A big straight wedding, p.1
A Big Straight Wedding, page 1
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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A BIG STRAIGHT WEDDING
First edition. January 28, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Sienna Waters.
ISBN: 979-8224417063
Written by Sienna Waters.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Big Straight Wedding
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Epilogue
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About the Author
To N.–
You hold my heart
xxx
Chapter One
George was clutching her hand under the table, sweat bubbling up between his fingers. The cake was on some kind of trolley, big enough to be wheeled into the restaurant dining room. Bigger than any cake Nic had ever seen. For just a brief second she considered pushing George’s face into the thick blue frosting, but the sweatiness of his palms made her take pity on him. Not this time. Not today.
“Happy birthday to you…”
The sound of a hundred voices trying to hit the same note and failing miserably was enough to get Nic to slam her mouth shut and quit singing. She hated this and really, really wished that she hadn’t come. As much as she loved George, there was generally only so far she was willing to go for her friends. And attending birthday parties full of old aunts and creepy uncles was definitely over her normal limit. Still, there hadn’t really been a choice this time. George could hardly do this alone.
“Are we really going to do this?” George asked from the side of his mouth. Outwardly he was grinning and his sleek blonde hair was perfect and his spray tan was perfect and his teeth were definitely perfect.
“Yes!” Nic hissed back.
George grinned wider, but she could see the strain on his face, the tendons standing out in his neck, as his entire family and half his father’s business contacts and a very small handful of friends, those that could be completely trusted only, did their best to serenade him.
“It’s going to be fine,” Nic whispered. “We’ve talked about it. We’ve decided. It’s going to be absolutely fine. It’s a done deal.”
“There’ll be no turning back after this,” he warned, still grinning like a maniac.
“Good,” she said stoutly.
The song ground to a halt and there was a smattering of applause and George leaned forward to blow out the candles, his pants smooth over his tight behind. Nic viewed it dispassionately. It was a nice ass, there was no question about that. The waiter across the room seemed to be admiring it. But it stirred up no sort of feeling for her, no matter how much she tried to imagine her hands on it. It came as kind of a relief, to be honest. Things hadn’t changed on the inside at least.
The applause was louder as George managed the feat of blowing out all twenty five candles and then came the cries of “speech, speech!” George shot her a look.
Now or never.
She could see that he was asking her permission one last time.
But there was no decision to be made here. It had already been decided. She gave a curt nod and George turned a shade paler despite his spray tan. He stood up.
“Thank you, thank you for such a lovely party, for showing up, for singing, for being your usual lovely selves.”
He was good at this, she gave him that. Good at being in public, good at speaking. Well, he was an actor. Kind of. A waiter really, but he wanted to be an actor. As he spoke, she looked around the room, seeing all eyes on him, except for a bored looking face at the end of the table. She caught Sally’s eye. The blue streak in her hair looked out of place among the greys and pearls of George’s elderly relatives.
Sally mimed drinking and nodded over at the bar and Nic was about to scrape her chair back, forgetting for a second why she was here, when a hand fell on her shoulder.
Shit.
It was now.
She prepared herself, arranging her face, looking up at George with as much adoration as she could paint there. Even her hands were sweating now.
“And last, but not least, there is a big announcement. The biggest announcement, in fact.”
The room held its breath and Nic’s head started to swim.
“I’m humbled, proud, nervous, and very, very excited to tell you that yesterday I asked this beautiful woman a very important question.”
Nic almost snorted. As far as she could remember the most important question George had asked her yesterday was ‘where’s the Advil?’ closely followed by ‘if I ever want Tequila again, will you shoot me?’
“And the answer was yes,” he continued. He was beaming down at her and for the first time she understood that he was actually a very good actor indeed. “Nic has agreed to be my wife.”
The cheers were loud enough that they had to be breaking some kind of noise ordinance.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
Sally caught her sleeve as she edged through the crowd to the bathroom, pulling her into a corridor away from prying eyes.
“Uh, I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be saying that,” hissed Sally. “So, what the fuck?”
Nic raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
“No, no, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to suddenly announce your engagement to George in front of your best friend in the whole world who knew absolutely nothing about any of this at all. You don’t get to marry George!”
