Santorini Sunsets (30 page)

She remembered the final fitting at Metal Flaque in Paris. She had studied her reflection in the dressing room mirror and gasped. She was marrying the man of her dreams wearing the most exquisite dress she'd ever seen.

She walked out of the department store and made her way onto the Champs-Élysée. She wanted to hug the doorman and the taxi driver. She stood on the balcony of her suite at the Hôtel de Crillon and thought she would be this happy for the rest of her life.

*   *   *

Now she smoothed her hair and saw Nathaniel's crumpled-up toast on the bedside table. She picked it up and a shiver ran down her spine.

How could she marry Blake while she still had feelings for Nathaniel? All night she'd tossed and turned, thinking she was being ridiculous. She and Nathaniel had been divorced for two years; there was nothing between them.

Just because he had written a wonderful novel, that didn't mean they belonged together. Nathaniel had moved on: he had a flat in London and steady work and probably a dozen different girlfriends.

She pictured Blake's dark hair and green eyes and her shoulders tightened. He was charming and ambitious and they shared the same goals. She thought of dinners at Per Se and weekend trips to Palm Beach and her office filled with yellow roses. She remembered him standing in the lobby of the Hotel Grande Bretagne in Athens and telling reporters to leave them alone or he'd be sleeping in the doghouse.

But she would be the one who was dishonest if she agreed to marry him without being sure she was in love. She thought of everything she'd learned in the last few days: that Blake knew her before the St. Regis gala, that he craved to be part of New York society, that he'd donated to the foundation without telling her.

She gazed at the diamond tiara and wondered if his dishonesty was giving her doubts or if it was something else. It didn't matter the reason, she couldn't walk down the aisle unless she was certain she couldn't be anywhere else.

She suddenly pictured the day Nathaniel walked out of their apartment. She removed his toothpaste from the bathroom and stuffed his white T-shirts in the drawer and was relieved he'd left. Then she sank onto the king-sized bed and wondered if she would ever be happy again.

*   *   *

Now she glanced out the window and thought about the welcome dinner at Kasteli Castle and the cruise to Therasia and the rehearsal dinner at Amoudi Bay. Fifty of their closest friends had flown across the world to celebrate with them in Santorini. How could she tell them that there wasn't going to be a wedding?

She remembered when she was sixteen and came down with a horrible flu. Her mother had planned a sweet sixteen party on the lawn at Summerhill. There was a dance floor and a band and her favorite chocolate fondant cake.

Nathaniel had appeared with a bowl of chicken soup and ordered her to stay in bed. Brigit insisted she should go down and greet her guests, but he'd said everyone was here because they loved her. If attending her own party made her fever rise, she wasn't being fair to anyone.

*   *   *

Their friends had come to Santorini because they wanted the best for Blake and Brigit. They would understand if the wedding was called off for the right reasons.

She bit her lip and wondered if they should postpone the wedding. They'd take a year to really get to know each other. They could have a quiet ceremony at city hall followed by lunch at Tavern on the Green. But she glanced at Nathaniel's crumpled-up toast and thought that wouldn't change anything.

She descended the circular staircase and saw a man standing in the living room. Blake wore a white shirt and navy slacks. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore leather loafers.

“I'm sorry, I'm late. I overslept,” she stammered. “I was going to take a taxi to the hotel.”

“I came home from the night cruise and fell right asleep.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Should I go upstairs and get your wedding dress?”

“It's too delicate to cart around. I thought we'd have breakfast and I'd get dressed at the villa later.” She fiddled with her pink and white diamond bracelet. “I'm starving. I'd love some muesli and tzatziki with walnuts.”

He took her hand and sat on the pastel-colored sofa.

“I listened to your message four times,” he said slowly. “Your voice was different, it was as if you were talking to a stranger.”

