Chapter Seven
Remy
“So, let’s all lift our glasses and offer the happy couple an early congratulations! Love you, guys!”
Glasses clink with one another as my baby sister Winnie wraps up her rehearsal dinner speech, and Charlotte and I lean toward each other to kiss.
Less than twenty-four hours from now, this gorgeous woman is going to be my wife.
Mrs. Winslow. Damn, that has a nice ring to it.
I smile as I pull away, and Charlotte returns the expression, but the warmth of her happiness stops just short of reaching her eyes.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her toward me, my lips skimming the surface of her ear as I whisper, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, seeming to clear it of something before turning to place a sweet kiss to the hinge of my jaw. “Of course. By tomorrow night, I’m going to be your wife .”
My smile renews at her use of one simple word, and she rubs at the little dimple that’s surely formed in my left cheek. It’s just a tiny divot, basically imperceptible to the untrained eye, but Charlotte’s said since the day she met me that it’s one of her favorite features of mine.
The fancy restaurant my mom rented out in Manhattan is filled with our nearest and dearest, here to eat and drink and celebrate our impending nuptials, but I can only seem to pay attention to her.
I clasp my hand around her wrist and hold it up to my face, cherishing the way it feels to have her touch me like that on a night as special as this.
It’s been a long road for me—growing up—but I couldn’t be more ready to commit myself to building a family of my own and to melding it with the family my mom already created.
“And I’m going to be your husband.” I playfully waggle my brows. “I can’t fucking wait.”
Charlotte giggles and presses her body up and into me, placing her lips on mine once again. Jude groans from my side, five chairs down, seated between Flynn and Ty. He feigns disgust and teasingly slams his head onto the table. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick. Is anyone else going to be sick? The romance floating around this room is quite literally nauseating.”
Always the fucking jokester.
I flip Jude the bird, still kissing my soon-to-be-wife, and her responding snort vibrates against my mouth. By the time I pull away from her pliant lips, Aunt Paula is chiming in on my baby brother’s antics.
“Oh, stop it, Jude,” she says with a laugh, reaching over to fix my Uncle Brad’s tie. “They’re getting married. They’re in love. This is how it’s supposed to be.”
“And if you’re really lucky like me, it’ll still be that way thirty-three years down the road,” Brad says, grabbing his wife by the shoulders, spinning her around in her chair, and leaning her over in his lap so he can press a huge, passionate kiss to her lips.
Winnie giggles and claps, looking like a younger carbon copy of our mom who is doing the same right next to me.
Flynn wolf-whistles.
But of course, per usual, Ty joins Jude in the repulsed facade. “Oh my God!” he yells out in feigned dramatics. “My eyes!”
“Don’t challenge me, boys,” my uncle retorts on a laugh. “At tomorrow’s reception, I won’t hesitate to get your aunt out on that dance floor and grind on her like I’m Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing .”
“Yes, please!” my aunt adds, giggling and clapping her hands in theatrical excitement. “I hope we get to do the lift, too! Surely the videographer can record it for us?”
My uncle cracks up at his wife’s words, but before I can offer a sarcastic retort, Charlotte squeezes my elbow to get my attention. Instantly, I tear my eyes away from the display of our typical family banter to face her.
She’s chewing her lip, and once again, I start to worry a little that something isn’t right.
“What’s going on, Char? You don’t seem like yourself.”
She shakes her head again, rubbing her hand up and down my arm a few times in comfort. “No, I’m okay, I swear. I just…need to talk to you about something after dinner.”
My eyebrows pull together at the seemingly ominous statement.
We need to talk are never good words in a relationship, let alone the night before the wedding.
“Need to talk? About what?” I find myself questioning a little harshly. It’s not my intent, but five stupid words play over and over again in my head uninvited.
You will experience great heartbreak.
You will experience great heartbreak.
You will experience great heartbreak.
That crazy fortune-teller’s bullshit prophecy burns inside my chest like reflux that won’t respond to an antacid.
I don’t want to care—I thought I had convinced myself not to care—but I can’t stop myself from staring deep into Char’s eyes and wondering if she could ever break my heart.
“Remy, it’s no big deal,” she assures. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. It’s…nothing. Good news, maybe . But we don’t need to worry about it right now.”
I laugh a little, its contents lacking in true humor. “Come on, baby. You know I’m not going to be able to let this go now… without knowing what it’s about?” I shake my head, reach down into her lap, and grab her hand. “No. Uh uh. We need to talk about whatever it is now.”
“Remy!” she whisper-yells through an incredulous laugh as I gently tug her out of her seat and lead her away from the table. “What are you doing? We can’t leave! This is our rehearsal dinner!”
