Authors: Katherine Owen
"I don't really need to
date
you. I already have the best parts about you figured out."
"Hey lovebirds, they're deplaning," Liz says. "Join us?"
She and Adrian lean over our seats and affect these identical knowing smirks.
"God! Is anyone going to be able to keep a secret around here?" I ask.
Adrian laughs and shakes his head. He thinks the whole keep-it-a-secret idea is flawed.
"We'll do our best. It might help if you two try not to look like you want to rip each other's clothes off right here in first class," Liz says with a laugh. "We'll go find Ashleigh and Tate in baggage claim. Join us; won't you?"
With that, she and Adrian take off. I watch their retreating backs with a bit of angst. Brock and I haven't exactly talked about how the logistics are going to work here. We've spent the last two months together and have barely left the house. Other than me showing up for a few shifts a week at Le Reve, we've been together. And, I think even Louis has begun to suspect something is up with Brock and me. For his part, Brock has shown up at every shift and eaten dinner with me. I've begun preparing special dishes made especially for his nightly arrival. Louis has successfully parlayed these into nightly specials for the Le Reve menu on the nights I work.
We wait until the majority of passengers have deplaned. I smile over at him. He helps me up from the seat and kisses me one last time. His attentiveness is off the charts. In the back of my mind, I idly wonder how that's going to play out in front of his family and our friends. He retrieves our carry-on bags, and I follow him off the airplane in this kind of endless bliss. He glances back and smiles at me. My throat constricts with a myriad of emotions ranging from joy to utter amazement.
He loves me.
I know it in the way he holds on to me late at night and, like now, when he reaches out and waits for me to grab hold of his hand. I love him, too.
"Come on, Mrs. Wainwright," he says. "This way."
≈ ≈
Baggage claim is overrun with the entire extended Wainwright family. I'm overcome with handshakes and the warm hugs of virtual strangers. There must be at least twenty people here. I scan the crowd, looking for Ashleigh and Tate. Brock lets go of my hand to hug his mother.
Janie beams and holds on to Brock. I feel this twinge of guilt for keeping him from her the past few months, including Christmas, which we spent at the beach, wrapped in blankets and each other. I've been completely selfish.
Someone lightly squeezes my right arm in belated welcome. I glance over and take in the familiar face of Brock's sister, Diana.
"Diana," I say with a nervous laugh. "Hi! Oh, it's great to see you. How are you doing?" Unthinking, I go in for a hug, and she gasps a little bit when my bulging waistline hits at her midsection.
"Wow. Oh, wow," Diana says. She pulls me along to the edge of the familial crowd with her free hand. "
Please.
Tell me. I'm going to be an aunt.
Please.
"
"You are," I say quickly. "But it's kind of something we're attempting to keep under wraps, until after Tate and Ashleigh's wedding," I say slowly.
Feeling overwhelmed, I glance over at Brock and discover him talking animatedly to his mother. Now, Janie's looking at me in wonder. Then I can only watch as she bursts into tears. In the next ten seconds, she's making her way over to Diana and me with Brock trailing behind her.
"Oh, Jordan. Oh, Jordan. I'm so happy," Janie says engulfing me in her amazing embrace. She wipes at her tears with a laugh as she pulls back from me and just studies my face intently. "This is everything I've wanted. I just can't believe it. I just can't believe it." She kisses each side of my face and hugs me once more.
I look over her shoulder straight at Brock. "What did you tell her
exactly
?"
He gets this sheepish look. "Everything?"
"What happened to this being about Ashleigh and Tate's big moment? You agreed."
I successfully pull out of Janie's arms and take her hands in mine.
"We're not telling anyone else," I say in a panic. "Di knows most of it. You know all of it. That's it. I don't want to ruin Tate and Ashleigh's day. Okay?"
My mother-in-law nods enthusiastically. Diana steals up beside her.