“I was exhausted, I couldn't bear the thought of packing my things and sitting in a bumpy taxi.” She tried to smile. “But we still have hours before the ceremony. We can take a swim and sit in the Jacuzzi.” She took a deep breath. “And there's something I want to talk about.”

“I watched you at the rehearsal dinner,” he continued. “It's as though part of you wasn't there. All weekend I feel like you've been moving away when we should be drawing closer together. I thought it was my fault. I shouldn't have invited so many groomsmen or planned all the excursions or rented separate villas.” He paused. “But now I think it's something else.”

Brigit opened her mouth and then closed it. She stood up and paced around the room.

“I could say that it's too soon and we hardly know each other but that would be a lie.” She looked up and her eyes glistened. “I've had the most wonderful time. But I don't think we should get married.”

“What do you mean?” Blake demanded.

“You're handsome and generous and charming.” She fiddled with her earrings. “But I don't think we are quite right for each other. I could never be with someone who isn't completely honest.”

“I may have not told you everything but there was always a good reason,” he protested. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“The first few months of marriage are wonderful,” Brigit mused. “All you want to do is discuss the day over thick steaks and glasses of cabernet. You like all the same movies and agree on the temperature in the bedroom. You think you'll never tire of making love and you can't stop giggling in the elevator.

“But then someone says something at a party and you hurt each other's feelings. You can't understand why I work long hours and I think you've attended too many red carpet galas.” She paused. “Marriage can be difficult but as long as you are honest you can make it work. If you don't have that, you don't have anything.”

“I've been a bachelor all my life. I'm not used to considering how my actions affect someone else. If I know I'm doing the right thing, that's always been enough.” Blake rubbed his forehead. “But I can change, I'm in love with you.”

Brigit took a deep breath. All she had to do was say yes and there would be a wedding. She pictured running upstairs and slipping on her Oscar de la Renta gown. She imagined the white stone church with its stained-glass windows and view of the whole caldera.

Then she saw Nathaniel's wedding present on the grand piano and her chest tightened.

“I don't think so,” she said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Blake whispered.

Brigit glanced at his dark hair and bright green eyes and white smile.

“I'm sure.”

“If you don't mind, I think we should make up a story,” he said. “I came down with food poisoning at the rehearsal dinner and had to be airlifted to Athens. I'll make a complete recovery but we have to call off the wedding.”

“Whatever you want.” Brigit nodded.

“Why don't we take the sailboat and cruise around the Greek islands?” he suddenly suggested. “We'll be alone on the blue Aegean instead of surrounded by actors and senators and Robbie with his silver camera. I'm sure we can figure this out,” he continued, his eyes sparkling. “We don't have to get married as long as we're together. We can take months or a year to see if we're right for each other.”

“You have to report to a movie set in a few weeks and I have to get back to New York,” she replied, her heart beating a little faster. “I think it's better if we make a clean break.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to the entry. He turned around and his green eyes flickered.

“Can I ask a question?”

“What?” Brigit asked.

“Are you sure you aren't still in love with Nathaniel?”

She suddenly pictured Nathaniel appearing in the garden. She saw his short blond hair and navy backpack. Her lips trembled and something shifted inside her.

“He's given me a few things to think about.” She shook her head. “But I have to sort out things with my father and the foundation. This isn't the right time to think about love, I just need to be on my own.”

*   *   *

Brigit smoothed her hair and straightened her skirt. She had insisted on giving Blake back the diamond-and-ruby ring and paying half their expenses. She gave him a small hug and watched him walk out the gate.

Now she had to tell her parents the news. She entered the kitchen and saw the round table set with platters of whole wheat toast and poached eggs and bacon. There was a bowl of cut berries and a pitcher of orange juice.

“Darling, there you are.” Sydney looked up. “Daisy made eggs and your father fried some bacon. It's going to be a long day, you can't exist on a piece of fruit and a cup of coffee.”

“It all looks delicious,” Brigit said weakly.

