The Opposite of Me (17 page)

She didn’t know Bradley nearly as well as I did, I thought, my eyes swimming with angry tears. She didn’t know that, in the fifth grade, he ate Wheaties for a solid year for breakfast because he desperately wanted to win the hundred-yard dash at our school’s field day, and that he’d come in a crushing fourth place. She didn’t know that Bradley had memorized the words to dozens of Beatles songs. She didn’t know that he’d given the eulogy at his mother’s funeral after she’d died of breast cancer when he was only seventeen, and that I was the one who listened to him the night before the service while he practiced. His voice had broken when he’d spoken about how she’d spent an hour reading to him every night at bedtime long after he learned to read for himself, but after he’d rehearsed three times, he was finally able to get through his speech without crying.

Alex didn’t know
anything
about him.

Why hadn’t Bradley sensed I was in the room yet?

“Okay,” Alex said. “Do you know what I really want to do?”

“Tell me,” Bradley said.

“I want to stick my head outside that window and breathe,” Alex said. “I’ve been running around all day, and it took the
hairdresser an hour to make my hair look like I just rolled out of bed, and my head is killing me because she kept yanking at my hair with her brush. I think a redhead must’ve stolen away her first husband and she was taking it out on me. And I’m going to have to talk to people all night and I’m horrible at remembering people’s names so I’ll probably offend half the guests.”

She grinned wickedly. “Which means they won’t give me nearly as expensive wedding gifts as they should.”

Bradley laughed.

“Do it, then,” he said.

His camera clicked as Alex slowly stood up. She left her shoes off. She leaned out the window, moving slowly, like she wanted to savor every second of the experience.

“It’s beautiful out, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

Bradley stood to one side, capturing her profile with a flurry of quick shots, then he moved behind her and snapped another set of pictures. It was an unusual angle; most photographers wouldn’t have captured the bride from the back. But Bradley’s photographs had always discovered beauty in the unexpected.

As Alex stood there—arms outstretched, barefoot, her hair cascading down her slim back—I could see what Bradley saw. That was what scared me.

I desperately wanted to do something—to knock against a table and send a vase crashing to the floor, or open the door and let it slam loudly—to break apart the moment. But I couldn’t; I had to watch it unfold. I had to see what was going on between Alex and Bradley.

After a minute, Alex turned around and smiled at Bradley. A real smile, one that stretched across her entire face. It would’ve been a perfect picture, but Bradley lowered his camera.

For a frozen moment, they stood there, looking at each other. Just looking.

I eased back toward the door, feeling blindly behind me for the knob. I had to leave. In a minute or two I’d come into the room again and pretend I’d never witnessed this intimacy between them. Acknowledging it would somehow make it worse—would make it real. Bradley probably treated all his subjects like this, I told myself, even as fresh tears filled my eyes and my vision blurred. It was why he was such a good photographer. His job was to connect with people and get them to let down their guard. Alex wasn’t special to him; she couldn’t be. He acted like this with everyone. And to her, Bradley was just another guy to charm. He meant nothing to her, absolutely nothing. She was getting married in six months, for God’s sake. She was marrying the grown-up version of a Ken doll. She should be ashamed of flirting with a sweet guy like Bradley.

But the worst part was, I knew Alex well enough to know she wasn’t just flirting. She wasn’t being nice to Bradley so he’d take a good picture of her.

She genuinely liked him.

As I opened the door and slipped into the hallway, I could hear Alex whispering, “Bradley? Thanks.”

Somehow, I got through the rest of the night. When Mom and Dad and Diana came upstairs a few minutes later, I pretended I’d been lingering in the hallway the whole time, studying the artwork on the walls. By the time the three of us entered the room, Bradley was busy adjusting one of his lights and Alex’s shoes were back on. I could almost pretend the intense, charged moment between them had never happened.