"Okay," Diana says as she puts her arm around Janie. "Mom, this is going to be a first. You're going to keep this a secret." She waves her arm around. "Until Brock and Jordan are ready to announce it. Capiche?" Diana laughs. "Oh, my God, I finally have a sister!" She comes in for an official hug and practically crushes me.
"Get your hands off my Maid of Honor, Di!" Ashleigh says from behind her.
I delicately extract myself from my secret sister-in-law's grip, carefully hug Ashleigh, and manage to keep my protruding stomach far enough back from her normal clairvoyant detection. Nervous, I pull away from her within seconds.
Everyone gets this expectant look and gazes at me. Ashleigh looks from me to Brock.
"Hello stranger. Welcome back to Austin," Ashleigh drawls. "Looks like Malibu agrees with you, Brock."
"I like Malibu," he says easily. Brock gets this reckless, defiant look, puts his arm around me, and flashes Ashleigh this charming smile.
"The groom will be happy to see you," she says. "I have to admit, I've been a bit needy since my best friend has effectively abandoned me and Liz insists on staying in L.A. with her."
I slide out from under the weight of Brock's arm and make an hasty escape. "Can I talk to you, Ash? We really need to catch up."
It's as if I've rewarded her or something. She beams at me. I wind my arm through hers, prepared to walk off with her, until I feel a child's hand pulling at my dress.
"Jordan. Jordan. I'm so glad you're back," says Diana's son, Robbie.
I stop and bend down to pick up the little boy. He's three, a year younger than Max. I bury my face in his neck and smell baby shampoo and graham crackers.
"Robbie, it's good to see you."
He cups my face with his little hands when I look up at him. Next, he plants a kiss on my cheek.
"Sorry," he says. "About Max."
"Me, too."
"Mommy says he went to Heaven to be with Ethan."
"That's true. He did. He's with his daddy."
My bravado starts to falter. Ashleigh sees it first.
"Robbie? Jordan's going to ride back to the ranch with me. She can catch up to you later; okay?"
I start to walk away with Ashleigh, reeling from the little boy's innocent reference to Max, but slowly turn back remembering Brock.
He looks beside himself. I've been out of his reach for all of two minutes. Ashleigh sees his anxious face, too.
"What's gotten into him?" Ashleigh asks, as she propels us through the airport entryway. "Here. The car's this way. Brock can ride with Tate and Adrian. I want you and Liz all to myself." She stops and stares at me for a second while she unlocks the car with a press of a button on her key chain. "You look different," she says lost in thought, but still scrutinizing me.
"I do?"
"Yeah," she says. "You look happy. Really happy." She looks over at Brock who is climbing up into Tate's big truck. He still looks out of sorts and scowls in our general direction. "What's going on with him?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Liz says as she slides into the backseat.
I give her a warning look as I get into the passenger seat.
"So, tell us everything. What's the plan? How can we help?" I ask.
It's the best tactic I can think of. Ask the bride what the plans are. Ashleigh is off and running within seconds outlining the plans, beginning with the fitting of our dresses, which we're apparently going to do now. I cringe at the thought of fitting into a bridesmaid dress and anxiously look back at Liz. She just laughs.
"This is going to be such fun. Such fun," Liz says with a wicked laugh.
≈ ≈
Two hours later, it's really stopped being fun. Ashleigh has turned into bridezilla because her own dress needs to be taken in one additional time.
"I don't believe this," she mutters as she preens in front of the mirror.
"I think it looks great," I say. "You look beautiful."
"Go try yours on. I'm sure we're going to have to take it in. You look like you've lost weight."
"I don't know. Maybe." I slink toward the dressing rooms, looking for one that is farthest away from her. Liz struts out wearing the dark red satin version of the bridesmaid dress and rolling her eyes.
"It's tight-fitting. Let me model this for our lovely bride and then I'll come help you with yours," Liz whispers in passing.
"Perfect," I mutter.
