Love Connection (A Feel Good Romantic Comedy) Read online

“Did you see her?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “She was tanned. She went on our honeymoon with her bridesmaids.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  “She was fine, really. Hurt, but on the mend. I apologized; I owed it to her. She’s very rational; she understands what happened. She said it probably saved us from divorcing in a few years.”

  “I wish I could apologize too.”

  “She’s rational, not a saint. You’d better steer clear for at least twenty years.”

  “I feel horrible for what I did to her.”

  “Come here.” Jake grabs me and I melt into his arms. “She’ll be fine. She’s going to meet the right guy for her, and when that happens, she’ll be grateful to you too.”

  I let him soothe me. “Was your family upset you’re moving here?”

  “No. It’s a bit farther away than San Francisco, but it’s not like I was exactly living at home even before. So it’s not much of a change for them. A couple more hours on a plane when they visit. That’s all.”

  “So they don’t hate me for ruining your wedding and hauling you to another continent?”

  “No, definitely not. My mom was happy. She’d given me a speech about ‘unresolved things’ before the wedding. And I see now she was probably talking about you.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m pretty sure. She said she knew I wasn’t going to marry Sharon the moment you burst into the room, followed by security.”

  “Aw, gosh. Don’t make me think about bouncer guy. So your family’s happy about us?”

  “If I’m happy, they’re happy.” Jake leans in and kisses me again.

  After the kiss, I decide to change the subject and shake off the moping mood. “Are you jetlagged?”

  “No, not too much. Why?”

  “Amelia invited us to dinner at her place tomorrow night. I know you just got here and that you begin work on Monday, but I haven’t seen Amelia in forever and I ditched her wedding to… well… crash yours. So it’d be great if we could go. But if you don’t want to, I can tell her to rain check for next week.”

  “No, tomorrow’s fine. I want to see Amelia; it’s been ages for me too. And her husband could become a good friend.”

  “Are you missing California already?” I ask, worried.

  “No, but I’ve lived there for a decade. Most of my friends are there. It’s weird living in a city where I don’t know anyone except you and Amelia.”

  “London will swipe you in like a tornado. You’ll see. There are so many people here it’s impossible not to make friends.”

  ***

  The next evening we’re standing in front of Amelia’s door with a bottle of wine and a handful of good expectations for the night. But as William opens the door to let us in, all my optimism is crushed. William’s being perfectly nice and polite. He smiles, shakes Jake’s hand with an attitude of male comradeship, hugs me, offers us wine… but something’s off. I can feel an emphatic wave of awkwardness coming from him. As perfect as all his gestures are, they don’t feel sincere. It’s as if he wishes he were anywhere but here. I’m probably over-analyzing as always and he’s just tired after a week at work. Maybe tonight he wanted to stretch on the couch watching a movie instead of having to entertain guests.

  “Gemma.” Amelia launches herself at me and crushes me in a hug. Now, this is a heartfelt greeting. “I’ve missed you so much!”

  “Me too. Ames, I’m so sorry I missed your wedding.”

  “Don’t. You don’t need to apologize; you had a very good reason.” She lets me go and shifts her attention to Jake. “Come here, you very good reason,” she tells him. “I’ve missed you too.” They hug. “It was about time you two came to your senses and stopped wasting your lives.”

  “Still bossy, are we?” Jake teases.

  “As always. Please sit down; I’ll bring the appetizers in a second.”

  As the night proceeds, I can’t shake the sensation that something’s off between Will and Amelia. It’s nothing they do, more what they don’t do. They never touch, they never kiss—and I’m not saying they should make out at the dinner table, but I expected a newly wedded couple to be at least a little overbearing in the PDA department. They never look at each other, like at all. I try all evening to convince myself it’s just my imagination, and that I’m reading signals where there’s nothing to read—at least until William drops a conversational bomb on the table.

  “So Jake,” he says, “would you say calling off your wedding was the best decision you could have made?”

  I stare at him dumbfounded. Did he really just ask that? I look at Jake; he’s taken aback by the question, but he’s recovering fast.

  “It was the best decision I could have made given the circumstances. I should probably have realized I was making a mistake way sooner than the day I walked down the aisle.”

  “Mmm,” William presses him. “But even after you realised it was a mistake, didn’t you feel the pressure of your family, her family, your friends?”

  Why’s Will insisting so much on this topic? What’s he playing at? Why does he keep asking Jake about his once-was-wife-to-be? As if she wasn’t enough of a skeleton in our closet already. I know Jake doesn’t have any regrets, but the less he thinks about Sharon and what we did to her, the better.

  “Will, maybe Jake doesn’t want to discuss this particular topic over dinner,” Amelia chides her husband.

  “No, it’s okay,” Jake says. “I guess it was the elephant in the room.” I love him so much for how he owns the situation. “And to answer your question, I didn’t have much time to feel the pressure. It was a split second decision. I knew what I should do, what I wanted to do, and I did it.”

  “T-that’s admirable,” William says. Then he grabs his glass of wine and downs it.

