Lovestruck Forever (10 page)

Wedding
or not.

Sofie
didn’t call that night, or the next morning. When I finally got
sick of waiting and called her cell, she didn’t answer.

It
wasn’t until two days later that I finally heard from her.
“I’ve decided to wait,” she said firmly before I
even had a chance to say hello.

“Wait?
To tell them, you mean?”

“Yes.
I have a doctor’s appointment in three weeks. I’ll tell
them after that.”

She
was going to wait three weeks? “Sofie—”

“Look,
what if I’m wrong?” I couldn’t help but notice the
hopeful note in her voice. “People get false positives all the
time, right? It’d be pretty dumb to tell them and get them all
worked up for nothing.”

“Oh,
Sof.” I didn’t know how to tell her that I thought she
was more than likely being delusional. I could understand her wanting
to be in denial. It was a natural reaction to her circumstance. But
waiting to deal with it wasn’t going to make it any easier.

“Look,”
she said, her voice suddenly weary. “I know I sound like I’m
full of it. I just…I can’t deal with it yet. If that
makes me a coward, so be it.”

“You’re
not a coward. This is a scary situation. I just don’t want you
to think it’s something you can keep putting off.”

She
sighed. “I know. I just…I just need a little more time.”

“Are
you sure you don’t want me to come over when you tell them?”

“I
can do it, Lizzie.” She sounded a little annoyed, so I decided
to drop it. She knew I was there for her when she was ready to talk
about it.

The
next day was a Wednesday, which meant spending the day with my mom.
My dad had taken quite a leave of absence from work after her
aneurysm to help with her recovery, but there was only so much time
off that he could afford. We’d been able to arrange many of her
therapy sessions for early evening, allowing him to take her.
Wednesdays, however, were her long day. Every week, I would accompany
her to both speech and physical therapy. Afterward, I would usually
try to take her shopping or out to lunch so she wouldn’t get
stir crazy. She couldn’t drive any more and, spending so much
of her time stuck at home or in therapy, I thought it was important
to give her a change of scenery and something else to focus on.

That
Wednesday, however, she seemed tired and asked to go straight home. I
stopped off at a local deli to get us both sandwiches, not in the
mood to cook. Over lunch, she told me about how her seclusion might
change soon. “They think I might be able to drive by the end of
the month,” she said, obviously excited about the prospect.

“That’s
great, Mom.”

There
was a part of me that was nervous at the prospect. Though she spent
time alone at the house, the idea of her being out and about—and
alone—made me anxious. What if she had another aneurysm, or her
muscle memory failed her? What if she had a car accident? It wasn’t
fair to her, I knew, but so long as she wasn’t alone I didn’t
have to worry about her.

“It
would be perfect timing,” she went on, “with the wedding
coming up and all. It would be easier to have a car for all the
errands I’m sure will pop up as we get further in.”

I
felt my stomach dip. Here was my chance, then. I could tell her about
London without any interference from my sisters or my dad. She would
understand, wouldn’t she? I couldn’t imagine that she’d
be mad at me—disappointed, maybe, but not mad.

“Oh,
that reminds me, I have something for you.”

Before
I could offer to go myself, she pulled herself to her feet and made
her way to the staircase. “Mom, let me go.”

“Why
don’t you come with me,” she countered. So I joined her
on the stairs, resisting the urge to take her arm. She leaned heavily
on the bannister, tired from her therapy, but her steps were strong
and sure.

In
her bedroom, she picked up a box from the top of her dresser and
brought it to the bed. “What’s that?” It looked
like an oversized clothing box, the kind of thing you’d get
when you bought a gift at the department store.

“It’s
for you, if you want it.” She pulled the lid from the box
revealing a mass of gauzy white tulle and lace.

“What
is it?” I breathed, reaching out a finger to touch the soft,
silky tulle.

She
reached in and pulled the fabric out, shaking it slightly so that it
spread out over her lap. I realized what it was as soon as she began
to speak. “This, Lizzie, was my mother’s veil. I wore
this at my wedding. And I’d like you to wear it at yours.”