“Why not?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, I don’t know. Because he’s only twenty five and you’re thirty one. I think that six year age gap is going to be a killer. Why not? Why do you think not?”
“He’s an attractive guy.” She knew she was teasing, putting off the explanation, trying to soothe away the hurt that Sally must feel about not being in the loop.
Sally growled. “You don’t get to tell someone that’s been tongue-deep in your va-jay-jay that you’re marrying an attractive guy. Anyway, George is not attractive. He’s fake and tanned and his teeth are capped. Plus, just in case it slipped by you unnoticed, he’s gayer than gay. He’s so gay that… that…”
“That he can’t even think straight?” supplied Nic, helpfully.
“Right.”
Nic sighed, keeping one eye on the corridor entrance, hoping that no one could overhear them but equally hoping that someone would come and rescue her from this.
“What’s going on, Nic?” asked Sally, more softly, more gently.
“It’s an arrangement.”
“Yeah, I thought as much.” Sally shook her head and the lock of blue at the front of her hair fell into her eyes. She brushed it away. “Nic, you’re being an idiot again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I don’t even need to know the details here. You’re not thinking ahead, not thinking about the consequences, whatever they might be. You’re standing up in front of a room full of people and saying that you’re going to marry a gay man. How the hell can that possibly end happily?”
“Just trust me,” said Nic. She was aching for a drink now.
“You can’t do this. You can’t just run away when all this goes bad, you know, like you usually do.”
“Do not.”
“When things got serious with us you disappeared on a bender for three weeks and I found you in a strip bar in Houston.”
“Which all worked out for the best in the end,” said Nic. “We’re much better off as friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but that’s not my point.”
“What is your point then?” Nic asked, arching her eyebrow again and desperate for that drink.
“There’s so much wrong here that I don’t even know where to start,” Sally said. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and worried.
“Like what?”
“Like, don’t George’s family know that he’s gay? Like, how the hell are you going to have a straight wedding? Like, how could you lie to so many people at once? Like… so much.”
Nic touched her arm. She knew Sally was concerned, knew that she just wanted to help. But this really wasn’t helping. She knew what she was doing. For once, there was a clear and very achievable goal in front of her. Something she knew she could succeed at. “I
Doubt dripped from Sally. Nic could feel it in the air. But it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to being doubted.
“Fine,” Sally said, finally. “Fine. I’ll trust you for now as long as I get all the gory details later.”
Nic grinned. That drink was getting closer, she could smell it. But there was one last thing. Sally was quieter now, the question plain on her face even before she started speaking.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Nic?”
Nic took a deep breath and then told the truth. “Because you’d have tried to stop me.”
Chapter Two
Klara pushed her keyboard away, disgusted and vaguely sickened by the numbers on her screen. Then she sighed. It was a deep sigh, expending enough air that she choked and coughed until her eyes watered.
“Jesus, I can’t even sigh right,” she muttered to herself, grabbing a tissue from the box on her desk.
The tissue box was important. You should never underestimate just how emotional people could get about weddings. Sure, she had crying brides, either due to happiness or cold feet. But she also had crying mothers and mothers-in-law, mothers usually had happy tears, mothers-in-law were more likely to have regretful ones in her experience. There was even the odd crying groom.
She smiled, remembering a wedding the previous month. Gavin and Todd were the epitome of gym rats, all toned, tanned and big muscles. They’d also cried more than any other couple she’d ever met. She’d had to replace the tissue box after every appointment with them. Not that she minded. It was cute, adorable really, they were just so in love with each other that they couldn’t always hold it in.
The office was as large as she could afford. But it looked smaller. The walls were papered with photographs and fabric samples and invitation ideas, there were stacks of sample books on every available surface. Maybe she should have a clear-out. Maybe that would make her feel better.
She was half-heartedly stacking up yet more sample books and bridal magazines when the door opened.
“Don’t bother knocking,” she said.
“Wouldn’t dream of disturbing you,” said Jet. She had a large camera bag slung over her shoulder and a cardboard coffee cup in each hand.
“But just marching in isn’t disturbing me at all?”
