Holiday Wedding (Holiday Romance-Spicy Version #2)

3

Tuesday, December 10

14 days until the wedding

Gwen

The airport is packed, filled with the frantic energy of thousands of people desperate to make it home for the holidays. Lines to check in and get through security snake down hallways and around corners. Piles of luggage wait to be loaded onto conveyor belts. Angry passengers argue with ticket agents over delayed flights.

“Geez,” I tell Alvina, one of my best friends, raising my voice to be heard over the near-constant flight announcements and the noise of the crowd. “It’s still a couple of weeks until Christmas. I didn’t think it would be so busy yet.”

She jumps back to avoid having her foot run over by a passing suitcase. “Me either. It’s a madhouse.”

“That’s what you get for traveling during the holidays,” says a gruff voice behind us. We spin around to find Wayne standing there, rumpled and frowning as usual. He points to the enormous Christmas tree in the center of the lobby. The illuminated star on top reaches toward the arched ceiling high over our heads. “They’ve had that thing up since September.”

“Wayne!” I cry out and rush to give him a hug, which he begrudgingly accepts. I’d been angry when Caleb told me Wayne would join us, but now that he’s here I’m happy to see my friend.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pats my arm. “Good to see you.” His eyes shift over my head to Alvina. “You too.”

She nods back and smiles.

I step away and swing my gaze between them. “What? No snarky exchange? You two are being awfully civil to each other.” Usually, they don’t get along, exchanging barbs and snide comments like it’s an Olympic sport.

Before they can answer, something strange catches my attention. I bring my nose to Wayne’s jacket and inhale deeply. I shift closer, sniffing his shoulders and up his neck.

He freezes, eyeing me suspiciously. “Why are you smelling me like a dog?”

Baffled, I straighten and search him. Wayne’s in his early fifties, just like Alvina. He’s got sharp gray eyes and short brown hair, touched with silver at his temples. He looks the same as always, but something is different.

“You don’t stink.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows slash together, and his voice rises.

“I mean, you don’t smell like usual—”

“Gwen…” He says my name as if I’m going down a dangerous path and he’s giving me one last chance to turn around.

“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t smell like you usually do. Like cigarettes.”

“Oh.” He relaxes, his shoulders dropping to their normal position. “That’s because I quit.”

“You did?” I can’t keep the shock off my face.

“Yeah.” He lifts his chin. “A week ago. Haven’t had a puff since.”

“Wow.” My eyebrows rise. “I did not see that coming.” Wayne is distinctive for his dry wit and the cigarette that’s always clutched in his hand.

“What? People change.” He rises to his whole five feet, seven inches, indignation flashing in his eyes.

“People, yes. You, no.” When a shadow of hurt crosses his face, I quickly amend to say, “At least I didn’t think you could, but clearly I was wrong.” I sigh a relieved breath, glad I won’t have to worry about him getting emphysema.

“Wow. It’s a Christmas miracle. You know I’m happy. I’ve been asking you to give it up for ages.”

“I know. I know,” he grumbles.

“How’re you doing it?” Statistics from medical school pop up in my head, and they aren’t good. Less than 10 percent of people who attempt to stop smoking are successful. “It might be hard.” I don’t want to rain on his parade, but maybe I can help? Offer some advice? “There are pills and other things—”

“No need.” He holds up his hand, stopping me. “I’ve got this.” Wayne opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, showing off a piece of mint blue gum.

I wrinkle my nose at the sight. “First of all, eww. Second of all, what is that?”

He sucks it back into his mouth and proceeds to chew loudly, smacking his lips together. “Nicotine gum. It helps with the cravings.”

“That’s great. I’m proud of you.” I beam at him, hopeful he’ll beat the odds and stay off the cigarettes. If anyone can do it, it’s Wayne. He’s the most bull-headed person I know. “Isn’t that wonderful, Alvina?”

She gives us a soft smile. “It is.”

Sharp-eyed Wayne zeroes in on me. “Are you wearing a…fanny pack?” he asks incredulously. “Didn’t those go out of style in the Eighties?”

Of all people, I’m not taking fashion criticism from him. Wayne wears jeans, a T-shirt, and a plain jacket most days. The one time he said he was going to “dress up” he had arrived in the same outfit as usual, except he traded the T-shirt for a button-down flannel shirt.

“No,” I answer, clasping my newest purchase. My fingers dig into the brown imitation leather. I tighten the nylon strap that holds it close to my body. “It’s a waist bag. My old purse was so worn that one of the straps broke. I got this to replace it. These are the new hot fashion item. I read all about it in a magazine.” I lift my chin, proud to be ahead of a trend for once. Most of my life is spent in scrubs, so I rarely have reason to feel fancy, but this bag makes me walk a little taller, swish my hips a little more, just so it can sway with my movement.

