I'm Your Man (31 page)

I didn't know why I was surprised to see them. Not only had my father and William Meyers done business together for years, but our mothers were friends, too. Neither of them was looking at me. They were watching Gretchen walk up the aisle. If they only knew she was carrying their grandchild.

I'd had my doubts about how the bridesmaids would look in different outfits that could have been clashing shades of purple, but somehow it worked. Gretchen had worried needlessly. She not only looked trim, but I was going to get a lot of leverage out of lipstick lesbian jokes. When she took her place across from Daniel, I heard him tell her that she was beautiful. It was the first time I'd ever seen her blush.

Her eyes moved to me and a flicker of understanding passed between us. Sydney could do her worst with her hateful tongue. Whatever rituals the straight world denied us, not only did we have bonds of friendship most of them would never understand, but Gretchen and I shared something no one could take away from us. The tension I'd felt since seeing my parents melted. I was standing next to the man I loved, and the mother of my child was smiling at both of us.

There was a stir as Faizah came up the aisle. Even if years of runway work hadn't taught her how to command attention, her height was imposing. As she took her place across from me, she said, “If this was really the forties, Faizah would be in the kitchen wearing an apron.”

Josh's nervous guffaw was cut off as we saw Sheila move to the doorway between her parents. We all held our breath as they glided under the ceiling fans with their crystal fixtures, probably expecting the curse of Nora to bring the tent down on us.

“I think I'm going to cry,” Daniel said, looking at Sheila.

I had tears in my eyes, too. She had all the glamour of Rita Hayworth and the other pinup girls of a bygone era. Her dress was tightly sleek, making the most of her slender, leggy beauty. Once she had left her parents and joined us at the altar, she hugged each of her bridesmaids, then turned to us. I wasn't sure what she said to Jake, but I heard her whisper to Daniel, “You made up, didn't you?” After he nodded, she turned to me with that dazzling, million-dollar overbite and said, “That's the best wedding present I've gotten.”

Then she was Josh's. Vows were repeated, rings were exchanged—I'd never been as happy to get rid of anything—then came the kiss that meant we'd done it. More than a year of planning had finally ended, and it was time to relax. Once the guests had been ushered from the wedding tent to the reception tent, we were brought back in for the pictures, all of us giddy with relief that it was over without any disasters.

Sheila had chosen not to have a receiving line since there were too many guests, so I mingled, making contact with editors from various fashion magazines I'd worked with on ad campaigns. Wherever we were, Daniel and I occasionally caught each other's eyes before we moved on. As night fell, I stored away mental snapshots to talk about with him later. Josh and Sheila dancing. People laughing appreciatively at my toast, although I couldn't remember a word I'd said. Blythe and Kate Hudson giggling hysterically about something. Models watching enviously as people stuffed themselves in that good old Midwestern way. Sheila laughingly switching partners with Rebecca Stamos, since people often confused the two supermodels. Gretchen and Gwendy Stephenson engaging in a deep discussion which I suspected was political and steered clear of.

My favorite moment came when I was standing next to a table of hors d'oeuvres. I'd just been listening to Frank and Lillith comment on the unusual assortment of friends Sheila and Josh had made over the years while I watched Mr. T pluck something from a silver platter.

“I pity the fool,” Faizah said, sweeping down on him, “who takes Faizah's last mushroom cap.”

He handed it over and she popped it in her mouth with an ecstatic expression. I was still laughing when Lydia Stephenson appeared before me.

“I was told you were going to dance with me,” Daniel's youngest sister said.

“I'd love to.” We moved onto the dance floor while the orchestra played “Sentimental Journey.”

“This is the best wedding I've ever been to,” Lydia said. “Is it always like this with the rich and—oh, my god, I love Garbage.”

“Good. You can help clean up later,” I said.

“No, silly. That's Shirley Manson over there! She sings with the band Garbage.”

“Oh,” I said, chastened.

As we drifted close to an opening in the tent, I heard her say, “Now!”

An arm reached in and pulled me outside. Daniel embraced me and continued the dance Lydia had started.

