Chapter 22
22
“You’re invited!”
I glance up from my phone to see Claire standing in front of the conference room table, a bright smile illuminating her face. Asha and I are meeting with her and Graham this morning, but I’m so engrossed by the latest message in an email exchange that I don’t hear her come in. A lighting technician has double-booked himself for next weekend, and I’ve spent the past two days trying to convince him to stick with our account. At this point, I’ve promised him everything except nudes and homemade sourdough.
“What’s this?” I ask, closing my laptop and glancing down at the colorful piece of cardstock she’s extended toward me. The words “One Last Hoe Down!” are scrawled across an illustrated pair of cowboy boots.
“It’s a joint bachelor/bachelorette party!” she chirps. I must look befuddled because she quickly adds, “For me and Graham.”
“No, I know who it’s for,” I say quickly. “It’s just… not required to invite the planners to these types of things. You shouldn’t feel obligated.” What I don’t say is that wedding planners are supposed to keep a professional distance from clients, not fraternize with them outside of work. Not that I’ve been particularly successful in this en deavor thus far, given that I spent last night with the groom’s head between my thighs.
“We want you there!” she insists. My mind scrambles as I try to think of a sufficient excuse, but nothing comes. I scan the invitation quickly before noticing the date on the bottom. It’s for this Saturday night, a week before their wedding. New Year’s Eve.
The events of last New Year’s Eve flash across my mind’s eye. Lexi, Chloe, and I racing to Times Square so that Lexi could confess her love to Jake before he left the city for a world tour. I feel an ache of longing for the two of them. And suddenly the perfect excuse rolls off my tongue.
“You know what?” I exclaim a bit too loudly. “I just realized I can’t make it. My two best friends and I have an annual tradition of celebrating New Year’s together. They’re coming to Baltimore to celebrate.”
My chest tightens as I say the words out loud. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend the holiday with than Lexi and Chloe. And up until last month, I’d assumed I would. Even though we’re currently living in different cities, I’d figured it was a given that we would reunite to celebrate. But when I brought it up on the group text last month, Lexi said she was planning to spend New Year’s on tour with Jake, and Chloe mentioned going to L.A. to hang out with Riley. I can’t imagine she’d be willing to abandon her new girlfriend on arguably one of the most romantic nights of the year to come hang out with me and my engaged situationship.
“Bring them!” Claire insists. “Seriously, the more, the merrier.”
I open my mouth again to protest, but she holds up her hand to stop me.
“Listen, you don’t have to let me know right now. But we’d love to have you there. I know you and Graham have gotten to be close while I’ve been away.”
Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. If only you knew how close, I think. Even though I know Graham and Claire aren’t romantically involved, she’s easily my favorite client, and lying to her is starting to weigh on me. I know that Graham wanted to be the one to tell Claire the truth about us, but she’s been in town for days and he keeps coming up with fresh excuses to put it off. And now I feel like I can’t keep this secret a moment longer. If Graham isn’t willing to come clean, then I will.
“Actually, Claire, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Wait, before you do,” she says. She slides her chair a bit closer and dips her head forward so her eyes are level with mine. “There’s something I want to tell you too.” She takes a steadying breath, and my pulse quickens with apprehension.
“As you know, I like you a lot. Graham does too. And he trusts you. Which means I trust you.”
My stomach roils as I take in her open, earnest expression. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I’ve never felt less deserving of a person’s trust than I do of hers. I cross my arms tightly across my chest, hoping she can’t read the shame etched across my face.
“The truth is,” she says. She glances around the room quickly, confirming that we are truly alone, then drops her voice to a whisper.
“Graham and I aren’t really together. He’s marrying me as a favor, so that I can keep my job in late night.”
My mouth falls open. That… I didn’t see coming. I’m so taken aback by the unexpected confession that I don’t even need to feign a look of surprise.
Two pops of color appear on Claire’s cheeks, and I realize she’s misreading my genuine look of shock as disapproval.
“Please don’t think any less of me,” she says quickly. “I would never ask someone to marry me for a green card. This isn’t like, a Sandra Bullock movie. But Graham suggested it, and once he did, it felt impossible to say no. I mean, getting a job like this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A pipe dream at best, but even more so if you’re a woman. I’m one of two on the twelve-person writing staff as it is.”
My shoulders relax as I nod sympathetically. I know what it’s like to work in a male-dominated industry. Even though half of my graduating culinary school class were women, only a fraction will ever become head chefs in restaurants. I’ve watched friends spend years stuck on garde-manger while male colleagues with less experience worked their way up the line. At the end of the day, the culinary industry is still a man’s world. And I know comedy is the same way.