  The awkwardness at the table has spiked to new heights.

  “Well,” Amelia says, looking mortified. “It’s time to serve the main course.” She gets up and starts collecting our empty salad plates.

  “I’ll help you,” I say. I take my and Jake’s plates and follow her into the kitchen. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Is everything all right?” I ask.

  She stares at the sink for a while before answering. “Yes, and no. Everything seems perfect on the surface. But deep down something’s wrong.”

  “Is it William?”

  “He’s a big part, but it’s not just him. It’s… not right. It’s hard to explain. It’s like I’ve spent the last year on a wedding planning high. And now that my perfect wedding’s over, my marriage is… I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know, as in?”

  “Like yesterday, for example, I tried to think about the last real conversation I had with Will. And I can’t remember one that didn’t involve flowers, venues, hors d’oeuvres, or some other wedding-related thing.”

  “But what about the honeymoon? Did you guys have a good time?”

  “It was… lovely,” Amelia says in a tone between sad and spiteful. “But it wasn’t passionate, or intense, or exciting. It was just mature.”

  “Was it you, or was it him?”

  “It was the both of us. He didn’t make an effort. And I couldn’t be bothered to make an effort either. I’d rather read beach novels in peace by the pool than make an effort to talk to my husband. And he seemed content looking at his phone all day instead of talking to me. He seems to be attached to the thing these days. He takes it everywhere he goes, even to the bathroom. I might’ve become jealous of his phone.”

  “But was this just the honeymoon, or was it also before, after? Maybe you need to relax after all the stress of the wedding.”

  Amelia bites her lower lip. I read indecision in her features.

  “What, honey? You can tell me.”

  “I’ve no idea how it was before. It’s awful. I’ve spent the last year obsessin
g about the wedding, and with work and everything else… I didn’t notice Will at all. I’m a horrible person.”

  “No, you’re not. You guys just need some time to adjust.”

  “I don’t know, Gem, I’m having thoughts someone who just got married shouldn’t have.”

  “Like?”

  “Like it was a huge mistake. Last night I was having drinks with my colleagues after work, and even though I can’t stand half of them when the night was over, I found myself dreading coming home. I didn’t want to. What does that say about me? I’m the worst wife ever.”

  “Come here.” I hug her. “It doesn’t say anything; it’s not as bad as you think, I promise. You love Will. Talk to him. I’m sure you guys can fix whatever’s going on with you two.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re right; I’m being silly and getting too much into my own head. Okay, let’s bring the main course out or the boys will start wondering where we went.”

  ***

  “That was…” Jake pauses to find the right word. “Interesting.” We’re outside, walking toward the Tube to get back home. “But to be honest, I don’t think William will become my new BFF.”

  “You didn’t like him, did you?”

  “The guy didn’t do anything wrong per se. It was just weird.”

  “Definitely weird.”

  “What was with all those questions about canceling my wedding?”

  “You mean he asked more?”

  “While you girls were in the kitchen he kept grilling me with all these personal questions. It was crazy.”

  “I’m so sorry. This probably wasn’t the evening you had in mind, uh?”

  “What did Amelia say? Is she okay?”

  “No, she’s not. She senses something’s off too. She said she’s been neglecting Will for a year to organize the wedding and she feels bad about it. She said he seems more attached to his phone than to her lately.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She said he takes his phone everywhere he goes, even to the bathroom.”

  Jake lets out a low whistle.

  “Why are you whistling?”

  “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but when a guy’s that attached to his phone it’s because he’s got something to hide.”

  “To hide? Like what?”

  Jake throws me a side stare.

  “You think there’s another woman?”

  “I won’t lie to you. From the way he kept asking me how I felt for following my heart and, I quote, ‘freeing myself from the chains of family’s expectations’—yeah—he was talking like a guy who wished he’d done the same thing.”

  “And left Amelia at the altar?”

  “Or before. Or he’s thinking about doing it now.”

  “Did he say something else?”

  “Yeah, he asked if it was good to be with the girl I really loved…”

  “And you don’t think he was talking about Amelia?”

  “Somehow, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t.”

  “Oh gosh. And I told her everything would be fine.”

  “It will be. If they’re not right for each other, the sooner they realize it, the better. Believe me, I talk from experience.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I stop in front of a set of steps leading underground. “This is our station. Let’s go home.”

  Ten

  Team Building

  ♦♦♦

  Wednesday, June 28—London

  It takes a lot of work to clean Naomi’s mess, but it’s as good a distraction as any to keep me busy on the weekend or after work. Any activity is better than no activity as my stupid heart tends to take over and voice its complaints whenever I’m idle. So I’m keeping busy and working myself to exhaustion, both at the office—taking on more cases than any one person could handle, and at home—rubbing clean every small crevice of this apartment until it shines as new.

  Right now, I’m helping Amelia move her final boxes into her room. As I deposit the last cardboard box on her bed, Amelia appears on the threshold looking like a human Christmas tree of bags. She comes into her room, kicks a box out of her way with a stiletto-clad foot, and drops all the bags on top of some other boxes before collapsing on the bed.