Jet peered around. “Well, in order to be disturbing you I think you actually have to be doing something. And I don’t see any clients around. In fact, you’re just standing in the middle of your office with a magazine in your hand. So if anything, I think I’m rescuing you, rather than disturbing you.” She held up one hand. “And I brought you coffee.”
Klara grinned and took the peace offering. The office coffee machine technically worked, if dripping out pale brown burnt-tasting liquid counted as working, but take-out was so much better.
“So, how’s the wedding planning business?” Jet asked, dumping her bag, sagging into a chair and kicking her feet up onto the desk.
Klara snuck a glance at her computer screen. “Don’t ask.”
“Uh-huh. One of those days, is it?”
“One of those weeks, one of those months, one of those years.” She sighed again, making a better job of it this time. At least she didn’t end up choking.
“It’s a quiet time of year,” said Jet.
“Really? For weddings? And where exactly have you just been?” she asked, eyeing Jet’s camera bag.
“Ugh. Fine. A wedding.”
“One that I didn’t plan.”
“You don’t plan all weddings.”
“I’m hardly planning any weddings, which is kind of the point,” Klara said. She sipped at her coffee. It was pleasingly warm and tasted of hazelnut.
“Things will get better.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
Two years. Two years since she’d struck out on her own, leaving a salaried job at one of the biggest and busiest wedding planning studios in the city. And what exactly had she achieved in that time? A packed office and a bank account that was perilously close to empty.
And happiness, she reminded herself. Her eye caught the selection of wedding pictures on her desk, most of them Jet’s work. She gave happiness. She worked with happiness every day. She strived to give couples the wedding of their dreams. It was an important job, a fulfilling one.
“Hey, earth to Klara!”
“Yep, sorry, right here. What’s up?”
“I was asking about your date.” Jet’s boots wiggled on her desk top.
Ah. The date. Possibly the reason she wasn’t exactly in the brightest of moods today. “It, um, it went.”
“It went? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jet shaved her head. A look that Klara was simultaneously shocked by and in awe of. It definitely suited her, though it surprised a fair few clients. And it had the side-effect of making her expressions that much more noticeable. Her heavily lined eyes looked wider, her lips looked redder, and her eyebrows were even more questioning when they arched, as they were currently doing.
“Seriously? You want to go into this now? I’m sitting here heart-broken and you want to grill me on the specifics.”
“Since I don’t know the specifics, how the hell was I supposed to know that you were heart-broken?” grumbled Jet.
“Fine. We had dinner. It was nice. I walked her to the parking lot. She got in her car and drove off.”
“Ugh. Really? No good night kiss? No ‘see you next time’? No ‘I had a wonderful night’?”
“Nope.”
“I thought Julie was supposed to be the love of your life.”
“Judy,” corrected Klara. “And I never said she was the love of my life.”
“You waltzed in here on cloud nine after a brief stop at the deli two blocks away and announced to everyone present that you’d met ‘the one.’”
“Everyone present? You mean you?”
Jet took her feet down and turned to face the desk straight on. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming in that sentence?”
“Probably because there is,” Jet said. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out but… you really need to be more careful, Klara.”
“I’m always careful. I met her in a public place and everything.”
Jet shook her head. “I meant more careful with your heart. You practically give it away and then wonder why you get hurt all the time. You are the only person I know that has, quite literally, fallen in love at the drop of a hat.”
Klara felt her cheeks get warm at the memory of it. She’d been on the metro when the woman across the way from her had dropped her winter hat. They’d both bent at the same time to pick it up and their hands had touched and their eyes had met and… And she’d never seen her again. Despite pining after her for a good month and spending every spare moment she had riding the metro on the same line.
“I’m open minded,” she said now. “I’m willing to accept love whenever it appears.”
“You’re consistently setting yourself up to get hurt,” Jet said. “Don’t tell me that Julie-Judy just walking away last night didn’t sting at least a little.”
Tears had pricked her eyes as she’d watched Judy drive away. She’d really thought they had a connection. Not that she was going to admit that now. She shrugged and Jet sighed.
“You know, maybe closing this place down and working somewhere else might be a good thing.”
“Don’t even think that.”
Jet looked at her. “Think about it. You spend all day surrounded by love. It makes sense that you’re over-eager to get your share, that you want what you constantly see all the time.”