The dress is this wonderful rich Bordeaux color. I was worried it would contrast with the red tones of my hair, but it's perfect. I even start to believe in miracles as the zipper goes up fairly easily in the back when Liz returns, but the bodice is a little tight. It shows a little bit more cleavage than I normally wear. It flounces out at the waistline, so no one will be able to really tell I'm pregnant. A little giddy at this unexpected revelation, I flounce back up to the front.
"It's too tight in the chest."
"I can see that," Ashleigh deadpans. She's changed into a bright red dress that reveals every curve of her perfect body. "For the rehearsal dinner tonight I got you and Liz dresses, too."
"Where did you get the money?" Liz asks, swanking towards us in her regular street clothes.
"We struck oil at the Lazy J," Ashleigh says. "Tate took care of it. Well, Tate, Brock, and you, Jordan," she says with a wan smile. "Surely, he told you."
"I think he told me," I say. "I don't know; we've had a lot of other things to talk about."
"Really?" Ashleigh asks. "Do tell."
"Yes, do
tell
," Liz echoes.
I turn to my friend slash gyno and give her a warning look.
"I think it's about time to come clean with all of it," Liz says.
"Yeah, come clean with it. All of it. You can start with why you're sipping at that champagne and not actually drinking it and then you can tell me why your boobs are twice their normal size." She stops talking and gets this wondrous look. "Holy shit. Are—are you pregnant?"
"I don't want this to be about me," I say with a nervous laugh. I hang my head and refuse to actually look at her. "But, yeah. I am. I guess I'll be skipping the champagne at the wedding. Well, I'll do the toast. A half glass isn't going to kill me."
She sits down with a humph, much to the dismay of the dressmaker, who appears around the corner with straight pins ready to take in the bodice and re-sew the dress. I watch her scuttle away at Ashleigh's request. Our bride's satin dress billows around her like a cloud. I sink down right beside her on the sofa and lean my head against her shoulder.
"I've missed you so much, Ash" I say.
"I can see that," she says with a sigh. "What else aren't you telling me?"
Ashleigh looks over at Liz. "What else? Because everyone is acting weird. Ever since you all got off the plane. Weird, I tell you."
I shake my head side-to-side in warning at Liz.
"That's it. Come on. It's all about you. Let's go to the ranch and get ready for this fabulous rehearsal dinner of yours."
"Nice try," Ashleigh says. "It's Brock's; right?"
"Something like that."
"So, when's the big day?"
"No big day. We're just taking it one day at time for now."
Liz makes a strangled sound and mouths the words, "Tell her."
"Tell me, what?" Ashleigh asks.
"Nothing. There's nothing else to tell," I say with a laugh.
*≈*≈*
Chapter 29. Looking for water
Jordan
At half past four, I finally escape Ashleigh's inquisition. Which is good because I was close to breaking down and just telling her everything, but I remain stubborn, scared, outside of myself, even at this point. I'm both physically and mentally exhausted, and my head is pounding. Weary, I climb the stairs at the Wainwrights' ranch, where Janie has now insisted we stay. I search the bedrooms, wondering where our luggage has ended up.
Per Janie's welcome note, she's at the hair salon, getting her hair styled for tonight's rehearsal dinner, since she's effectively Tate's aunt, mother, and father rolled into one. I feel this qualm of sadness and spend the next few minutes thinking of Henry.
My initial tour downstairs reveals that J's Paradise has been transformed. I can see what Janie Wainwright has spent the past several months doing. She's redecorated every square inch of space both downstairs as well as upstairs. I bite my lip in consternation, recognizing the frenzy of grief in all this extracurricular activity. What others will deem wasteful; I can only discern as heartbreak and grief. Pain. Inexplicable. Inescapable pain at the loss of a loved one.
I locate our luggage in what used to be Janie and Henry's master bedroom. Her personal things are down the hall in the guest room that Max and I once stayed in. The master bedroom is now a creamy off-white and adorned with fresh white flowers on each night stand. Everything is new. I recognize this kind of cleansing. I performed the same kind of ritual at the Malibu property six years ago and again almost a year ago. I might have to do that again I decide, recalling Max's bedroom, which remains untouched.