I
was speechless. I’d seen pictures of the veil before, in old
wedding albums. I knew that if I held it up to my head it would
easily reach the floor. The silky, impossibly fine tulle was lined
along the edges with lace so delicately crafted I was almost afraid
to touch it.

“This
is a traditional mantilla,” she said, holding it up a little so
I could better see the lace. “It might be a bit old fashioned,
but it’s still in very good shape.”

“It’s
gorgeous,” I breathed, wondering how on earth it had managed to
stay un-yellowed after all these years. “I didn’t know
you still had it.”

“I
wouldn’t have given something like this up.”

“Yeah,
but the girls didn’t wear it. I figured it was discolored or
something.” I thought back to Maria’s and Laura’s
weddings. They’d both bought new veils to match their dresses.

“They
didn’t think it went well with the style of their gowns,”
my mom explained. “It’s too old fashioned. And the color
is more of an ivory than a bright white, like their dresses were.”

I
ran my fingers along the lace again. I couldn’t believe they’d
had the option to wear something so beautiful and had turned it down
in favor of something more modern. Given the option to wear this
veil, I would choose a dress purely on the basis of it matching.

“It
might not go with your dress, either,” my mom said. She smiled.
“But I figured since you were romantic, like me, it might be
your style.” She touched my hand, her face serious. “Don’t
feel like you have to wear it, Lizzie. It’s completely up to—”

“I
love it.” I held out my hands. “May I hold it?” She
placed the veil in my hands, and I ran my fingers over it, rubbing
the lace lightly. “It’s the prettiest veil I’ve
ever seen. I
have
to wear it.”

She
smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “I won’t pretend I’m
not happy to hear it. I always pictured you in it.”

I
looked up at her, feeling close to tears myself. “You did?”

She
nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “Ever since you
were a little girl, I would imagine what you would look like on your
wedding day. You were always so beautiful in my mind, Lizzie, just
like you grew up to be.” She gave me a self-deprecating smile
as she wiped her eyes. “Look at me, how silly. I just can’t
believe you’re getting married already—I still think of
you as my little one. But soon you’ll be walking down the aisle
at our church, just like I did, just like your sisters and your
cousins. Just like I always dreamed you would. Where did the time
go?”

She
continued to muse, but I barely heard her. I had suddenly gone cold
all over. She had pictured my wedding my entire life. Had pictured me
in this veil, getting married in the same church she had been married
in. How could I tell her that I didn’t want that? That I’d
rather be married in a foreign country, with only our closest family
in attendance? That I didn’t want to be married in our family
church?

If
shaken before, my resolve was completely shattered when she placed a
hand on my cheek. “You know, when I was in the hospital, I used
to worry that I would never see the day. I can’t tell you how
happy I am to be here for this, Lizzie. To be able to witness this
wedding, just the way I always imagined it.”

“I’m
happy too, Mama,” I murmured, allowing her to pull me into a
hug. My throat was dry.

I
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t shatter her dreams for my
wedding. Maybe that made me weak, and maybe Thomas would be
disappointed in me, but I just couldn’t do it. We were just
going to have to get married here.

***

I
planned to tell Thomas about my conversation with my mom that night,
but he ended up having news of his own that actually took my mind off
the wedding. I knew something was going on as soon as he walked into
the house. I was sitting at the kitchen counter, making a shopping
list. When I had left my parents’ house, I realized they were
low on several essentials. Groceries were a lot more complicated
whenever I was shopping for both us and my parents. But even my
rumination on how much ground beef was appropriate for two households
was forgotten when I saw the look on his face.

“What’s
going on?” I asked, my shopping list forgotten.

“What?”
he asked, freezing in the act of slipping off his messenger bag. “Why
do you think something’s going on?”

“Because
you have that look on your face. The look that says you’re
excited about something, but you don’t want to jinx yourself by
telling me.”

He
tossed the messenger bag on the counter and came around the side to
kiss me hello. “You’re like a physic or something.”

“I
just know you,” I said, looking up into his familiar face. His
eyes were bright, his cheeks slightly flushed. Even his breathing was
quicker than normal. “So tell me, what’s going on?”

