Autumn Adventure (Summer Unplugged #6) (2 page)

Even with all of the trips to the mall before our wedding, my entire wardrobe is too lame for our hotel, much less for the rest of California. Jace assures me that the black lacey dress I’ve chosen for dinner will be fine, but I feel so horribly under dressed. I have this frightening fear that every person who passes us in the hallway can instantly tell that I’m some uneducated country freak from the south.

It’s because of these insecurities that we decide to have dinner at a restaurant in our hotel called The Polo Lounge. I order tortilla soup and pasta and Jace gets the filet mignon. The entire place is so fancy that I have a mini panic attack over which fork I should use. Jace, ever the handsome gentleman, laughs at me.

“Babe, you’re stressing way too much about this. It’s just a restaurant. No one cares which fork you use.”

“Yeah, well I’m going to Google it anyway,” I say, looking up the information on my phone. He may roll his eyes at me, but a few minutes later when I tell him he’s using the wrong fork to eat his salad, he drops it and grabs the right one. Ha!

After dinner, we cruise through West Hollywood toward Los Angeles. It’s nearing eight o’clock at night which makes it too late to do just about anything besides see a movie back at home, but Jace assures me there’s still plenty to do in LA.

We walk hand in hand down the Walk of Fame and Jace takes pictures of me with the stars of Kaley Cuoco and Jim Parsons, two of my favorite actors. We visit a few museums and then grab a late night burger at In-and-Out and eat them in our rental car.

“This is pretty good,” I say between bites.

Jace nods and stuffs more fries in his mouth. “They should totally expand into Texas. I miss these things, bad.”

It’s late, but we’re still wide awake from our weird wedding hangover sleep fest, so I only have to beg a little bit to convince Jace to take us to the beach. The drive is a little long, but and cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard has me singing the song
All I Wanna Do
by Sheryl Crow.

When we get to the beach, I rush down the sand, eager to put my toes in the water. We have a beach in Texas, but the water is muddy brown and the sand is often full of old seaweed. It looks nothing like the beautiful Pacific coast.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jace calls out as he jogs along behind me.

“Why not?” I call back, narrowly missing crashing into a guy throwing a Frisbee to his dog. “I have my shoes off.” I wave the cheap sandals high above my head as I continue on my sprint to the water. It’s a warm summer’s day and all I want to do is feel the rush of the sea crashing into my feet.

“Oh holy shit!” I call out, jumping back twice as quickly as I had stepped into the water. It’s freezing. Like, a melted arctic glacier freezing. “Why is it so cold?” I glare at the ocean as it crashes onto the shore, it’s beautiful clear water nothing but a fake lie of coldness.

“I warned you,” he says, stepping up behind me and sliding his hands around my waist. “Why do you think everyone’s wearing a wetsuit around here? The Pacific ocean is cold as balls.”

“Hmph.” I cross my arms over Jace’s while we stand in the sand just a few feet away from the water that threatens to get us with each new cresting wave. It’s dark but that hasn’t deterred the surfers, who to my chagrin, are definitely all wearing wetsuits. “Oh well, I guess we can go now. LA isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.”

“It is if you’re a millionaire, I bet,” Jace says.

“
Everything
is awesome if you’re a millionaire.”

“Well look at that!” Jace and I turn toward the sound of the voice that just appeared from behind us. A man about Jace’s age walks toward us, holding hands with a pretty brunette girl who’s wearing a dress similar to mine. “And I thought we weren’t going to see a celebrity tonight!”

“Ah, man,” Jace says, his face turning to a bashful smile as he approaches the guy and shakes his hand. Their gestures tell me this isn’t some random stranger talking to Jace. “I’m not a celebrity,” Jace says to the girl, slapping his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Whatever he’s told you is a lie.”

“No way, this is Jace Adams, national motocross superstar.” The guy looks at me. “This must be his lovely wife.”

“Wife?” I blurt out stupidly. I mean, way to just make it sound like I was embarrassed of being called that. Then I add, “How’d you know that?”

Jace’s brows furrow. “How did you know that? I haven’t posted it to social media yet. We’ve been too busy.” To me, he says, “Jake Sampson, my old racing buddy from San Francisco. We used to tear up the tracks when we were kids.”

Jake pulls out his cell phone, swipes the screen and then hands it to Jace. “That’s how I knew, man. Congrats by the way. I’m psyched for you.”

“Are you having a baby?” the girl next to Jake asks, glancing at my stomach. She’s smiling and seems sweet, so I guess she’s not trying to pull a bitch move and point out how I clearly got knocked up out of wedlock. I nod, touching my stomach habitually. “Five months along now.”

I look at Jace, expecting to see his trademark smile of pride that he gets every time we talk about the baby, but instead he hasn’t even heard me. He’s staring at Jake’s phone, his features twisted into annoyance. “Who the fuck…” he murmurs, before showing me the screen.