“I saw Blake come up the steps, you should ask him to join us.” Sydney buttered a slice of toast.

“Blake left,” Brigit replied, sitting next to her father.

“That's probably better. It is bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding.” Sydney smiled. “It seems like such a silly superstition. It's the most exciting day of your life, you want to spend every moment together.”

Brigit took a deep breath and looked at her mother.

“There's not going to be a wedding.”

“What did you say?” Sydney gasped.

“Blake and I decided not to get married.” Brigit's voice wavered. “I'm sorry I dragged you all to Santorini.”

“I don't understand,” Francis interrupted. “Blake gave a wonderful speech at the rehearsal dinner.”

“Why don't you postpone the wedding?” her mother asked. “Maybe it's all been too much: starting a new job and getting an apartment and moving part-time to Los Angeles. You need to take things slower.”

Brigit stood up and walked to the marble counter. She poured a cup of coffee and tried to stop her hands from shaking.

“It was the best thing to do,” she replied. “I'll pay you for the dress and flowers and caterers.”

“Don't be silly, money has nothing to do with it,” Sydney scoffed. She looked at Brigit and her lips trembled. “If you're quite sure.”

“Very sure.” Brigit nodded.

“Then we've had a wonderful vacation in Santorini.” Sydney dusted crumbs from her skirt. “Your father and I were going to spend a few days in Switzerland. We'll change our plans and fly back together.”

“You don't need to do that,” Brigit protested. “Daisy and I will fly back to New York.”

“Actually I'm not going to New York,” Daisy interrupted.

“You're not?” Sydney raised her eyebrow.

“Robbie sent photos of my sketches to a friend who works at Stella McCartney in London,” Daisy continued. “I have an interview next week.”

“Stella McCartney! That's wonderful news.” Her mother beamed. “Your sketches are stunning, they'd be lucky to have you.”

“I don't mind going back alone, I have a lot to do.” Brigit paused. “I've decided not to join the foundation.”

“What do you mean?” Francis asked.

“I need to accomplish some things closer to home before I help people in Asia and Africa,” she explained. “I'm going to go back to Bingham and Stoll if they'll have me. Blake said he still wants to be involved in the foundation and you should get other investors.” She looked at her father. “You could achieve great things without having all the financial obligation.”

“I can't say I'm not relieved.” Sydney smiled. “I won't have to worry about you catching a rare disease. And I'll have someone to have lunch with while your father is visiting some remote village in Ghana.”

“I'm not really hungry.” Brigit pushed back her chair. “I'm going to go pack.”

“What does Nathaniel say about this?” Sydney asked.

Brigit turned around and bit her lip. “I haven't told him.”

*   *   *

Brigit moved around the villa's living room folding wrapping paper and collecting ribbons. It was midafternoon and she'd spent the last few hours canceling caterers and alerting guests.

Her parents were upstairs packing and Daisy had gone to Fira to see Robbie. In a couple of hours they would board the ferry to Athens. She pictured the scene around the kitchen table this morning and smiled. She really did have the most supportive parents and Daisy was going to London! It was wonderful to see her happy and excited.

She heard the front door open and looked up. Nathaniel wore a short-sleeved shirt and carried a blue backpack.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked. “I thought you'd be sequestered in your bedroom with an army of makeup artists and hairdressers. I remember when I wanted to give you a message the morning of our wedding. I was shooed away by a woman holding an electric curling iron.”

“Haven't you read the tabloids or checked online?” Brigit asked.

“I don't read the tabloids.” Nathaniel shrugged. “None of it is true.”

“There's not going to be a wedding,” she said.

“What did you say?” Nathaniel gasped.

“The wedding is called off,” she repeated.

“How could Blake do that?” Nathaniel exclaimed. “Are you feeling alright, would you like a vodka or an aspirin? You must be in shock, why don't you sit down and I'll fix you a drink.”

“I'm quite alright,” Brigit said, sitting on a brocade love seat.