“So sneaky,” I said with admiration.

“It's private, and the song is perfect. You are my sentimental journey home. I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you, too, Daniel.”

We stayed together through two more slow songs, then he sighed and said, “I guess we have to go our separate ways again.”

“Only for a little while,” I reminded him, but neither of us let go for a long time. Finally we kissed, and I stepped inside the tent. I saw Sheila and Lydia standing together, so I walked to them.

“Josh and I are about to change,” Sheila said. “May I have one last dance with our best man?”

We were quiet while we danced, until I finally said, “I can't believe you're the little girl I used to torment.”

“Don't make me cry again,” she begged. “Thank you so much for everything you did to help Josh and me pull this together. I'm so happy, Blaine.”

“Good. Now give me back my twenty.” She threw her head back with a laugh and discreetly dug it out. After I put it in my pocket, I led her to Josh and asked if they needed any help. They assured me they'd gotten quite adept at getting each other in and out of clothes, and I watched as they left the tent without drawing undue attention to themselves.

“So help me, if you start crying, you're going to see my hormones go into overdrive,” Gretchen warned from beside me. “I'd kill for a drink.”

“Feeling emotional, are you?” I asked.

“It's this dress. I think it's haunted.”

“After Sheila and Josh leave, the vans will continue to shuttle people out of here. Our little group will hang around, of course. If you need me to send someone to the hotel for a change of clothes—”

“No, I have what I came in. I'll change after the happy couple is gone.”

It was a small group that settled around a few tables later while the cleaning crew came in and went to work under the unnecessary but determined supervision of Aggie Wilson and Joyce Stephenson. Even after Adam reminded us that we'd probably be more comfortable in his house, nobody moved. Like me, most of the guys had shucked their coats and ties. Adam and Jake flanked me at our table; Louis Stephenson and Hank Wilson were a few chairs down. I'd lost track of Daniel and Jeremy.

Martin stayed as far away from me as possible, which I appreciated. He sat next to Lillith at a table with Josh's and Sheila's parents. I shuddered to think what he might be saying, since now and then a burst of laughter came from their group. Once Gwendy sat down with them, I stopped worrying. She was a practical woman who would know how to stifle Martin should the need arise.

Aunt Jen went to the bride's trailer with Blythe, Patti, and Gretchen so they could change into jeans and she could “make use of the facilities,” as she put it, having shunned the portable toilets. No one had seen Faizah for a while.

Frank retrieved Rowdy from Adam's house and sat across from me, sharing fishing stories with Louis and Hank. Lydia sank to the ground to pet Rowdy. Watching everyone's parents reminded me that I hadn't seen mine at the reception. They'd probably left right after the wedding. No doubt my mother had experienced one of her fainting spells.

When the women returned, they had Faizah and Mr. T in tow. He seemed to be getting a big kick out of Aunt Jen, who was wildly waving her trademark cigarette holder as she told him a story. Gretchen sat down next to Frank, but everyone else stood next to our table as Daniel and Jeremy wheeled up a cart with champagne. Jeremy poured, and Daniel distributed glasses among us. He handed me one with a stern look, which I ignored. I wasn't going to drink more than the obligatory sip if toasts were made. Which seemed likely, since everyone got quiet as if waiting for someone to say something.

When Daniel set a glass in front of Gretchen, Aunt Jen said, “Don't you have anything nonalcoholic, Daniel? She shouldn't be drinking.”

Daniel looked at his aunt and said, “Why not? Gretchen loves champagne.”

“When is your baby due, dear?” Aunt Jen asked Gretchen.

Even the cleanup crew seemed to be locked in silence as Gretchen looked at Jen and said calmly, “December fourteenth.”

At our table, no one moved except Adam and Jeremy, who swung shocked faces my way. Their movement caught Daniel's bewildered eye, and he turned to look at me, too.

“Uh-oh,” Mr. T said. Our group suddenly got smaller as several people followed in his wake when he made a quick exit.

“You actually took my advice?” I heard Lillith ask. Apparently she was able to count backwards from December faster than anyone else. “I told you March favored your houses of conception.”