Right there on a motocross website that often features Mixon Motocross Park and other popular race tracks, is a picture of Jace and me just twenty four hours ago at our wedding. We’re holding hands and walking back down the aisle after having just said our vows. We’re smiling and not looking anywhere near the camera. Someone in the audience took this photo when we weren’t paying attention. And then they gave it to a website.

“Who would do this?” I ask, looking at Jace as if he’d have an answer. He shakes his head and gives the phone back to Jake. “I mean, it’s not a secret or anything but it’s weird. We had wanted to have our honeymoon privately and not make a big deal about the wedding. I even lied to my clients about why I took off work for three weeks,” Jace says.

Jake shrugs. “It probably wasn’t done out of spite. You know how reporters are, they’re always asking anyone connected to celebrities to sell them photos or information.”

“I am
not
a celebrity!” Jace says for what feels like the millionth time in the last few weeks. “God I wish those magazines would leave me alone.”

“Tough break, bro,” Jake says. “I was never fast enough to have that problem. People don’t give a shit about me.”

“I do!” the girl says, tugging on his arm.

“This is Clara, my girlfriend,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Sorry it took me so long to introduce you. I was star struck in front of this massive celebrity.”

Jace laughs. “I hope you meet a real celebrity tonight and not a phony one like me.”

Clara shakes her head. “All of my girlfriends know who you are, so you’re kind of famous even if you hate it. I recognize you, as well,” she says to me. “I see your picture on the motocross Facebook pages and stuff. You’re friends with Hana Fisher, right?”

I nod slowly. “How do y’all know that?” I ask, looking up at Jace. “We’re not really famous, are we? I mean… you don’t even race professionally anymore.”

“But he trains the professionals,” Jake interrupts. “And he had a pretty big reputation before he moved to Texas. Maybe not famous to everyone in the country, but anyone who knows anything about motocross knows Jace Adams.”

Jace nods at this. “Don’t worry, babe. It’s only motocross people who know us. We just happened to run into my old racing buddy.”

“I sure hope so,” I say with a little shudder that’s not from the chill in the air. “I don’t like the idea of being recognized, or talked about on websites.”

Clara smiles. “I think it’s cool. I’d love to be famous even if it’s only mildly famous.”

“I used to think that,” I admit. “But seeing a picture of my own wedding on some website kind of freaks me out. At least they didn’t say anything bad.” I look up at Jace. “Wait, did they say anything bad?”

He shrugs. “There might have been a mention of you looking pregnant,” he says without any emotion. “But it’s our life so fuck them. I’m going to find out who sent that photo to the press and kick their ass.”

“Let me know if you need any help, bro.” Jake shakes his hand again and we all start heading back to where our cars are parked. Sadly, my desire to hang out at the beach until midnight has been ruined my the overwhelming feeling that we’re being watched even when we don’t realize it.

Clara lets go of her boyfriend’s hand to take a place next to me. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” she says in a quiet, comforting voice. “The only people who would recognize you are girls who are jealous that you got to marry someone they have a crush on. It’s not like anyone thinks badly of you. They’re just jealous. Screw them.”

“Thanks. It’s weird thinking that people have a crush on my husband and they’ve never met him.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how weird it really is. I’ve always been annoyed at how girls at the motocross track flirt with him and beg for pictures with him so they can post it online. But that’s a little different, because at least they’ve met the man they’re crushing on. Realizing that tons of girls across the country like Jace and they have only seen him in pictures in motocross magazines is just weird.

Clara’s smile turns devious. “Enjoy it while you can. Isn’t it fun to have something everyone else wants?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re fun. I like you.”

“I like you, too,” she says. “You’re way nicer than you seem online.”

I start to ask her what the hell she means by that, but we’ve arrived at our car and Jace and Jake start laughing at whatever they had been talking about.

“It’s been good catching up,” Jace says, going in for one of those handshake, pat-on-the-back things that guys do. “I’ll call you next time we’re in San Fran.”

“Cool, cool,” Jake says. He walks over to us and wraps his arm around Clara’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

Jace opens the door of a shiny red car for me. It takes a second for me to realize this is our car, since I’m so used to Jace’s massive truck. But of course we don’t have the truck—we’re in California on our honeymoon. Funny how hearing some drama about my life online can almost make me completely forget where I am and what I’m doing.

I wish it were enough for me to come back to reality, forget about things that might be on the internet just waiting for me to find them, and join my honeymoon with Jace, thinking of nothing but him.

But it’s not that easy.

Back at our hotel, Jace and I order dessert from room service and pig out in our fantastic hotel room. Diving into a massive hot fudge sundae is so much fun, I don’t even have to fake being happy and normal. But as soon as my handsome husband falls asleep after we make love, I carefully crawl out of bed.