“I don’t care who wrote about it,” declares Wayne, “that, my friend, is a fanny pack.”

“It is not!” My voice gets louder as I argue with him. Sometimes hanging out with Wayne reminds me of being with my younger brother, Teddy. He brings out the angsty teenager in me.

Wayne addresses Alvina. “Back me up here. Is that or is it not a fanny pack?”

I beseech her with my eyes, begging her to agree with me.

She sweeps her gaze over me and declares, “It’s a fanny pack.”

“Traitor,” I mouth silently to her, but she simply frowns in response, shaking her head like I’m the one who should be ashamed.

An announcement overhead calls our flight number. “We’d better get going,” I tell the two of them, not minding the interruption. The security line takes twice as long as usual. Once we’re through, I grab an iced coffee and sit down next to Alvina to wait for boarding while Wayne heads to the bookstore to pick up a magazine.

“Did I show you the sunglasses Caleb got me?” I fish them out of my waist bag, which by definition is not a fanny pack, and hold them up proudly.

She looks them over, nodding politely. “Very nice.”

“Watch this,” I tell her, working hard to suppress my smile. I slip on my glasses and say, “Glasses, text Caleb and tell him I love him.”

I take them off with a flourish and hand them to Alvina. “They’re smart glasses. See? You can make phone calls and send messages with them. There’s a tiny computer screen up in the corner.”

She takes the glasses and holds them up to her eyes. “Wow. They have a clock and the weather, but I can still see through them.”

“I know! So cool, right? Caleb gave them to me for my birthday. I said they were too much, but he insisted. Now I use them everywhere. My favorite is how they have tiny speakers in the earpiece, so I can listen to music hands-free when I go for a run.”

A faint pinging sound emanates from the glasses. Alvina squints to read the small screen. “It’s a text from Caleb. He says he loves you more.” She takes off the glasses and hands them back, rolling her eyes. “I swear you two give me a toothache. That’s how sweet you are.”

My smile breaks free. “We really are cute together, aren’t we?” I bounce happily in my seat, picturing Caleb from this morning, the love in his eyes when he looked at me.

A woman’s voice interrupts our conversation.

“Excuse me, are you Gwen Wright?”

Immediately, I tense, wondering if this is what Caleb warned me about. Random strangers accosting me in the airport.

A petite young woman about my age stands before me. She tucks shoulder-length, dark hair behind her ear and sends me a warm, shy smile.

“Yes?” I answer hesitantly. “That’s me.”

“I thought so.” She sticks out her hand, and we shake. “Dr. Helen Chu. I think we’re heading to the same conference. A minute ago, I was checking out the schedule. I saw your name and picture on it and then I looked up and, well, here you are.”

“So nice to meet you.” I let out a breath, allowing my chest to expand. Thank goodness. Not a Caleb fan. A colleague.

Helen laughs softly and says, “I bet you and I will be the only ER doctors there.”

“You work in the Emergency Room too?” I ask, excited. I thought I’d be the only one.

She nods. “My father’s an oncologist in California. When he takes time off, I cover for him, so I try to stay up to date on the latest cancer treatments and research. That’s why I’m going.”

“I grew up in California.” I tell her, “Are you from there too?”

“Born and bred in Los Angeles. I did my training here in New York and stuck around to work since then. I’m moving back to California soon, though.” Something troubled passes over her expression. “My family needs me.” Then, Helen’s gaze drops and lights with interest. “Is that a waist bag? I’ve been wanting one of these.”

I flash a triumphant “told you so” look at Alvina. She sighs, like I’m already tiring her out with my shenanigans.

“Why, yes, it is.” I unclip the bag and give it to Helen.

She examines it, running a finger over the silver zipper. “So cute.” She hands it back. I attach it to my waist, reaching behind me to secure the clasp. I’m about to ask which hospital Helen works at when another voice, this one younger and shriller, breaks in.

“Did you say Gwen Wright?” asks a girl sitting on the other side of me. She’s in her late teens or early twenties. She shoves light-brown hair out of her face, showing off chipped red nail polish and a tiny gold nose ring. Her hazel eyes are wide and fixed on me. Another girl with matching nail polish and hair dyed a startling shade of green leans around her friend to stare.

“Yes, that’s right,” I answer, already knowing where this is heading. It’s the way these two stare at me, a mixture of curiosity and unwarranted disdain.