“I don’t think I’ll get another opportunity like this,” Claire continues, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her voice sound anything less than confident. “The fact that I landed this job in the first place is a small miracle. I can’t go back to being sexually harassed as a waitress. I can’t go back to the world of promoters refusing to book me on a stand-up show because they’ve ‘already got a woman,’ and after all, ‘if women were funny, wouldn’t there be more female comics?’” She shakes her head despairingly. “It’s exhausting.”
I straighten my shoulders, feeling a new surge of protectiveness over Claire. She has worked her butt off to get where she is, and despite the odds stacked against her, she’s making her dream a reality. And suddenly, I want nothing more than for her to succeed.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m having a bachelor party for a fake wedding,” Claire continues, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Honestly, I was so taken aback by her confession that I hadn’t really registered it. But now that she’s mentioned it…
“When Trudy suggested having the wedding at the Black-Eyed Susan, I knew I could sort of repay Graham for this enormous favor by helping promote the hotel. I have a respectable following on social media and so do a lot of my comedy and writing friends. My friend Dana says bachelorette party content gets a ton of traction. I figure the more opportunities we have to post about the wedding and tag the hotel, the more I can help to raise its profile.” She smiles faintly.
“Graham comes off as a bit of a curmudgeon, but no one has a bigger heart. He would do anything for anyone. The least I can do is try to do something good for him.”
She leans a bit closer and grins conspiratorially. “Also, I’ve been seeing this girl. A party in Baltimore is the perfect excuse to see her again.”
“You’re dating someone?” The surprises just keep on coming. At this point, I’m half expecting Oprah to materialize in the doorway, and announce that everyone on staff is also getting a brand-new car. “Does Graham know?”
Claire nods.
“To be honest, I think he’s been seeing someone too. He’s sporting a massive hickey on his neck that he keeps trying to pass off as a razor burn. Won’t tell me a thing about it, though. Not that it’s out of character for him. He’s never been one to kiss and tell. He is British, after all.”
Heat floods my cheeks as I remember the exact moment I gave him that particular love bite. I hope it isn’t written all over my face.
She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Graham has never been into relationships. It’s one of the reasons he insisted this wedding would be no big deal. He kept saying he has no plans to date anyone seriously, and that I wouldn’t be putting him out in the least. The man thinks he’s protecting himself by being so anti-romance. I just hope that one day, he’ll let go of all his hang-ups and allow himself to fall in love. Graham is the best guy I know. If there’s anyone who deserves to find their soulmate, it’s him.”
Despite the kindness of her sentiment, it evokes a nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach. Graham keeps insisting that he has no interest in a serious relationship. But his words never seem to match his actions when we’re together. Is it really that inconceivable that he’d let himself fall for me?
There’s a larger issue at hand, though. If Claire finds out that we’re seeing each other, she’s not going to want to go through with this wedding and stand in the way of his happiness. And I can’t let that happen. I can’t be someone who ruins a wedding because she’s sleeping with the groom. Claire’s dream can’t be destroyed because of me.
Still, there’s another question plaguing me.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “You could have just gone on with the wedding and never said a word.”
Claire presses her lips together.
“The thing is,” she says slowly, “as the wedding date approaches and the reality of what we’re doing sets in, I can’t help but wonder if I’m making a huge mistake.” Her eyes are wide and glassy as they search mine.
“Tell me the truth,” she says softly. “Am I doing the wrong thing marrying Graham?”
My mouth turns to sandpaper as I struggle to think of a reply. But before I can utter a word, I hear a rustling sound behind me. Turning, I see Graham and Asha standing in the doorway of the conference room.
“Oh good, we’re all here,” Asha says. She slides into one of the upholstered chairs, patting the seat beside her to indicate Graham should sit. “I can’t believe this is one of our last meetings.”
The wedding is only two weeks away, and today we’re finalizing the seating chart. After this, we’ll mostly be working on final behind-the-scenes details that won’t require too much interaction with the bride and groom. The bride and groom. The placeholder term no longer feels appropriate. Claire and Graham aren’t just a faceless couple: they’re two people who have inadvertently become vital parts of my life. Claire isn’t the only one who’s starting to unravel in the face of the soon-approaching reality.
Once we’ve finished the chart, ensuring that Claire’s handsy uncle will be seated far away from the bar, and her two friends, an on-and-off again couple with a tendency to sleep together at weddings and have a blowout argument afterward, are sitting on opposite ends of the room, Asha excuses herself to take a phone call, leaving me alone with Graham and Claire. As soon as she leaves the room, Claire turns to face Graham.
“I’ve invited Ali to the bachelor party,” she announces.
Graham’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought we agreed that wasn’t a good idea,” he says slowly.
“Well, you’ve been overruled,” Claire replies. “Now tell her she has to come.”
Graham’s eyes are wide as they swing to mine, and I can tell he’s searching my face for a reaction. But before he can offer any further words of protest, I give him a reassuring smile.
“No one loves a party more than I do. I wouldn’t miss it.”