“Lindsey!” Bradley carefully set down his light and walked over to me. He held out his arms, and I stepped into his familiar embrace. Bradley always gave real hugs, not one-armed, stiff embraces like most guys. I inhaled his familiar smell—woodsy
and fresh, but in a way that hinted of soap, not expensive cologne—and relaxed just the tiniest bit.

I moved back and snuck another, longer look at Bradley out of the corners of my eyes. His hair was turning the slightest bit gray at the temples. It suited him, as did the new length. He’d replaced his old glasses, too, and this pair didn’t take up half his face. He was still thin, but you definitely wouldn’t call him skinny any longer. After all these years, Bradley had finally grown into his looks, I realized with a jolt. He was certifiably hot. I could see why Alex had flirted with him.

“What a great surprise!” I said, smiling. I reached out and gave Alex a hug, being careful not to mess up her hair and makeup, as Bradley greeted my parents. See? I don’t hold grudges. Kind, reasonable Lindsey, who looks like she can hold her own in a pie-eating contest—what guy wouldn’t choose her over her supermodel sister?

“Nice dress, Sis,” Alex whispered in my ear. “But what’s the point in having boobs like yours if you don’t show them off?”

“You do it enough for both of us,” I whispered back, smiling to show that I was joking, of course.

“So, Bradley, I had no idea you were coming tonight!” I gushed. Meryl Streep had nothing on me.

“Kind of a long story,” Bradley said, shooting a look at Alex.

Nonononono. Uh-uh. The two of them weren’t going to have any private stories around me.

“I’d love to hear it.” I laughed gaily. Oh, what fun we were all having reminiscing together!

“Oh, our old photographer flaked out—I’m pretty sure he ditched us to cover some Hilton sister wedding in Vegas—and I thought of Bradley,” Alex said.

See? Not such a long story, after all. A very brief story. Barely even a story at all. Hardly an anecdote. More like a caption.

“Diana, do you know if Gary’s downstairs?” Alex asked.

Diana murmured something into her lapel, like a Secret Service agent, then nodded.

“He just arrived,” she said. “He’s on his way up.”

“Why don’t we do a few photos of just you and Gary, then we’ll get the whole family together,” Bradley suggested, just as the door to the room opened and Gary strode in.

Gary wore a black suit that looked custom-tailored and a brilliant blue dress shirt that had to be pure silk. It made his eyes leap out from his strong-featured face. His overcoat was cashmere, and his watch was a Rolex. Forget woodsy bar soap—Gary reeked of pure, undiluted success.

“Hank, great to see you,” Gary said, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides—the kind of walk they taught in rich executive school—to shake my father’s hand. He leaned over to kiss Mom next.

“You look beautiful, as always,” he said. “Be careful or you’re going to steal away all the attention at the wedding.”

“Oh, go on,” Mom said, giggling like a schoolgirl and swatting him on the arm.

“I’m serious,” Gary said, mock sternly. “Hank, you should fill up your wife’s dance card early or you might not see her the whole night.”

Mom tittered and all but curtsied. I’ve never actually heard someone titter before, but she managed admirably.

“Lindsey, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Gary said, kissing my cheek softly. “I hope we get to spend a lot more time together now that you’re back in town.”

I had to choke back a titter myself. No politician has ever worked the room more smoothly; when Gary’s attention was on you, you felt like the only person in the room. Hell, in the universe.

“Gary, you remember Bradley,” Alex said. The two men shook hands. Gary was a full three or four inches taller than Bradley,
and probably had twenty pounds of muscle on him. I wondered if there was some way I could subtly point this out to Alex, just in case her observational skills weren’t as finely honed as usual.

“So, what’s the plan?” Gary asked, wrapping his big arm around Alex and giving her neck a quick nuzzle. I silently cheered him on.

“I’d like to get a few photos of just you and Alex, then some of the whole family,” Bradley said. He surveyed the room quickly. “How about you two stand over by that bouquet of flowers?”

