The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) (34 page)

“I’m so sorry, but no,” Fawn said. “I love
you guys but I’m spending tonight all by myself. I arranged it with
the staff an hour ago. I’ll have my own cabin and nobody will know
where I am. I’ve got a hot tub, my music, a nice book, lavender
oils, and the stars. The real ones, not the famous kind.” She
smiled at each of them. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow at
seven. No makeup—I’ll take care of that. Hair, too, and dresses.
And I want to give each of you a little something.”

“Tux. You promised a tux,” Betty said.

“Of course. You and Huntley’s sister both.”
Fawn grinned. “I can’t wait to see how Dear Old Mom reacts when the
two of you walk down the aisle arm in arm.”

“So long as we don’t have to get ceremonially
hitched at the altar in some kind of straight liberal guilt fest,
I’m cool with it,” Betty said. “Is she as hot as her brother?”

“Touch her during the service and you die,”
Fawn said.

Betty laughed.

Pushing the gratin around on her plate, Lucy
tried not to think about having to endure the ceremony at Miles’s
side. All day, having to smile and act happy for Fawn and Huntley
when all she wanted was to get the hell out of there and forget the
disgusted look on Miles’s face when she suggested a future
together.

“Come on, girls,” Krista said, looking around
the table. “We had a plan!”

“Now you sound like Lucy,” Fawn said.

“We’ve wrapped the party favors and
everything!”

Lucy lifted her drink. “It’s just chocolate.
In obscene shapes.”

Another kick. This time it was obviously
Krista, because she followed it up by taking away Lucy’s gin and
tonic. “Stop drinking. Save your meager tolerance for the
party.”

“There isn’t going to be a party.” Lucy
snatched it back so roughly it spilled over her knuckles. “Because
that’s what
Fawn
wants and we
love
her.”

“Fawn’s just saying that because
some
of us have made such a
mess
of our lives we can’t handle
being with other people.”

“I’ll be fine,” Betty said. “Jaynette will be
psyched I’m free tonight.”

“I meant Lucy!” Krista cried.

“Oh. Well, she’s earned a little sexcapade,
don’t you think? Being engaged to that gay guy all those years.”
Betty ran her hand through the green side of her hairdo. “If she
wants to spend another night with a straight man, I say we let her.
Hell, I’ll set up the mood lighting.”

“Dan was not gay,” Lucy said, wondering if
that was true. “And I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight.”

Fawn gave her a sharp look.

“His eyebrows were skinnier than mine are,”
Betty said.

“He was fastidious, that’s all,” Lucy
said.

“Wouldn’t go down on you, would he?” Betty
asked.

“Betty!” Krista gasped, looking around them
at the restaurant. Betty’s voice tended to carry. Especially when
she was talking about female reproductive organs in public. “Just
because you have a unibrow doesn’t—”

“I do not. Look. Asian girl here.” Betty gave
Lucy a knowing nod. “He was gay. Have fun tonight.”

Lucy focused on her halibut alfredo, not
wanting to talk about how little fun she was going to have.

“Before I go, I need to tell you all
something,” Fawn said suddenly.

Lucy stopped chewing. Fawn looked
nervous.

“Back when Huntley and I planned this
wedding,” she began, “we were afraid his parents would never really
accept me. So we figured we’d move into my place in Berkeley for a
while, take a break from our jobs, plan our life together.” Fawn
dropped her gaze to her wine. “And then, when his parents came
around, we’d move to New York.”

Lucy forced herself to swallow the lump of
potato in her mouth. “You’re moving to New York?”

Full of concern, Fawn’s eyes met hers. She
nodded.

“Cool,” Betty said. “Can we visit?”

“Definitely. I insist,” Fawn said.

Lucy smiled, but she felt hot tears
threatening. “Right after the honeymoon?”

“I wanted to break it to you more gently, but
all of a sudden Rosalind and Huntley are really nice and talking
about buying us a place—in Manhattan!—as a wedding gift, and there
was no time.”

Krista had the nerve to nudge Lucy under the
table again before reaching across the table to Fawn. “We’re happy
for you.”

After returning Krista’s kick in the shin,
Lucy lifted a glass to the bride. Fawn travelled a lot, but her
home base had always been in California. Now, with both her career
and her new family on the East Coast, they’d grow apart. They’d
learn about their lives from Christmas cards and emails, birth
announcements.
People
magazine.

