In the Stars (12 page)

He who asks is a fool for five minutes,
but he who does not ask remains a fool forever.
        —Chinese Proverb

Chapter Nineteen

B
ut he told me he loved me!”

I am having the same argument with Josh that I’ve been having for the last hour since I staggered through the door in tears. Josh had instantly leapt to my aid. He threw a blanket around my shoulders, took my jacket off, led me to bed, called room service to order a box of Lindt chocolate and a burger and fries. Then he plopped down beside me and let me cuddle up next to him.

Over the next few minutes the entire story tumbled out; how Drew and I agreed to have a no consequence date to see where we stood, meeting up with the girls, finding out that Drew wasn’t planning on stopping the wedding ever, and that horrible feeling like I’ve been used.

Josh was furious. His voice got louder than I’ve ever heard it except when we go cheer at hockey games, and he kept repeating himself over and over again. What a dillweed. I can’t believe he led you on like that. You deserve better. Scumbag.

I can’t let it go, however. What hurts the most is knowing that he loves me, but apparently that’s not enough, at least not enough for him.

“He said he loved me!” I wail again and stuff three fries into my mouth. “Why would he say that if he is going to marry someone else?”

Josh’s arm around my shoulder is a comforting weight, but his words are not. “Look, Charley, it’s all over. You gave it your best shot, you came out here, but this is it. What’s done is done. Let’s pack up, head home and get on with our lives.”

“I can’t do that,” I sniffle. I eat another fry and then tear into the Lindt chocolate truffles, unwrapping one quickly and shoving it in my mouth too. The taste of salt and fried potato mixes with the chocolate. I enjoy it, sort of like dipping fries in a chocolate milkshake, but Josh cringes and looks away.

“Chew then speak.”

I ignore him and keep blabbering on. “Look, he loves me, he admitted it. He’s only marrying her because he feels trapped, like he has to go through with the wedding all because the Prime Minister is going to be there. I need to stop it! I have to!”

Josh sighs, a long, drawn out exhale of annoyance. “Charley, I don’t understand you. How can you be this successful, bright woman, and yet so stuck on some jerk of a guy that dumped you years earlier? It’s like you have these deep rooted insecurities and I have no idea why.”

“I’m not insecure. I am simply down on my luck. Fate brought me here and there has to be a reason for it. The stars wouldn’t have led me to Victoria if I wasn’t going to find true love out here. I can’t give up when I am so close to the finish line.”

“You are obsessed. It’s not healthy.”

“No, Drew loves me. He kissed me. Clearly he and his fiancée are not right for each other, even though he chose to go ahead with the wedding. Look, I know you’re going to think I’m insane, but I’m not. My head is one million percent clear. I know what I’m doing. Tomorrow, I’m going to the wedding. I have an invitation after all. I’ll go, sit down and then when the minister says ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace,' I will stand up and tell Drew all the reasons he shouldn’t marry her. He’ll understand and we’ll run off together.”

“Okay, there are so many things wrong with your plan,” Josh begins. He shifts around so he is cross legged on the bed and directly in front of me. “You are living in a dream world, something created from illogical fantasies based on fiction. The only place where the guy runs off at the altar with another woman is in chick flicks.”

“Not true,” I counter stubbornly.

“Yes true,” Josh interrupts and begins counting on his fingers. “
While You Were Sleeping,
which is your favorite movie in the world, has Sandra Bullock object and then that brown haired guy objects and everyone objects. She lives happily ever after.
Bride Wars,
when Anne Hathaway confesses to her fiancé that they aren’t meant to be after Kate Hudson tackles her in the aisle. She ends up with Kate Hudson’s brother.
Made of Honor,
when Patrick Dempsey flies through the chapel doors on a horse right when the priest asks if there are objections and it’s incredibly romantic.” Josh pauses for a breath. “Life isn’t Hollywood. Nobody in real life ever objects at a wedding. By the time the bride has made her way down the aisle, it’s too late.”