“The dinner is pretty much over,” I answer as I pull her along behind me, her little legs moving quickly in her heels to keep up with my long ones. “Everyone is just bullshitting now.” There’s a small titter in the crowd, I can tell, but the Two Stooges confirm pretty quickly that what’s going on and what it looks like is going on are two very different things.
“Where ya going, Rem?” Ty booms through a laugh.
“Ay-ohhhh! Is there about to be a little prewedding hanky-panky?” Jude chimes in, a resolute smack I can only assume is Ty’s hand meeting his in a high five following right behind. “Love is certainly in the air tonight!”
Christ. Leave it to my baby brothers to try to make shit awkward for everyone but themselves.
I glance back to Charlotte to see her cheeks turning beet red, no doubt thinking about her parents, who are still sitting at the table and listening to Jude and Ty’s inappropriate jousting.
She’s a grown woman—I can attest to that—but I don’t think, at twenty-two years old, she’s fully acclimated to her parents hearing direct references to her sex life.
I, on the other hand, am related to Jude and Ty. Enough said.
I glance from my bride-to-be to Flynn as we’re exiting the room, and he gives me a nod of affirmation. He’ll take care of business for me— aka kick Jude’s and Ty’s asses. Which, honestly, could be metaphorical. Could be reality. It’s truly a toss-up.
Charlotte follows me through the door, just as Jude’s oof sounds resoundingly through the room and out into the hall where we are, and it’s funny enough to me that it almost pulls me out of my worried thoughts.
Apparently, that ass-kicking wasn’t a metaphor…
“Always, always, always the asshole.” I can hear Uncle Brad say, his voice trailing off the farther away we get. My mom’s laughter inevitably follows because even the woman who birthed him knows it’s true.
Still focused on having a moment alone with Charlotte, I lead us into a quiet, vacated side hallway of the large restaurant and turn around to face her head on.
She glances over her shoulder, her cute little white rehearsal dinner dress strap threatening to slide off her shoulder.
I right it back into place and then grab her by the tops of her arms and square her to face me, my expression softening the gentle manhandling with a smile.
“Okay, baby. Let’s have it. What do we need to talk about?”
She considers me closely for a minute and then finally takes a deep breath, determination making her eyes narrow slightly.
“Okay…well. I’m just going to say it.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
“I…well, you know I had that presentation with the California group on the night of your bachelor party?”
I nod again.
“All right. Well, that night, my boss mentioned to me that I’d really impressed everybody and that she wouldn’t be surprised if they offered me a position. One that would include a pretty big promotion from my current position,” she begins to explain. “And she was right. The…the next day, they ended up calling me to discuss how well I’d done and offered me a job in California. Working for them.”
“Okay…” I pause, trying to wrap my head around her words. “That’s…pretty far away. I mean, baby, it’s great you got the job offer, but obviously, that’s not going to work for us. Our home is in—”
“I-I took it,” she blurts out, cutting me off. “I took the job. In California.”
I blink. Once, twice, three times, and then laugh. I mean, we literally just talked about this the other day, and I told her I couldn’t picture myself living anywhere other than New York.
But Charlotte doesn’t laugh with me, and it becomes clear that she’s serious.
“Are you kidding me right now, Char? It’s the night before our wedding.”
“I know.” She rubs at her face harshly and then meets my eyes again. “And I’m sorry, Rem. The timing isn’t great, but the opportunity is. I’d be heading up an entire campaign for a really high-profile client there. Making the decisions, leading the team. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of for my career, and you can work from anywhere.”
I want to tell her she’s still young. That she hasn’t been out of college that long and has hardly had any time to dream or envision what she wants for her career.
I also want to tell her this is fucking insane. Even if I can work from California, that doesn’t mean that the whole rest of our lives isn’t here.
But I try to control my thoughts and my words.
This is Charlotte. My fiancée. The woman I’m going to marry in less than twenty-four hours.
I don’t want to spend the night before our wedding in a big blow-out fight.
My head throbs as I think about my brothers and sister and Mom and aunt and uncle, all here in New York. About the role I’ve had as the de facto head of the family since my dad left so many years ago. Aside from my mom and my uncle, I do most of the looking out for my siblings.
I don’t want to be an asshole. Charlotte is smart and capable, and she deserves the opportunity to excel. But California? Does she really need to go there to achieve her career goals?
New York is the fucking city of opportunity, dammit. People move here from all across the globe because this city, the one we’re in, makes dreams come true.
I steady my voice, trying to make sure I speak calmly and supportively. “Baby, I’m so proud of you. Really, truly proud of everything you’ve worked for because you deserve it. But how do you know California is the answer? Our support system is here. The company you’ve been working with since you graduated is here, along with a million other headhunting firms. We don’t need to leave everything behind for you to soar. You can fly here. I know you can. Take the time to think about it, and I think you’ll agree with me.”