Gary and Alex complied, and the rest of us stared at them while Bradley snapped away. They looked custom-made for each other. Even though she wore three-inch heels, the top of Alex’s head just barely came to rest underneath Gary’s jaw, and she seemed more delicate than ever in his arms. They looked like an ad for a support group for Beautiful People Anonymous (“Hi, I’m Alex, and the first time I realized I was beautiful—
sob—
I was only six.” Shocked murmurs from the support group: “Only
six
.”).

“I got some really good ones,” Bradley said after a few minutes, clicking through the shots on his digital camera. “Of course, it isn’t hard with subjects like you two. I was just thinking we’d go for some candid shots next before we do the family photo. Why don’t you two just act natural? Forget I’m here.”

Gary looked at Alex and broke into a grin, then he pulled something out of his breast pocket.

“For me?” Alex asked. “What is it?”

“Just a little engagement present,” Gary said.

“You already got me one,” she protested. No, not protested.
Protested
would mean she didn’t want the gift, and she was already snapping open the box and shrieking. Inside were dangling earrings that glittered with green stones. Emeralds,
I guessed, though I wasn’t close enough to see for sure. But somehow I sensed Gary wasn’t a cubic zirconia kind of guy.

Alex threw her arms around Gary, who swept her up like she weighed no more than a child and spun her around in a circle. Alex was laughing and tossing back her head, and Gary was staring at her in pure adoration. Bradley moved around them, trying out different angles as he snapped dozens of shots.

Mom and Dad and Diana and I stood back and watched. This was my sister in her element; this was the Alex I knew. The woman who’d curled up on the floor and admitted to being tired and stressed was a stranger. Now the vulnerability I’d glimpsed was long gone; Alex was the center of attention, as usual, and she was loving every moment of it.

Gary whispered something in her ear, then kissed her on the tender spot just below her ear, and she laughed again. I couldn’t imagine sharing such an intimate moment in front of a crowd, but Alex seemed to revel in it.

Then Bradley lowered his camera and looked over at me and smiled.

He looked at
me
! How many times had Bradley looked at me through the years? Hundreds? Thousands? Funny how it suddenly made my heart take a little leap. I smiled back and walked over to him, unconsciously reaching up a hand to check my hair.

“They look great together, don’t they?” he asked me, gesturing to Alex.

“They really do,” I said.

But enough about Alex. “Have you shot a lot of engagement portraits?” I asked Bradley.

“First one,” he said. “But I couldn’t turn down a friend.”

A friend. That’s all Alex was. And I’d been Bradley’s friend much longer, I reminded myself.

“I can’t wait to catch up. Want to grab a movie this week?”
I asked, feeling inexplicably nervous. “I’ll even sneak in some honey for the popcorn.”

“Love to,” Bradley said. “I really want to hear about what’s up with your job.”

I kept smiling. “Same old stuff, just a new location. But it’s good to be back home.”

“I’m glad you’re back, too,” Bradley said.

His clear blue eyes, a much gentler shade than Gary’s, remained fixed on mine. I’d almost forgotten how Bradley did that; he’d keep his eyes on you the whole time you were talking, soaking in what you were saying, instead of scanning the room or impatiently waiting to interject his own thoughts. And he had this lovely habit of pausing for a moment when someone was done speaking, as though making sure they were truly finished, before he responded.

“Maybe we could hit the Thai place for a drink, too,” I said casually.

Suddenly I urgently wanted to go back there with Bradley; to smooth over any memories he’d created with Alex at the restaurant, like a wave erasing footprints in the sand. I wanted to replace them with memories of me.

“Great,” Bradley said.

I realized I’d been holding my breath, and I let it out slowly. Bradley still cared for me. He might’ve been momentarily dazzled by Alex, but he was a smart guy. He’d be able to see through her. She’d forgotten all about Bradley once Gary and his emerald earrings were in the room.

Maybe I didn’t look anything like Alex in my plain navy dress, but when the glitz was gone and the magic had lifted, who would Bradley rather be with? Someone who flirted with him and forgot him, or someone who’d always cared about him?