She would
not
cry. “To Fawn,” Lucy
said. “The most beautiful person I know, inside and out.”

They all clinked glasses and drank, even
Krista. Everyone was sniffling.

Fawn jumped up and went around the table to
kiss each one of them. “I’d better go before I change my mind. On
everything. I love you guys so much.” She got to Lucy and
whispered, “We’ll talk later.”

“I’m fine. Enjoy yourself,” Lucy said,
squeezing her arm.

When she was gone, Krista told Lucy, “This is
all your fault.” Then she scowled at Betty. “And yours.”

“Make up your mind.” Betty pulled out her
cell, studied the screen, looked back at Krista. “Uh, any chance I
can have the cabin tonight? Jaynette’s roommate is back.”

Krista rolled her eyes. “I swear, you are
such a frat boy. What next, hanging your underwear on the doorknob
to warn me you’re busy?”

Lucy gulped down the rest of her drink and
felt the fire course down to her belly. Clearing the air with
Krista wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it was on her to-do
list. And it might help her feel better. “You can sleep in my
cabin, Krista,” Lucy said. “Obviously Fawn won’t be there.”

“What about the big guy?” Betty said.

Lucy shrugged, trying to look casual. She’d
tell them all about it later when her feelings weren’t so raw. “Not
tonight.”

“Actually, I don’t need either cabin,” Krista
said softly. She glanced at Lucy before taking a big gulp of her
wine. “I’ll be with Alex.”

It shouldn’t have bothered Lucy, but it did.
Everyone pairing up, moving on.

“What about the bachelor party?” Betty
asked.

“After that. They’re making it an early
night, too.”

“Sure they are,” Betty said. “Watch him show
up drunk and missing a front tooth.”

“No, Huntley insisted he wants to keep it
mellow.”

“And you’re not sleeping with Miles? Not even
for one last fling?” Betty asked Lucy.

Both of them looked at her. They wouldn’t be
alone tonight, wondering if they’d done the right thing, if they
were brave or a coward. She forced a smile and shook her head.

“Ah, well,” Betty said. “There’s always
tomorrow night.”

Miles stood under the rose arbor in a flood
of sunshine. The ceremony was only moments away, not on the beach
but in a courtyard of an old Mediterranean-style villa that
predated the spa by a hundred years. Only a half mile east of the
Greeting Lot, through the forest and over a ridge, the villa and
original vineyard was the spa’s acknowledgement that wealthy guests
would want convenience and glamor, not just rustic eccentricity,
for their biggest events.

Golden stone walls surrounded them,
semi-ruined but picturesque, overrun with vining jasmine and wild
roses. Artful ruin was good ambiance, Miles supposed, though in his
opinion the faux-distressed bricks were overdone. They could have
used the cheap new kind and just bombed the place.

Shielded from wind and bathed in warm sun, he
had to admit the courtyard was an idyllic spot for a famously
photogenic pair’s wedding. The guests sat in curved rows of white
lattice-back chairs hung with floral garlands, their eyes fixed on
the groom and his best man, waiting for the fun to begin.

The elder Sterlings sat in the front row,
looking as pleased as Miles had ever seen them. No doubt relieved
by the classy setting. Or maybe they were actually happy for their
son.

In a row behind them, Miles’s father sat next
to Heather, who wore an enormous yellow hat. His dad looked tired
and old in a gray suit, his body leaning away from his brightly
colored wife. But for a moment, he glanced up and met Miles’s gaze,
and something vivid and affectionate passed between them.
Remembering their night at the bar, maybe, or acknowledging the
irony of celebrating another marriage when his fourth was in
trouble.

And then he pointedly glanced at Heather and
rolled his eyes. Miles swallowed a smile.

The groom, however, wasn’t enjoying himself.
Rigid and silent, Huntley stared down the aisle with his hands
clutched in a vice grip in front of him.

Thinking of Lucy, Miles sank back into his
own misery.

“She’s not coming,” Huntley said.

“Of course she is.” Miles felt around in his
pocket for Fawn’s ring to confirm for the tenth time it was still
there. Their little ring bearer, one of Huntley’s cousins, had
panicked and thrown up over the elder Huntley’s shoes. He’d been
mercifully relieved of his duties.

