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I got into bed on my side and rolled to the middle, to rest against Neil’s body beneath the covers. He hit the lights via the remote, bringing them up so we wouldn’t fall asleep without dinner.
“Well, I heard some big news today.” I lay on my back and smoothed the blanket across my chest. I folded my hands primly atop the blankets. “Holli and Deja are engaged.”
“Are they?” Neil’s eyebrows shot up. “Rudy didn’t say a word about it to me.”
“From what I hear, you and Rudy had quite the celebration.”
“I wouldn’t say that. We toasted to my good fortune, is all. And then we had a bit of a boozy lunch.” He fell serious. “But I did warn him not to keep it private so I wish he wouldn’t have mentioned it to Deja. I want to tell Emma the news in person, and I’m afraid—”
“That she’ll hear it from Valerie, who heard it from the office.” I nodded, my hair rasping against the pillowcase. “I got it. Deja would never spread gossip she got from an employer. She’s a better assistant than I ever was.”
“Oh good. I was hesitant even to mention it. But you know.”
I did know. One of the biggest issues Neil was working on in counseling was learning to tell me things like this the moment he thought them. Neil had a terrible habit of thinking relatively minor things were potentially hurtful, so he just didn’t tell me about them. He’d done it when he’d decided to give me an enormous share of his estate and consulted with Valerie about it instead of coming to me, and when he’d planned his funeral and shared the details with Valerie, but not with Emma and me. He was doing way better on confronting his avoidance issues than I was.
I scooted into the crook of his arm and laid my head against his chest. “Holli and Deja have already set the date,” I said, gently wheedling.
Neil’s sleepy chuckle rumbled under my ear. “Oh, have they?”
“And they were all, ‘when are you getting married?’ But they’re doing it in like, August. Eight months to plan a whole wedding, that’s insanity. You need at least…”
“I’m beginning to feel that you’re hinting at something.” He stopped his slow stroking of my hair against my back and sighed. “Believe me when I say that my reluctance to jump with both feet into wedding planning has nothing to do with you.”
“I know, you’re busy with Emma’s big day. And that’s fine.” It really was. I didn’t want to get into hardcore planning, myself, especially now that I was going to be Holli’s maid of honor in less than seven months. “I just want a date.”
“Well, the date will largely depend on the availability of the venue, won’t it?” Neil gently eased me off him and sat up.
“I guess I hadn’t thought of that.” He had a point. “Where do you want to get married? Besides ‘not Italy.’”
He thought for a moment. “Well, let’s narrow down the continent. We could get married at Langhurst Court. It’s a popular wedding venue. I’ve seen some of the photos in the brochure, though obviously our wedding wouldn’t have to follow the tourist package at all—”
“You let strangers get married in your house?” I shrieked. “Neil, that is incredibly weird!”
“It pays for upkeep,” he protested. “All right. You have a large extended family. Perhaps we should do the wedding here, in New York. The travel would be less complicated for them.”
“Good plan. Get married in New York. A lot of your business friends are here, too.”
A New York wedding. Since I’d never seriously planned to get married, I’d never fantasized about such a thing. Besides, I doubted I could ever imagine anything on the scale that Emma had dreamed up. I knew I should be the stereotypical New York bride and demand the Plaza, but it seemed clichéd. “Do you have anywhere particular in mind?”
“The Plaza is quite nice,” Neil said, almost too quickly. At my raised eyebrow he said defensively, “Look, it isn’t that I’ve never thought of marrying you. I’d like to see you walking down the aisle in the Terrace Room. In your beautiful white gown—”
“Whoa there, partner. That much white would wash me out. And it buys into that whole purity culture bullshit. Nuh-uh.” I shook my head firmly. “But we can put the Plaza on the list.”
“What about St. Patrick’s? That would please your mother,” Neil suggested. “We could do the reception at the rooftop gardens at Rockefeller Center.”
“There is no priest in his right mind who’ll let us get married in the church. I’m your second marriage, you’re not Catholic, and I haven’t been to mass in seven years. Oh, and we had that abortion, which you know, Catholic Church, not huge abortion fans.”
“Hmm, and the ‘no sex until after the wedding’ clause is probably non-negotiable?” He frowned. “There’s the Mandar
in, they have a lovely ballroom. It’s very modern, if that’s what you’re going for.”
“I suppose we’ll have to really look at our options, huh?” My excitement deflated at the thought of going through what Emma was going through. Then I brightened. “Well…more of a reason to set the date then.”
He winced.
Okay, that wasn’t cool. “Um…is there something you want to tell me?”
“No, it’s not…” he sighed heavily. “It isn’t that I don’t want to get married. I do. I wouldn’t have proposed to you if I didn’t. I’m just not looking forward to the wedding. I’m looking forward very much to being married to you. But the last time I did this, the wedding marked the beginning of the end. Now that I’ve actually proposed, it’s all much more real to me.”
