Page 62 of It Happened Duo
“After our wedding day, what’s mine will be yours. Say the word and we can come back anytime.”
Yours…I never thought of it that way. I was marrying a billionaire. He was giving me the world, and all I had to give back was my heart. “Thank you for bringing us on this trip.”
“You’re welcome.” He adjusted himself as I left his arms and took up my plate of croissants at my chaise again, just in time to see Maisy reaching the top stair step and pausing to take in the view.
Brooks came up behind her, almost ramming his head right into her bottom as though he didn’t realize she’d stopped.
Maisy huffed over and occupied the chaise next to me while Brooks sauntered to the one next to Rex, with his head hanging low and his hands in his pockets. Never had I seen two people so miserable on the last day of a vacation in my life.
“Everything okay?” I turned and whispered to Maisy, offering her my plate, but I didn’t have to. One of thestaff arrived on the scene with a plate and mimosas for each of them.
“I don’t want to talk here about it,” she mumbled, ignoring the food and reaching for the glass. She downed it in two gulps.
Rex was oblivious, as men often were, and yammered on and on about the yacht and our trip home later today, while Brooks remained quiet with crossed arms, not eating or drinking at all.
Definitely trouble in paradise for them, I sensed. But then, I had warned Maisy, hadn’t I? With her graduating from Columbia in May, and leaving immediately for one year to work as a researcher with a science team on the Scientific Fleet of Oceanic Enterprises—a plum assignment cruising in the Southern Hemisphere as the research assistant to one of her professors—she didn’t have time for a relationship.
Long distance worked for some couples, but that would be a little much.
Or was Maisy upset about something else? She and Brooks couldn’t thaw the coldness between them, even amidst this sunshine and salty sea air. I almost hated showing off my happiness with Rex when she appeared so miserable.
34
THE GOOD GIRL
CHELSEA
Back in New York City,I immersed myself in my day job at the TV station, preparing for my next live segment featuring edible flowers and how to incorporate them into your everyday cooking.
By night I had wedding homework from Miriam—sifting through website links she sent me for this or that, and taking her veiled digs at my dragging feet when it came to making some decisions about the reception dinner menu.
Friday afternoon rolled around too soon, and my producer called me into her office. I was slowly getting comfortable with India Canton since she was hired, but she was no Stanley. When he retired in January, I sobbed my eyes out.
After hiring me last fall to be the Morning City Show’s resident foodie and cook, Stanley had taken me under his wing and taught me everything he could about working inthe world of television as if preparing me for life without him. I missed him every day.
“Have a seat,” India said, gesturing to a lemony yellow leather chair. All traces of Stanley were gone, including his awesome collection of black and white photos of celebrities from years gone by. She’d infused the office with a look that one could only describe as a citrus flare in shades of yellow and orange everywhere. But given most days around the morning show began at three in the morning, it probably helped wake her up the moment she stepped foot here.
“How goes the wedding plans?” She opened with that, but I sensed there was more. India always seemed to have something mulling around her brain, but that probably made her a decent producer.
“Fine. We’re having a Christmas wedding,” I gushed. As much as the event planning stressed me out, my love for Rex still put the biggest grin across my face. And the fact the wedding was during my favorite time of year helped, too.
“I’d heard. Toward that end, I want you to do a new weekly segment about it.”
My smile dropped. “What do you mean?”
“In addition to your cooking segments, I want you to bring the viewers along with you as you plan and prepare for your big day.” She handed me a file, looking at me expectantly through her thick glasses. I flipped through it and the first item inside was a calendar and suggested topics to cover for each appearance. I had no words.
“In fact, how would you feel about having the viewers help you select some of your wedding day plans? We couldset up a weekly online poll. Oh, the viewers would go crazy about something like this. I could see plenty of accolades and awards coming our way at next year’s City Television Awards.”
India stared off into the distance as if envisioning herself on stage giving her acceptance speech. After Stanley left, the single, petite producer took charge and got our programming in shape with sweeping changes, earning herself a reputation as a spitfire around here, and some respect, but under the surface I always knew there was something else about her I couldn’t put my finger on.
I snapped out of it, trying to be as tactful as I could. “Um. India. While this is intriguing, honestly, the wedding planning has been…how should I put it? Overwhelming. My fiancé’s family is rather well to do and?—”
“Yes, the Buchanans, correct? I’ve looked into them. They’re one of the city’s oldest, most influential families in certain circles. It will fascinate New Yorkers with seeing how the rich put on an elaborate affair.” The gleam in her eyes hadn’t faded yet, still seeing stars, or rather her name in lights, as if I suddenly was her ticket to higher heights.
“It’s just been a lot, and I don’t know if I could handle one more thing on my plate right now.” I appeared three times per week live on the show as it was, plus six standalone pre-recorded seasonal specials dotted the production calendar for the year.
Not to mention I still had Uncle Doug’s deli in the Buchanan building to oversee, although I’d hired a wonderful manager in my place. Then there was thecookbook publication I worked on in my spare time, with a looming first draft deadline coming up at the end of summer.