Though Miles would have appreciated a wild
night of bar hopping, strip clubs, gambling, and other celebratory
vice, Huntley insisted on dinner (one beer), a movie (French), and
an early return to the spa. Alex enjoyed it (he chose the
restaurant and the movie), but Miles would much have rather sat it
out, alone, in his cabin.

To scheme.

He still couldn’t understand where he’d gone
wrong with Lucy. And how to make it right.

Sitting near a fountain near the back, the
string quartet switched from Bach to Handel. Heads turned, bodies
shifted, gazes moved up the aisle to capture the first glimpse of
the bride.

“I’m going to be sick,” Huntley said, smiling
through a clenched jaw.

His skin did look a little green next to his
slicked-back pale hair. Keeping the groom from upchucking at the
altar was probably top of the best man’s List of Duties.

Betty and Courtney, Huntley’s sister, began
walking down the aisle, arm-in-arm in their tuxedos. A mumbled
reaction rippled through the crowd but the women were up for it.
They approached with their chins high, dead serious.

“Not going to make it,” Huntley muttered.

“Knock knock,” Miles said quickly.

Next, Krista and Alex appeared. The two
looked good together. Quite comfortable with each other, actually.
Their hips brushed against each other’s while they walked, and both
looked happier than they had all week.

Guess Alex made a late night of it after
all.

“Who’s there,” Huntley replied.

“Orange,” Miles said.

“Orange who?”

“Orange I cute in a tuxedo?”

Huntley let out a little breathy laugh, but
his heart wasn’t in it. “Is it too late to move this to the
beach?”

“I’m game,” Miles said.

Then Lucy appeared and he forgot about
Huntley. Just the other day he’d had her. The perfect woman. He’d
always thought she was beautiful, but now—now she was breathtaking.
Red hair, green eyes, pale skin, a knockout dress that plunged and
curved in all the right places.

It hurt to look at her.

Give it up. She wants an aquarium-loving
sperm donor, not you,
he told himself.

“Knock knock,” Huntley said.

Lucy’s dress was pale pink, almost white.
Like a bride.“Who’s there,” Miles barely managed to say.

His
bride.

He told his heart to calm down. It wasn’t his
wedding. Lucy was wearing
pink
.
Everything’sfinedeepbreath
.

Lucy looked nervous. She didn’t have the
carefree good humor of a bridesmaid. With her eyes fixed on the
ground, she walked unnaturally slowly after Alex and Krista, a
fixed smile on her face.

Everyone else faded away. His chest felt
tight. Her cheeks were flushed with color.

His little redhead.

No, not his. Not anymore.

“Banana,” Huntley said.

Her hair gleamed like fire.

Huntley nudged him in the ribs. “Banana.”

Miles glanced at him. Sighed. “Banana
who?”

“Banana I cute in my tuxedo?”

He turned his gaze back on Lucy. She was only
a few feet away from them now, and apparently wasn’t going to lift
her eyes from the ground. “Very banana,” he said vaguely.

“You’re worse off than I am,” Huntley said,
just as the flower girl burst into the aisle holding her white
basket.

Got that right
.

They didn’t go home until tomorrow. He still
had a chance.

* * *

The wedding attendants flanked the bride and
groom, three on each side, facing the important couple and the
middle-aged woman who was officiating the vows.

Don’t cry
, Lucy told herself.

She was a capable, sensible person. It didn’t
make any sense to cry just because her friend and her friend’s
chosen mate were saying a few words to each other in front of
hundreds of people.

“You complete me,” Fawn said.

Oh, God, even worse. She was going to lose it
with a
cliché.

“You had me at hello,” Huntley said right
before he kissed her.

I give up,
Lucy thought as the tears
broke over her eyelashes, artfully lacquered with waterproof
mascara, and trailed down her cheeks. At least she’d had the brains
to smuggle a few tissues inside her bouquet. She pulled one out
during Fawn’s reciting of an e.e.cummings poem and dabbed at her
eyes.

She risked a peek at Miles. Unfortunately, he
wasn’t absorbed with the ceremony and crying into a tissue.

He was staring right at her. Electric shocks
tingled down her spine.