“It isn’t too late,” I insist. “He has pre-wedding jitters. He is ashamed about looking foolish calling the wedding off. This way it’s not on him, it’s on me. I’m the one who’ll like a total ass by putting myself out there. All he has to do is say yes.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you not go through with this?”

I shake my head. “I have to. I can’t live my life wondering ‘what if.’ This way I can rest easy, knowing I gave it my all.”

Josh gives me a funny look. “What did you say?”

“I said, I have to be willing to take a chance, even if the chance makes me fall on my face. I’ve hit rock bottom before, what’s once more?”

“You are a braver person than me,” Josh acknowledges. He pats my leg under the covers and then gets off the bed. “I’m going to go swimming. I hear this hotel has an amazing pool. Come on, it’ll take your mind off everything, give you time to think.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Promise you won’t try to persuade me to give up on my plan?”

“Scout’s honor.”

We get changed into our swimsuits, me in the bedroom, and Josh in the bathroom. Then we grab a couple clean towels and leave our room. As we walk down the hallway to the elevator, I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror at the end of the hall. Josh’s body is amazing. He’s like Zac Efron who is photographed almost daily running shirtless on the beach and doing chin-ups on playgrounds.

“You really look good,” I tell him. I ignore the immediate heat that courses through me and play it cool. “You never told me you had a six pack.”

Josh ducks his head with embarrassment. “It never really came up in conversation. Besides, we’ve gone swimming before. You clearly lack good observation skills.”

I think back to the handful of times we’d gone to the Talisman Center and Village Square Leisure. He’s right, I never really noticed. Why the heck am I noticing it now? And especially why is it making me all hot and bothered? Must be leftover emotions from the motel and Drew. That’s got to be it.

“Well, you look great,” I finally say.

We get down to the lobby and then I freeze. “Josh, look!” I point to the side, in the opposite direction of the pool. “A spa.” I breathe the sacred word and clutch his arm in glee. “This is exactly what I need to rejuvenate myself before tomorrow. Come with me!”

“You mean pay for you,” he replies drily.

“Not pay for me.” It stings that he thinks I am after his money. “Loan me some money and I swear I’ll pay you back. Or I can just put it on my Visa. So there.”

Josh surveys the sign to the spa. “The Sora Spa offers beauty treatments, Thai massages and more, using holistic-botanical and marine elements to deliver exceptional results and supreme spa experiences.” He appraises me with a grin. “Sure, you of all people deserve a supreme spa experience. Let’s do it! And you’re not allowed to pay me back. This is my treat. Maybe the relaxation will knock some sense into that pretty head of yours.”

I grab his arm. “Thank you! You’re going to love it!”

And we do.

I normally don’t believe advertising, but in this case, it is spot on. A manicure, facial and tropical escape wrap lift my spirits and calm my soul. I can do this. Tomorrow is my time to shine.

The beautiful Asian woman who brings me my jasmine scented towel at the end bows low and declares, “You are radiant. No stress in your life, not today, not ever. Bless.” She inclines her head to me and I bow right back to her.

“Thank you.” I find out at the front desk that Josh’s massage had finished an hour earlier and he headed back to the room. I thank the woman again and float back to the room. The spa worked wonders. I’m rejuvenated and refreshed and ready to do what I was led here by fate to do. A good night’s sleep is all I need now and then I can seize the day and win back my love.

The good night’s rest never comes, however. Between Josh lightly snoring across from me and the occasional sound that drifts to my ears through the hotel, I am wired. I toss and turn, check the time on my cell phone every few minutes and then shut my eyes tight in a vain effort to fall asleep.

Am I sure about standing up during the wedding ceremony? I ask myself one more time. If I don’t do it, I’ll never know for sure. And besides, Drew has to know that going through with the wedding is a mistake. He said he loved me. This is absolutely the right thing. I am positive.

I finally drift off around four in the morning and a mere three hours later my alarm buzzes me awake. Wedding day.