“As in Caleb Lawson’s fiancée?” The first girl’s voice is loud, pitched high with disbelief as her eyes roam over my faded jeans and plain white T-shirt. She stares extra-long at my earrings. They’re Christmas light bulbs, one red and the other green, dangling from my ears. They have buttons on the side that make them light up and flash, but I have them turned off for now. Even I realize that might be too obnoxious. The thing that snags the girl’s attention the most is the large diamond solitaire that adorns my left hand. I resist the urge to tuck it under my leg, hiding it.

Alvina leans closer, her elbow brushing mine, an unspoken vow of solidarity. The touch grounds me. Alvina can make you feel about one inch tall with just the twitch of her eyebrow. I’ve seen her reduce grown men to tears, doctors that acted rashly and not in the patient’s best interest. As long as she has my back, I’ll be fine.

“That’s me.” I give a friendly smile as I remind myself that these girls don’t know me yet. That’s why they’re looking at me like I have three heads. Once they see what a nice person I am, I’m sure they’ll like me.

Helen still stands before me, watching this exchange with interest. So much for keeping my identity as Caleb’s fiancée low-key at the medical conference. Other passengers stare as well, their bodies angling my way, clearly eavesdropping. With all those eyes on me, it’s like I’m suddenly onstage, playing a role, but I don’t know my lines.

“What are your names?” I ask. Maybe if I win these girls over, it’ll prove to Caleb that he has nothing to worry about.

“Skylar,” the one with the nose ring answers.

“Hannah,” says the green-haired girl as she cocks her head. “How’d you guys meet? I heard it was in rehab and you were his doctor—”

“No,” interrupts Skylar. “It was from that movie Caleb did. Where he was a surgeon. They hired her to make sure everything was medically accurate. What was that like? Working on set with him?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah’s eyes gleam. “What about when he kisses his co-star? Do you get so jealous, because if that was my boyfriend I would like die.”

I reel backward, shocked by the misinformation spewing out of them, but the two girls continue with their barrage of questions before I get a chance to respond.

“Do you see all of his movies free?” asks Skylar.

“Is he a good kisser? Because he seems like a man who knows how to kiss,” says Hannah.

“Where does he put all of his Academy Awards?”

“Is he paying for the wedding?”

“Are you really a doctor?”

“Did you make him stop acting in movies?”

“Are you giving up your career for him?”

The questions come so fast I can hardly keep track of which girl is asking. My head pivots between them. My palms sweat and my ears ring as they overwhelm me with their demands to know about the intimate details of my life.

“It is true you’re already married?” asks Hannah. “Like you eloped because you’re pregnant? That’s what my roommate heard.”

Whoa. Hold up.

My mouth drops open as two thoughts war in my head. On the one hand, I want to correct her and tell the truth. On the other hand, I want to tell her to buzz off since it’s none of her business. Years of being the polite people pleaser wins out. “We’re not married yet.”

“When’s the wedding, then?” Skylar demands.

Like I’d tell her. Fat chance.

“We’re still selecting a date,” I say diplomatically, hoping she won’t pick up on the lie.

Her eyes narrow and she gives me a look like she can read my mind.

I shift in my seat, pressing harder against Alvina.

“What’s he like?” Hannah asks, as if she has a right to know. “In real life?”

What’s Caleb like? My brain supplies a million answers at once. He’s funny, kind, loyal, so talented it’s almost disgusting. He’s a great cook, singer, and dancer. He still forgets to put the cap back on his toothpaste. His body temperature runs hot, but his feet are always cold—so chilly he sleeps with his socks on, those child-like white ankle socks I find oddly endearing. He’s a big baby when he gets hurt or sick. Band-Aids for cuts. Ice packs for bruises. The king of the Man Cold bundled up on the couch, begging me to bring him one more glass of water.

What’s Caleb like? He’s the center of my world. The star on top of my tree. He’s my everything.

I don’t tell her any of that, of course. Instead, I say, “He’s great.”

“Great?” Hannah repeats.

“Great,” I say more confidently, as if that word contains all the information she needs to know. “I’m very lucky,” I add, to fill the silence that hangs uncomfortably between us.

“Lucky?” Skylar snorts, shaking her head slowly. “You get to marry Caleb Freaking Lawson. That’s more than lucky. You won the whole lottery.” Her lower lip sticks out in a pout. She stares me straight in the eye and, completely deadpan, says, “I hate you.”

My mouth unhinges, all the air in my body escaping with a gasp. Alvina grabs onto my elbow and surges to her feet, dragging me up with her. Overhead, they announce boarding for our flight. Alvina gives me a shove toward the jetway, where I follow Helen Chu into the line of passengers waiting to board.

Right before we reach the ticket agent, Wayne walks up and, in a surprisingly jolly voice, says, “Got my magazine. What’d I miss?”