Blythe slid to the ground next to Lydia. Both of them seemed to be trying to make themselves invisible. Gwendy said, “Gretchen, my car is parked on the road. If you need a ride, I can drive you back to the Hampton Inn.”

“Nobody move,” Daniel said, his gaze still locked with mine. “Blaine?”

“Yes,” I said, making it a statement, not a question.

He stared at me a few seconds more, then looked at Gretchen, who resolutely met his eyes. He shook his head, turned around, and walked out of the tent.

Martin moved as if to follow him, but Jeremy quickly caught his arm and said, “Not this time,” then looked at me and said, “Go. Now.”

I found Daniel in our bedroom. He was furiously throwing things in his suitcase and ignored me when I walked in.

“Stop,” I said. “Don't do this.”

“I can't talk to you right now,” Daniel said, retrieving his shaving kit from the bathroom. “I realize that you have the upper hand. You have information. I don't. You have transportation. I don't. Since you apparently don't fucking know me at all, take my advice. Leave me alone. I'll talk to you when I'm ready.”

“Daniel—”

“No, Blaine!”

Louis and Joyce Stephenson came through the open door of our bedroom. Louis made a hand gesture that seemed to be a sympathetic warning, then he picked up Daniel's suitcase.

“Come on, honey, our car is here,” Joyce said. Daniel strode out of the bedroom without another word or look for me, and Louis followed him. Joyce paused a moment to softly say, “Don't force it, Blaine. Give him some time.”

When I was alone, I sat on the bed and absently twisted the tangled sheets with one hand. It seemed ridiculous that just a few hours before, Daniel and I had made love in this bed, and now he'd left without giving me a chance to say anything.

“Not pretty, huh?” Gretchen asked from the doorway.

“Not anything,” I said. “Being Daniel, he wouldn't discuss it.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Only because we came so close to making up,” I said. I shrugged. “At least we had a few good hours.”

“I don't know how Daniel's aunt figured it out,” Gretchen said. “Maybe when I was changing clothes in the trailer, she could tell. I didn't want Daniel to find out this way. I had it all planned. I was going to talk to you both together and explain everything.”

“Explain what?”

“How I meant for the baby to make things better. You and I would have the child we want, but Daniel wouldn't feel like it was a burden to the two of you or your life together.”

“Come here, please.” She sat next to me on the bed. “I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that Daniel couldn't get a piece of news without overreacting and making it all about him. I'm sorry that we weren't able to share good news in our own way. But I'm not sorry that everyone knows. I'm definitely not sorry about the baby. This has been the most surreal week. I feel like I finally had the guts to be me. I dealt with Sydney. I didn't try to smooth things over with my parents today. I let myself be just as annoyed and obnoxious with Martin as I wanted to be. I celebrated a great moment in the lives of two people I love. And I apologized to Daniel about the past and let him know how much I love him.”

“And you met Mr. T.”

“Yeah, I was getting to that,” I said and put my arm around her. “The most real moment I had was looking at you today and feeling in my heart that we've done this incredible thing. I know any two idiots can make a baby. But in our case, there are millions of idiots who think we shouldn't. And I don't care. Protecting C.L. from that kind of crap is my top priority now.”

“Calling her by her initials won't make her a boy,” Gretchen said, and her arm slid around my waist. “Thank you for telling me that. Dammit. I'm getting hormonal again.”

“Do you want me to drive you back to the hotel?”

“No. I have a ride. If it's any comfort, Martin left with Adam's parents. I think most everyone else is gone, too. Are you sure you're okay? I can stay.”

“No. I'm fine. How are your ankles, by the way?”

“Large.”

I walked her downstairs and smiled at Gwendy, who wrinkled her nose at me, which I figured was her way of saying,
You fucked up, but I still think you're okay.

It seemed like the house was empty, so I decided to go back to the tent and see if Adam needed any help. But when I walked around back, I found Frank standing alone on the lawn, staring into the darkness toward the trees between Adam's house and the stream that ran through his property.