I’ll give it to Claire: Pbr, the Western-themed bar that’s smack in the middle of the Power Plant entertainment complex, practically screams “Ideal Bachelorette Party Destination.” The only directive the interior decorator must have received was “cowboys and beer,” since the walls of the bar are decorated with Corona ads, antlers, and cowboy headshots. Claire asked the guests to come dressed in “Wild West chic” attire, even though this place is about as authentically Western as a Texas Roadhouse. Still, I’ve gamely accessorized my black party dress with the bedazzled pink cowboy boots I purchased for the Eras Tour and haven’t worn since.
Claire’s the first person I see when I step through the doorway of the bar. She’s standing in the center of the dance floor, wearing a knockoff white Stetson with an attached veil and pretending to gallop on one of those horses on a stick. I swear, this woman is a national treasure. Once again, I feel a pang of guilt for sleeping with her fiancé, even if their romance isn’t real.
She squeals when she sees me, dropping the stick horse and throwing both arms around me.
“You made it!” she says. “I’m so happy! Let’s go get you a drink.”
She leads me over to the bar area, where Graham is leaning against the scuffed wooden bar top, nursing a beer and looking ridiculously sexy in a worn denim shirt and red tie, topped with a gray vest and a brown felt cowboy hat. There’s a star-shaped pin that reads “Sheriff.” The grumpy expression on his face is only serving to enhance the overall look.
“If you’re here, who’s minding the saloon?” I ask.
Graham grunts. “Claire chose my outfit.”
“And he loves it!” Claire laughs, nudging him with one shoulder, and he gives her an indulgent half smile. I can’t believe I didn’t notice their sibling-like body language earlier. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder how no one here has taken note of the fact that they never kiss. The days leading up to a wedding are usually when couples are at the peak of their PDA threshold.
Even though he hasn’t said a word about it, I’d expected he’d talk to Claire before tonight. At this point, I’m not sure what he’s waiting for. But based on the casual, if slightly glazed way she’s looking at me, it’s clear she’s still totally in the dark.
Claire hands me a shot of whiskey before tapping her own shot glass against mine.
“Cheers!” she says, then throws hers back with a grimace. I toss the whiskey down my throat in one swift motion, barely noticing the way it burns going down.
“I’m going to do a round and say hello to the guests,” she tells me. “Try and get him to socialize?” I give her a smile, following her with my gaze as she flits off. I order myself a drink, then turn back to Graham.
“You still haven’t told her?”
Graham’s face darkens.
“I’m going to tell her. I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
“And what moment is that? When you’re walking down the aisle?”
I pull on one of my curls, twisting it around my finger. This can’t go on much longer. I know this isn’t the time or place, but I wish I understood why Graham was dragging his feet.
Speaking of Graham, a quick glance around the room confirms my suspicions: almost everyone here seems to be Claire’s guest. I temporarily shove my frustration aside and change the subject.
“Didn’t you invite any of your friends to this blessed event?”
He shrugs. “Most of them are back in London. But a few of the lads will be in for the wedding.”
I give him a wry smile. “Will I be reuniting with Alfie?”
Graham’s mouth rises in a half smile at the mention of his former roommate. “Believe it or not, we haven’t kept up.” He takes a small sip of his beer. “Are you still close with the women from your sorority?”
I pull a face. “Eh. I’ve been to more weddings and bachelorette parties than I can comfortably afford, but past that, we don’t really keep up much outside of liking each other’s social media posts. Plus, I’ve had to block a few girls who tried to recruit me to their MLMs.”
Graham chokes out a laugh. “What about your friends from New York? I thought you told Claire you were bringing them tonight?”
My face falls. God, what I wouldn’t do to share a round of margaritas with the other two musketeers right now.
“It’s… possible that was a tiny fib,” I say. “They’re otherwise engaged this evening.” I bite my bottom lip as the poor choice of words slips through my mouth. Mercifully, the bartender hands me the Jack and Coke I ordered, and I shove the frosted glass into my face before I can say anything else I’ll regret.
I stare up at him, suddenly noticing the swollen purple crescents beneath his eyes. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”
Graham shrugs. “Between trying to manage the hotel and working my day job, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. The social media attention from Claire’s friends has certainly brought new followers to the hotel’s Instagram account. But most of them aren’t local, so I doubt any of that is translating into actual guests.” Poor Graham. He’s trying to do it all, and from the looks of it, it’s killing him.
He blows out a sigh. “We gave it our best. But I’m starting to think it might all be too little, too late.” His face looks so morose. Before I can overthink it, I wrap my arms around him.
“It’s not too late,” I whisper into his ear. “I see what you’ve put into restoring the hotel. You’re amazing. You’ve got this.”
Graham pulls away to study me, his eyes shiny behind his glasses.
“I appreciate your faith,” he says quietly. “But the sooner we all face reality, the better off we’ll be.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and then disappears into the crowd.