“But, Rem, this chance is now . They’re offering me something that someone my age would never— should never—get to do.”
I hear her. I really do, but this decision feels impulsive and rash.
“I don’t think you’re thinking it all the way through, Char, I’m sorry,” I say, my words softened by the tender tone in my voice. “You’re young. There are so many things that are going to come to you, and they’re going to come soon. If you just stay here .”
“Remy—”
I shake my head, too fucking overwhelmed, and cut her off before she can continue. “No, Charlotte. No.”
She jerks her chin back into her chest, and her eyes glisten with moisture. “No? What do you mean, no ?”
Frustration over the timing of this conversation—on a night when we’re supposed to be drunk with happiness—tightens my chest and threatens to make it explode.
First, that stupid fortune-teller, and now, Charlotte. I’m tired of everyone trying to mess with the plan . I just want to get married and be happy, for fuck’s sake!
“I mean we’re not moving to California. We’re getting married tomorrow, just like we said we would, and we’ll figure out a way to make the same opportunities in your career here. My brothers. My sister. My mom, my uncle Brad and aunt Paula, your parents, our friends—they’re all here.”
“Remy—”
Upset, I cut her off again, even though I know she deserves better. I just can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now or that she decided to take the job without even discussing it with me.
“Charlotte, no.” I shake my head. “We’re not just deciding on some whim to leave our entire lives behind, and there’s no way I’m going to let you move out there without me.”
Her eyes widen, shock evident, and my heart threatens to pound its way outside of my chest.
I hate this. I hate fighting with her.
I reach up and grab her by the jaw as tears form in the corners of her eyes.
Fuck me , this is not how I pictured the night before my goddamn wedding going.
“Listen to me, baby,” I whisper softly, taking a gulp to make sure the earnestness of my next words is received. “I love you.”
She nods and then responds, her voice quivering slightly. “I love you too.”
“Right. So, let’s start there. Let’s get married tomorrow and start our lives together, here, with our family and friends. And then, I promise, baby, you and I, we’ll fight together to get you wherever you want to go, career or otherwise.”
She nods again, but her whole body shakes so hard it feels as if her face is going to slip right out of my hands.
I tighten my grip and pull her closer, needing the confirmation only she can give me. “Okay?” I question again.
“Okay.” Her lips vibrate as tears threaten to spill from her eyes, and I pull her even closer, pressing my lips to hers and speaking directly against them. “We’re going to be happy, Char. I promise.”
Our lips together, I sweep my tongue into her mouth, drinking deep as a means to soothe the ragged edges of my nerves. She returns the sentiment, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders and pressing her body completely into mine.
I’m just starting to get some semblance of control over my emotions when two obviously drunk voices call out from the entrance to the hall.
“There you are!” Ivy, one of Charlotte’s best friends, singsongs.
“We’ve been looking all over for you,” the other member of their trio, Harper, adds.
“Come on,” Ivy says, her laughter rolling down the hallway toward us a millisecond before her feet. I tuck my face into Charlotte’s throat and breathe deeply. What I wouldn’t fucking give not to be getting interrupted right now. “Save the lovey-dovey stuff for tomorrow night, you crazies! Tonight, you’re ours, Char!”
“Yeah,” Harper agrees. “Time with the groom is over. The next time you see each other will be at the end of the aisle.”
The idea of stepping away from Charlotte right now and slinking off to our respective bride and groom hotel suites at the Waldorf seems positively fucking dreadful.
But I know it’s one of the traditions she felt really strongly about us doing when she was planning everything, so I do it for her.
I pull away, placing one more tender kiss to her lips and then stepping back to look into her beautiful eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. I’ll be the one in the tux.”
She nods, swallows, and it looks like she has to work hard at pasting a smile to her face, and then finally, she lands on one that looks half genuine. “And I’ll be in the dress,” she says, voice a little too quiet for my liking, but even though it’s not the best sense of calm I’ve ever felt, I take it as my cue to move along.
Though, I press a deep kiss to her lips before I do.
“Love you,” I whisper against her mouth and then turn back toward Harper and Ivy. “I guess she’s all yours, ladies.”
They jump up and down, clapping their hands as they descend on Charlotte like a tiny swarm of bees.
She giggles a little, and it’s that final sound from my fiancée that releases some of the tension that’s managed to tighten my chest.
Squaring my shoulders, I head toward the end of the hall, back to the inside of the restaurant, where my brothers are probably waiting for me.
Tomorrow, Charlotte will be my wife, and all of this turmoil will have been like nothing but a bad dream.