  I take a bottle of white wine out of the fridge, grab two glasses, and join her.

  “Celebratory drink?” I ask, offering Amelia one of the glasses.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  She seems off.

  “You moving in with me?”

  “To moves!” She clinks her glass against mine with an undecipherable smile and takes a gulp of wine slightly too large to be healthy.

  “I sense some bitter-sweetness here. What’s going on?”

  “William’s moving to New York to be with the flight attendant.”

  “She took him back?”

  “Apparently they’re soul mates, destined to be together.”

  “So, are you… mmm… jealous?”

  “More bitter.” She takes another long sip of wine. “It doesn’t seem fair that he gets to cheat on me for a year, ruin my life, and live happily ever after with his mistress. It just isn’t fair.”

  “It isn’t fair.”

  “No. It adds insult to injury. I’d much rather he be miserable and suffering. Am I a horrible person for wishing that?”

  “No, just human.”

  “It’s just that, at this point in my life I’m supposed to be shopping for ovulation predictor kits, not I’m-close-to-thirty-single-and-desperate shoes!”

  “You bought new shoes?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Sure.” Amelia gets up and brings to the bed one of the many bags she carried into the apartment. “Here they are.”

  “Oh my gosh, Ames!” I take the shoes out of the box and they’re the sexiest pair of black stilettos I’ve ever seen. They’re wrap-around sandals made of a net of crystal-covered leather. The motif looks like sparkly fish scales. “These aren’t I’m-single-and-desperate shoes, these are I’m-smoking-hot-and-you’d-be-lucky-to-kiss-my-toes shoes. Any special occasion?”

  “Tomorrow evening I’ve got drinks with my colleagues. I hate those things, but they’re supposed to be for team building, so I’ve to go. Oh, and you’re coming with me.”

  “Am I? Why?”

  “I need a friend there. There’s this guy at the office. I hate him, he’s worse than William.”

  As she says this Amelia turns purple.

  “Worse than William?” I wonder what a dude could’ve done to be classified as worse than William, given present circumstances. He must’ve sunk pretty low. “What did he do?”

  “He stole one of my accounts, then he made me cry, and then he kissed me.” Amelia pouts and I almost choke on my wine at the kissing part.

  “He kissed you?”

  “Yeah, the guts of him.”

  I smirk; something tells me Amelia didn’t exactly dislike the kiss. “Good kisser or bad kisser?”

  “Good. I mean, average.”

  “Uh-huh. And how did you go from the client stealing to the crying to the kissing?”

  “He announced the account change this morning at the staff meeting. In front of everyone, the bastard.”

  “He sounds a bit jerky. Is it office policy to steal each other’s clients?”

  “It’s accepted. The partners think it keeps the working environment more lively.”

  “So he what? He waited for you to be on your honeymoon to steal one of your accounts?”

  “Precisely.”

  “What a D-bag. But why you? Did he want to be mean to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess it was payback.”

  “Payback for what?”

  “For me stealing his biggest client last month,” Amelia replies, unconcerned.

  “Amelia! You made it sound like he was bad, and you’re wor
se than him.”

  “At least I had the class not to gloat about it in his face.”

  “Is that how he made you cry?”

  “No, much, much worse.”

  I stare at her interrogatively.

  “Once the meeting was over, he came into my office to gloat. He asked me if I’d liked my wedding present.”

  I stop mid sip, shocked. “He didn’t.”

  “He did.”

  I squeeze her knee.

  “That’s when I lost it. He was there, standing on my threshold all arrogant and smug, and I’d just found out Will was moving to New York… I threw the first thing I found—a mug—at him and I-I started crying. Ugly, hysterical crying. I couldn’t stop myself. I kept sobbing and sobbing.”

  “And what did he—what’s his name?—do?”

  “Dylan, his name’s Dylan. He came into the office and closed the door.”

  And the plot thickens.

  “He had the nerve to ask me why I was crying. I told him that stealing my client was okay; it was fair game. But mocking me about my failed marriage, or non-wedding, wasn’t cool.”

  “Yeah, not cool.”

  “Then he asked me what I meant by failed marriage. And I said he could stop pretending he didn’t know. Then he asked what was it he was supposed to know. So I screamed in his face that my husband-to-be had cheated on me for a year and that my maid of honor had to tell me while I was at the altar…”

  “Yep, I’m familiar with that part of the story. So what did he do then?”

  “He asked me if I was married. I said, no. Then he asked me if I was engaged, or seeing someone. And I asked him if he enjoyed being a sadist, and that’s when he kissed me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. I was yelling at him and he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me.”

  “And you?”

  “At first I was so surprised I didn’t know what was going on. Then, I might’ve kissed him back a little bit before I came to my senses, pushed him away, slapped him in the face, and threw him out of my office.”

  “How’s this Dylan in the looks department?”

  “He’s okay, I guess.”

  “Mmm. Interesting.”

  “What’s interesting?”

  “So you hate the guy?”