was subjected to the speeches.
They heard from Helen’s father, a somber man with steel-gray hair and a gaunt expression.
Then Monique’s mother, a hawkish woman who sounded more spurned than honored to be there at her daughter’s grand wedding that nobody by the last name of Grant had to pay for.
Etta gave a short speech, congratulating the couple and expressing her desire that they have a long and loving marriage. Monique started crying again, Eve shoving a handkerchief across her family’s laps because nobody else bothered to anticipate a bride crying on her wedding day.
“I’ve never seen her this happy,” Etta said, as one of Helen’s friends spoke next. “It’s both strange and liberating. For her, that is.”
Jamie didn’t need details. She knew what kind of hell Monique had been through before meeting Helen. This was her ultimate happy ending. Good for her. Jamie needed another drink.
She was halfway through pouring more champagne for her and Etta when Monique stood up to make a surprise speech.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming to my – our – special day,” she said into the mic that was bigger than her grip.
“I never thought that such an honor like this would come.” Monique held back more tears, causing a ripple of adoration through the guests.
“My life has been an absolute whirlwind ever since Helen waltzed into it. I can’t imagine calling a greater woman my wife. ”
Even Jamie choked up at that – choked right on a piece of steak. Etta slapped her back before either one of them distracted the room from Monique’s speech.
“So many fantastic changes have occurred in my life in the several months Helen and I have been together. I know my future will be nothing but wonderful with her.” Monique bit her lip, but this time it wasn’t with tears in the back of her throat.
Monique looked adoringly down at her wife, puffing herself up for whatever she had to say.
“That’s why I want to announce something quite surprising.
I’ve been keeping a great secret for a few weeks now… yes, even from you, Helen.”
The mood shifted. Monique’s employees sat on the other side of Jamie, and they immediately began whispering and opening up their coin purses. One of them, a strawberry blond named June, looked quite smug. “You all better start coughing up,” she hissed. “I’m gonna be a rich woman in five minutes.”
Monique absorbed the tension like the professional she was. Helen took her hand and gazed into her visage. Etta draped her arm along the back of Jamie’s chair and leaned in. “This should be good,” she muttered into Jamie’s ear.
“While everyone is already gathered here to celebrate our marriage, they might as well be happy about something else.” Monique sucked in her breath, causing a tiny ripple of feedback through the mic. “I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry about this. Helen, I’m pregnant.”
Gasps took over the room. June smacked the woman next to her and demanded payment. Monique’s mother fanned herself while the Warner crew attempted to maintain carefully donned propriety – except for Eve, who downed the rest of her champagne after learning she was about to become an aunt.
Etta shot hot breath onto Jamie’s shoulder. “I thought that was the case.”
Sorry, I’m still in shock. Monique? Pregnant? Well, that explained a few things. No drinking. Clothes not fitting. Crying on the phone and getting randomly angry at Helen, of all people. “I have so many questions,” Jamie blurted. “Who’s the father?”
Etta ignored that. “At least that’s a mystery confirmed.”
“She told you?”
“No, but she told me that more than this wedding was changing her life.”
“She told me that too.” Jamie watched as Helen pulled her bride into her lap and embraced Monique.
Is it tacky to announce you’re pregnant at your wedding?
Jamie supposed the rich could get away with it.
I wonder if she was trying… Hadn’t she quipped about using a donor before the wedding?
Had Helen even known her bride had gone ahead with the plan?
That was the only way this made sense. Monique was gay… and monogamous! My head hurts.
“This changes a few things.” That was the last Etta spoke of the matter.
The reception continued with murmurs, photos, and dancing as the live band and singer finally got into the groove.
Jamie left her shoes at the table when Etta asked her to slow dance, and she wasn’t the only barefooted woman swaying to the music.
She was, however, the only woman who wasn’t Monique who danced with a woman like Etta Coleman.
Jamie could have fallen asleep against her shoulder by their final dance, Etta’s arms wrapped around her and chin resting atop her head. This is the most intimate we’ve been in a long time. Something coiled in Jamie’s body. It was probably all that champagne.
“I love you.” Etta’s fingers brushed through Jamie’s hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”
“To be fair, I’ve been busy too.” Jamie inhaled Etta’s new favorite perfume. “Although I’ve been busy with this silly wedding business. You’ve been busy with important… business.”
“Is that what it is? Feels like babysitting a bunch of suits and struggling to keep my investors and shareholders happy.” She pulled away at the end of the song. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit…”
Etta halted, gaze traveling over Jamie’s head and to the dance floor. When she turned, Jamie caught a well-to-do woman in a beige sheath dress looking back at Etta.
“Adele…” she said softly before the woman pulled away from the dancefloor. “No… can’t be…”
“Etta?”
She snapped out of her trance and returned to the banquet table. Jamie followed, not sure what was going on.
The wedding wound down. The few reporters allowed had a field day from both the festivities and Monique’s surprise announcement.
Jamie heard the headlines ready to run on the next edition.
“New Mrs. Warner Announces Coming of Newer Baby Warner.” “Extra-marital Or Extra-Adorable?” Jamie had one more duty to perform, and that was helping Monique get to the main foyer of the manor, where guests gathered to watch the tossing of the bouquet.
A hundred single women huddled at the bottom of the stairs.
They were all too well brought up to fight over the bouquet –, quite a few, including Eve and Kathleen, made a mad exodus so that thing wouldn’t come anywhere near them – but the expectation on their faces said that, whether they had lovers or not, they better be married by next year.
Jamie pushed into the front of the crowd. Not because she expected anything, but because she feared Monique standing on those stairs in those shoes.
She definitely did not expect a bouquet of roses to land right in her arms.
Women around her tsked and walked away, pretending that they didn’t care. Jamie stood, shocked, looking between the bouquet and Monique’s hopeful demeanor a few steps above her.
“Just toss it right into her hands, why don’t you?” Charlotte muttered beside Jamie. “Like throwing a bone to her ex-girlfriend…”
A photographer jumped in and flashed a bulb in Jamie’s face. Blinded, she stepped back, right into Charlotte.
“Give it three months at the most,” Monique quipped on her way by Jamie. “You’re welcome. Farewell!” She was off to a limousine with Helen, ready to hop a private plane to Europe for their honeymoon.
There wasn’t much to wait for after that. Once the wedding was over, Etta swept in to collect her girlfriend and usher her to their own limo so they could start the long drive home.
“I can finally relax,” Jamie said, slipping out of her shoes again. Etta rolled up all the windows, including the divider between them and the driver. “I’m so glad that’s over.” She wouldn’t dare bring up the bouquet. “Will be even more glad to get home.”