Jace’s tablet is buried inside a protective sleeve at the bottom of his suitcase. It takes forever for me to quietly unzip the suitcase without waking him up. Then I fish around in the dark for the tablet and sneak it into the bathroom where the bright screen won’t be as noticeable.

Staring at the tablet’s search engine, I pause to ask myself if I really want to do this. Jace is famous in the motocross world and I’ve known that since I first met him. Usually it only bothers me when random girls rush up to him and beg for his autograph or to take a picture with him. That doesn’t even bother me very much anymore. I am his wife, after all. Who cares about other girls?

Now though, after the talk with Clara on the beach, I am dying to know about the leaked picture of our wedding and to find out what people are saying about me online. I know I shouldn’t do it. I know if I were to call Becca right now she would tell me to throw the tablet across the room and ignore my urges to snoop online. Because it’s something like three in the morning here, and even later back in Texas, I know I can’t call Becca. So with her wise words muffled by my excuse not to call her, I type in my name and Jace’s name and hit search.

The first thing that comes up is a Facebook page for Texas Motocross, the biggest motocross news source and fan page for our region. Jace’s boss always has banners up at the track that advertise this website and I know Jace does a ton of interviews for them.

My heart pounds as I scroll down the page but I find some relief when I see that the first post isn’t anything about us. Neither is the second, or third post. I keep scrolling, my eyes glazing over wall posts from local riders and stupid pictures that random people have posted.

Finally, something appears on the screen that pertains to me. Which sucks especially bad because even though I had been looking for it, a part of me had hoped I wouldn’t find anything. It’s the leaked photo of our wedding. It appears to have been taken from the right side of the wedding guests because Jace and I are to the left, walking down the aisle. It’s so weird that someone would do this and send a picture to the news. I mean, why? It’s not like we’re some crazy celebrity couple that’s known for scandals.

Jace had a lot of motocross friends at the wedding, so although the photo leaker could have been anyone, I’m betting it was one of them.

I glance up at myself in the bathroom mirror, face glowing from the light of the tablet’s screen. Is this stupid? Sneaking off in the middle of the night on my honeymoon just to look at gossip online?

Yes, I decide. It is most definitely stupid.

But am I above it?

Nope!

I click on the photo so I can read the comments. There are a bunch of friendly congratulations comments and the random oddball comment that has nothing to do with the photo. And then I see words that make my knees shake.

Why did he settle for that skank? Ugh, he can do so much better.

That comment got a dozen likes and someone else had replied to it with an even worse comment:
I heard she got knocked up and forced him into it.

Another comment says:
I hope he got a prenup!

One particularly fantastic one says:
My God, that man can get any woman he wants and he chose her?

I look at the photos of the people posting these rude things about myself—they’re all women about my age. So maybe Clara was right about them just being jealous. Still, it hurts to read terrible things about myself.

Yet for some reason, I keep reading.

A few older people said they don’t understand why people get married so young.

One person, whose profile photo is of a dog, said:
smh. It’s a shame to see young people throwing their lives away by getting married so young. They have their whole life ahead of them!

Uh, yeah, idiot. I have my whole life ahead of me and all I want to do is spend it with Jace. So why
wouldn’t
I get married? Ugh. It takes everything I have not to reply to these comments. This tablet is logged in to Jace’s account so it’d look like my bitchy rantings were coming from him and that would totally not help the situation.

Before I know it, nearly an hour has gone by and I’ve skimmed all twelve hundred and sixteen comments on the post. At least half, if not a little more than half of the comments are fairly nice or neutral. The rest of them say something mean or negative and a small handful are downright awful.

Although I shouldn’t care one bit about what the public thinks of my marriage to Jace, if I
did
care, then I should be happy that most people are nice about it. Still, I feel the pull of an emotional knot in my stomach as I turn off the tablet and sneak back into our hotel room. Jace is still asleep, breathing deeply and probably dreaming about a world that’s peaceful and stress-free. I wish I could be like him. I wish I could ignore things that bother me and focus on the good.

Sometimes Jace seems so completely perfect in every possible way. I wonder if he’s faking it?

When I hide the tablet back where it was and crawl into bed as quietly as I can, Jace’s breathing hitches and he rolls over closer to me. I use the movement he makes as a way to hurry up and slide under the sheets without him noticing. He doesn’t wake up, and his breathing falls back into a steady rhythm in a few seconds. Now he’s facing me, one arm under his head and the other one on top of my hand.

When people sleep, their faces get a chance to fully rest. People look serene and even happy while they sleep. The thing about Jace is, as I look at him in the dim light of the hotel room, his face looks exactly as serene as it always does. Maybe Jace isn’t faking his happiness at all. Maybe he truly has found a way to be happy with himself and his life and forget about what everyone else thinks.

I hope someday I can be exactly like him.