Holiday Wedding (Holiday Romance-Spicy Version #2)

4

Tuesday, December 10

1 days until the wedding

Gwen

Hate me? How can she hate me? She doesn’t even know me.

Besides Dr. Benson at the hospital, I can’t think of anyone who actively dislikes me. I’m usually a very likable person. I’m cheerful, respectful, helpful…all the “-fuls.” It makes me nauseous. The thought that there are a million Skylars out there, hating me simply because I’m the one Caleb chose.

My mind is in such a spin that I barely notice our seating assignment. It’s not until I sink into the plush double-wide chair that I realize we’re in first class.

“Hey,” I protest. “There’s been a mistake. I booked economy coach.”

Alvina is on one side of me, and Wayne’s on the other, like bookends.

“Caleb upgraded when he added me,” Wayne answers. He stretches his legs out.

I open my mouth to protest our seating arrangement, my shoulders tensing with irritation. Caleb has the best of intentions—I understand that—but he knows this isn’t what I want. We literally just talked about it.

Alvina joins the conversation. “You’re marrying one of the most famous actors of his generation, Gwen. You’d better get used to first class and his fans.”

I sigh, knowing she’s right. It’s just a bit of a shock, that interaction with Skylar and Hannah. All of Caleb’s warnings, all of his fears, sound more reasonable now.

“You’ve been with Caleb for almost two years.” Alvina digs in the backpack by her feet, pulling out a book and her reading glasses. “Haven’t you had to deal with this before?”

“I mean, not really.” I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. “We’ve been so busy with work that when Caleb and I are together we usually stay home.”

I pause, remembering the few times we’ve been in public together, and it comes to me how Caleb always places himself between me and the press. How he steps up to the microphones and shuffles me behind him. I’ve never been to one of his premieres or theater openings or walked the red carpet with him. I thought it was because he hates that stuff and wants to spare me, but now I wonder. Is it because he believes I can’t do it? Stand next to him in front of those flashing cameras. Does he think I’m not up to the task? Is he worried I’ll embarrass him?

“I guess I didn’t realize how much Caleb shields me when we’re out,” I admit. “This is the first time I’ve been on my own.”

Overhead, the captain asks us to fasten our seat belts. We taxi down the runway with the plane’s engine rumbling loudly and the floor vibrating under my feet.

“Are you ready?” I turn to Wayne, wanting to change the subject. “To officiate?” When we had announced our plans to get married on Christmas Eve, Wayne volunteered to preside over the ceremony. We’d been shocked to learn he has an officiant license, having gotten it years before to help marry some friends. “You got our vows, right? Also, remember I’m keeping my last name, so announce us as Mr. Caleb Lawson and Dr. Gwen Wright.”

“Yes, Gwen.” He slits his eyes at me. “I have it all under control, although I don’t know what’s wrong with the usual ‘for better or for worse.’”

“We thought it would be fun to write our own vows, make it more personalized.”

Wayne lets out a disapproving “hmph” as he returns his attention to his magazine, Fishing Around the World.

I cock my head, perplexed when I read the title. Since when does Wayne fish? As far as I know, all the man ever does is work.

I pivot back to Alvina. “Do you miss the hospital?”

“Yes,” she answers, “but not enough to return.”

Once Caleb and I had gotten back together, Alvina had given him one of her famous chocolate chip cookies. He’d immediately put them on the menu as the signature dessert in his restaurants, and they soon became a fan favorite. Customers plastered candid photos of the treat all over social media. That had caught the attention of a major cookie company, one with its products in grocery stores across the nation. They offered Alvina a hefty chunk of change to buy the recipe.

“Remember when you told me your cookie recipe was a family secret and that you’d never tell it to anyone?” I elbow her lightly with a grin, happy to move the conversation along to lighter topics. I like to tease her about how she’s no longer an ICU nurse since she retired a month ago.

Alvina flips strands of curly black hair over her shoulder. Her eyes are a warm brown, the same as her skin. “I remember.” She raises a brow, daring me to continue.

“Now look at you, on a permanent vacation. No more night shifts or overtime or bad cafeteria food. Must be nice.” I clearly have no sense of self-preservation to goad her like this.

“Things change.” She shrugs. “Life has seasons. You’re in your getting married season. I’m in my retired and living off cookie money season. After working over 30 years in the hospital, I have no shame in that.” Alvina closes her eyes, like she might take a nap. She adds, “Each phase of life has its highs and lows. Better embrace them all because none last. Always changing, Gwen, life’s always changing.”

Her words conjure an image of my dad. He’s been on my mind a lot recently, partly because of the wedding coming up. I keep wanting him here. It seems wrong to walk down the aisle without holding onto his arm. “Do you ever wish it wasn’t that way?” I whisper softly, a hollow sensation in my chest. My therapist, Dr. Jill, says this is normal. That grief comes in waves. She warned me it’s triggered by the holidays or by big life events, like getting married. Since I’ve decided to combine my marriage and Christmas, it’s been a double whammy of missing him.

Eyes still shut, Alvina says, “All the time. I used to wish my babies would never grow up. After my husband died, I wanted so much to have him back, but that’s not how it works. The world keeps spinning. The clock keeps ticking. Try not to fight it, honey. This wedding is going to pass by like a whirlwind. Savor those moments.”

Mulling over her words, I turn to stare past Wayne out the window as the plane takes off, the ground falling away. Once we level out, I get out a magazine and attempt to read. It’s hard to concentrate, though. My thoughts keep returning to the incident at the airport.

I can’t believe she hates me.

“Stop it.” Alvina’s voice brings my attention to her.

“What?”

“Thinking about that girl. She doesn’t know you or Caleb. She doesn’t have a right to worm her way into your brain and make you feel bad.”

“I’m not,” I lie, but Alvina has the best BS detector of anyone I know.

Immediately she counters, “You’re upset. I can tell.”

I stare glumly at the floor. “Nobody wants to hear me complain. I’m about to have the,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “‘wedding of the century’ to the ‘sexiest man alive’ according to People magazine. What right do I have to be unhappy about anything?”

“If you make air quotes one more time, I’m tying your wrists together,” warns Alvina.

I drop my hands and rest them in my lap.

“Just because everything looks great from the outside doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to have problems,” she continues. “No one’s life is perfect. No one is happy all the time. It’s okay to be human, Gwen.”

I needed that. Her permission to admit my feelings.

“It bothers me,” I say, and it feels good to get those words out. “How can I not think about it?”

Her chestnut eyes pop wider to give me a pointed stare. “By reminding yourself that girl is jealous of someone who never existed. A Hollywood-generated image, a false idol. You know the real man. You get to go home to Caleb, the actual human being who loves you more than anything.”

She’s right. Intellectually, I understand that, but it takes Alvina’s words to make it sink in. I do know Caleb better than anyone, except maybe his parents, and it occurs to me at that moment what a privilege it is—to know him so well—in a way that Skylar and the rest of the world doesn’t. It’s not special because he’s rich or famous. It’s special because that’s the magic of a committed relationship, where you crack yourself wide open for another person. You let them into your heart, your mind, so they see all of you, the sparkly bits and the dull ones, too. I love all of him, even the parts he believes are unlovable. I do that because he sees and accepts me, this version of me who strives to improve but will always be flawed.

“Okay, I’ll try.” I sigh and wiggle deeper into my seat, determined to take Alvina’s advice to heart. I need to develop better coping strategies to deal with the press and Caleb’s fans. Otherwise, every encounter will leave me like this, shaken and insecure. It’s time to get used to this.

After all, I am Caleb’s future wife, and, even more importantly, I’m Gwen Freaking Wright.