May you find the strength of an eagle’s wings,
and the courage and faith to soar to great heights.
And may you be granted the Universal wisdom to carry you there.
        —Ancient Navajo Blessing

Chapter Twenty

I
dress carefully. My mini-dress that I wore out for drinks with Drew is fine as I pair it with my grey blazer and a thin strand of pearls. Instantly it goes from the type of dress a mistress would wear (at least how I picture a mistress would dress) to being a good girl-next-door type. I wash my hair, blow dry it and curl the ends under, Katy Perry style. When Josh wakes up, he showers and then throws on khakis and a dress shirt. We’d discussed it last night and reluctantly he agreed to accompany me. Moral support and friendship trumps all.

The front desk calls a cab for us and ten minutes before the ceremony is set to begin, we arrive at the steps of Christ Church Cathedral, the gorgeous Anglican edifice that reminds me of Notre Dame. It is a stone’s throw from the courthouse on Quadra Street at Rockland and is one of the largest church buildings in Canada. There is a vast, old cemetery across from it, full of people who have already lived and died, their hopes and dreams snuffed out with their lives. With an elegant bell tower, historic architecture and beautiful stained glass and vaulted ceilings, I feel insignificant. They could not have chosen a more intimidating place.

Josh pays the cabbie and we climb out. He takes my arm and helps me up the steps and into the nave. Pews line the room, pillars supporting and raising one’s view heavenward. The domed roof is intricate with details so lovely it is difficult to take them all in at once. Music plays softly from an organ at the front. An usher smiles, checks our invitation and directs us to the groom’s side of the room after inquiring who we are here to support.

“This is incredible,” Josh whispers. “Look at the architectural detail in here. I wonder when this was built.” I am too nervous to pay attention as he talks about the gothic influences evidenced in the pillars and ceiling.

There are people everywhere. I doubt I
know
this many people, let alone know them well enough to invite them to my wedding. Women kiss each other on the cheek, men shake hands. Children fidget on the hard pews.

Suddenly the organ begins to play a song that sounds to me like a death march and the bridal party begins to file in. My hands are shaking. Josh reaches over and takes my cold, clammy one in his own and holds it tight. First the groom enters. Drew is more handsome than I have ever seen him. At my quick intake of breath Josh leans to me and asks, “Is that him?”

Strange that Josh and Drew have never met in person. I hiss “Yes,” and stare at him. I am willing for him to turn and see me and come running to me without me even saying a word, but to my chagrin, he does not. He makes his way to the front where he shakes hands with the Bishop of the Diocese of British Columbia (wow, they really did pull out all the stops for this wedding, didn’t they?) and then turns and surveys the room with a smile. The room beams back at him.

More people make their way down the aisle. I don’t recognize any of the groomsmen, but I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Drew didn’t stay in touch with any of our old crowd. College friendships rarely stand the test of time when all you do together is party and drink for a few wild years. I do spot the girls from yesterday, and sink in my seat. Jenna comes first, her cornrows done up in some elaborate piece of work that must have taken a stylist hours to complete. Belle bobs behind her, feet slightly off beat from the music. A third girl follows, one I have never seen before, and finally there is the sister, Monica. All the bridesmaids look lovely, wearing knee length, sleeveless dresses, royal blue. They have cream shawls draped over their shoulders and carry bouquets of baby’s breath and white roses.

Belle sees me and mouths the word “Hi!” Monica also smiles when she passes. They still think I’m a cousin. I can’t smile back at them. They are going to despise me in about twenty minutes.

Once the procession has made its way to the front, everyone stands. The energy in the room lifts me to my feet as well. The traditional wedding march begins. Here comes the bride.

For the past week and a half I have hated this girl, whose face I only knew from that one, small photograph. I hated her straight, white teeth, and her fair skin. I hated her hair and her green eyes that would ensure that she and Drew have their own green-eyed babies. Yet now, when I finally see her in person, I feel a large amount of compassion.

She has no idea that her fiancé loves another woman. She has no clue that the girl she just passed while making her way down the aisle is about to run off with him. My hatred for her evaporates. She seems nice, simple, like someone I would befriend under different circumstances.

The organ stops and the ceremony begins. I draw a shaky breath and listen carefully for my cue.

Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly
from your friend’s forehead.
        —Chinese Proverb