“I
just talked to Heidi,” he burst out, clearly unable to hold it
in a moment longer. “She called on my way home.”

My
eyes widened. “Yeah? Did you talk about looking for a project?”

“That’s
the thing.” He perched on the bar stool next to me, his eyes
intense. “She actually came across a project already and was
calling to tell me about it.”

“Well,
it must be pretty good to make you look like that.”

“Lizzie,
you won’t believe it. They offered me the lead in the
adaptation of
Journey
.
Offered
it, Lizzie. They didn’t ask me to audition—it’s
mine for the taking.”

“Holy
shit,” I murmured, my hand going to my open mouth. That was a
big deal—a huge deal, actually. To be offered a role without so
much as a screen test was big time, the kind of thing that happened
to the crème de la crème of the A-list actors. As if
that wasn’t enough,
Journey
was Thomas’s favorite book. He’d been coveting the lead
role ever since we’d first heard rumors the rights to the
adaptation had sold.

“This
is amazing,” I said, shaking my head to remove the shock.
“Thomas!” I let out a little squeal, throwing my arms
around his neck. “I’m so excited for you!”

“There’s
a catch,” he said quickly, grabbing my hands from behind his
head and pulling them to his chest. He peered down at me, his gaze
intense. “It starts shooting in a month.”

“A
month?”

“I
know it’s not ideal. I know we were planning for me to not work
until after the wedding. I guess production got moved up, and the
actor they were in talks with had scheduling conflicts.” He
looked down, and I could sense the struggle in his demeanor. “I
told her you and I needed to talk about it, that I wasn’t ready
to make any decisions—”

“You’re
taking it,” I said immediately. “Don’t be
ridiculous.”

He
couldn’t hide the hope in his eyes, though he tried to argue.
“Lizzie, I’d have to go back to London in just a few
weeks to get ready—”

“Then
you go back to London in a few weeks.”

“But
we have a wedding to plan.”

I
crossed my arms. “I thought you wanted to hire a wedding
planner because you’re such a fancy rich movie star?”

He
grinned for just a moment before his face turned serious again. “I
don’t want to leave you to do everything. I don’t want to
leave you period. I would hate to be away from you for the next few
months.”

It
was my turn to look down at the counter. I didn’t like the idea
much myself. But there was no way I was going to let Thomas turn down
this offer. It was his dream role, shooting in his favorite city. He
had to do it.

“Look,
I don’t need to be here quite so regularly now,” I told
him, making my voice as strong as I could. “My mom is doing
much better. All of her therapy is being reduced. They even told her
she can start driving soon. I can split my time between home and
London. We’ll make it work.”

He
was already shaking his head. “We said we weren’t going
to do long distance anymore, Lizzie.”

“Thomas,
it’s
Journey
,”
I argued. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We can
handle being apart for a few weeks.”

“It’s
longer than a few weeks—”

I
smiled. “I’m trying to play it cool, mister.”

Thomas
squeezed my hands. “I don’t want you to play it cool. I
don’t want you to pretend—”

“I
didn’t say I was pretending. I want you to do this, Thomas. I
really do.”

“What
about the wedding?”

I
swallowed. “If we have the wedding here, we would have more
help than we could ever need with the planning. We wouldn’t
even need to hire a planner. Hell, they’d barely even need me
to pull it off.”

“Lizzie—”

“Besides,”
I went on, trying to sound more sure about it then I felt. “It
will mean a lot to my family, having it here.”

“Yeah,
but what about you?” He bent a little so to better peer into my
eyes. “I hate you making a decision like this based on what
they want.”

I
shrugged. “A wedding is about family, isn’t it? I want
them to feel like they’re a part of this, a part of our
relationship. It means a lot to me that they want to be involved.”

“I
don’t know, Lizzie.”

“I
talked to my mom today,” I admitted. “She gave me her
mom’s veil, the one she wore in her wedding. And she told me
about how she’s always dreamed of this, of me getting married
in the same church as everyone else. I wanted to talk to her about
London, but how could I after that?”