Page 80 of You Had Me at Merlot

“Helen asked me, and a few days ago I said yes.”

“Perfect. Was it over dinner? A ring in a champagne flute?” She put her hands on the back of her hips because she suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.

“We’re pretty informal. No.” A long pause. That was weird.

“Do you not want to tell me?”

“We were actually in my room.”

A horrible sinking feeling hit. “In bed. She proposed in bed. I see.” It wasn’t until this very moment that Jamie realized she’d never once thought of them having any kind of sexual relationship, which made sense when you applied the whole self-preservation method.

Leighton laughed. “Yeah, I probably should come up with a more public-friendly story. Not one I plan to pass around at the office.”

“Right?” Jamie joined her in laughter, but everything about it, the sound, the echo, the force, came off hollow. She flashed on what it felt like to be held in those arms, to lie on top of Leighton, feel her body beneath, and look down into those soulful brown eyes. “So, are you thinking later this year? Next?” She’d have to sit through a ceremony, watch a first dance, and then witness the life they’d lead together, Leighton and Helen, happily ever after. All her own fault. All of it. It was a pill she’d have to learn to swallow.

“Neither of us want to wait. So it’ll be soon. Helen is working on choosing a date withOut Magazine.They’re interested in covering the event, so we’re apparently working around their schedule.”

Jamie raised a brow. “But it’s your wedding. Lay.” Jamie quirked her head, setting her own feelings aside and thinking about Leighton’s. Defenses flared.

“I feel the same way, and couldn’t care less about a magazine, but it’s important to Helen, so…It’s what we do.”

“Right. Yeah. I get it.” She shifted her weight as silence covered everything. “A married woman,” she said quietly, wistfully. “Surreal.”

Leighton didn’t speak for a moment. “It is. I just wanted to make sure to tell you personally.”

Jamie nodded, gutted, imagining what this moment was supposed to be. Her important confession died with Leighton’s announcement, and now it would be hers and hers alone forever and always. “I’m glad you did.”

The universe felt weird. They did, and there would be no fix this time. Their easy back-and-forth had vanished. Leighton had half a glass of wine left and practically gulped it down. “I should probably get home, check in with Helen about the plans. She has a premiere to attend for…something. I can’t keep track.”

Jamie nodded. “Have a nice night, Leighton,” she said softly. “Enjoy this time.” She actually meant it. Her heart was broken, and she was battling a massive army of self-recrimination, but none of that took away from the fact that she wanted Leighton to have everything she ever wanted.

Leighton stood in the doorway, glass door ajar, and sent Jamie a great big smile. “Right? You know what? I really think I’m gonna. Love you. See you soon.”

Jamie held up a hand and waved good-bye to Leighton Morrow in more ways than one. She went through the motions for another hour at the bar, simply because she needed the distraction. Dishes. Took stock of supplies. Poured wine. Smiled. And repeat. She handed off closing to Ally, who’d done a lot to impress her already.

“Have a good night, Jamie. I got this.”

“That’s why I’m keeping you.”

She stood outside the bar, looking up at the Bordeauxnuts sign, lit up now, a beacon to those in the area, and remembered the path that led here. Leighton arriving at her register years ago. Their time together. The betrayal. The run-in at the night club. The committee meetings. The business deal. The friendship. All of it swirled in a jumble like a cyclone raging around her.

Her heart was heavy when she hopped the A train, placed her earbuds in her ears, and lost herself in a haze of music and memories.Tomorrow, she would find a way to pick herself back up and put one foot in front of the other, but for tonight, she let her emotions drown her, tears streaking her cheeks as strangers passed her curious stares across the train. Aching and not caring, she gripped her bag and kept her eyes down for the rest of the ride.

* * *

There were moments that stood out in Leighton’s memory, rising above all others in their importance. The wine tumbling, spilling all over the floor, the moment she told Jamie she was marrying Helen had now become one of them. She could remember every detail with acute precision. The temperature of the room and the way Jamie had been looking away from her just before the words left her lips. Maybe that’s why she’d said it just then, the tactic of a coward. In retrospect, the moment now felt like a metaphor, a period at the end of a sentence. Theirs. The empty glass. The mess. No putting the wine back in.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Helen asked from across the table. They’d decided to treat themselves to brunch before meeting with the wedding planner. Helen hadn’t done much but move her stuffed French toast around the plate. Why was she so off today?

“Oh.” She gestured to her head and smiled, rejoining the moment. “Just how much we have to do over the next four weeks.” They’d scheduled the wedding—along with all the interested parties—for just over a month away, which at first had seemed very doable in Leighton’s mind. She imagined a simple ceremony, elegant and beautiful. It was not to be. The event Helen was pulling together required so much more work. The guest list was huge, the concepts more grandiose. There were apparently decisions to be made hourly, from the tiny flowers in the bouquets that no one would even really see down to which fork style they wanted for dessert at the reception. In many ways, it felt like she and Helen were just secondary characters and the event itself had taken over the narrative. She swallowed the sentiment and smiled instead.

“Susan-Jane has it all under control, don’t you worry. Megan says she’s the best and we have nothing to worry about.” Helen’s cousin Megan was a highly esteemed event planner herself in Texas and was thrilled to recommend someone in New York who would do a stellarjob for them. Susan-Jane didn’t disappoint. She was organized, friendly, and terrifying in how aggressively she was putting this thing together. She was a wedding drill sergeant on a mission to plan.

Later that morning, she tapped a photo of Helen’s sister on the oversized screen on the wall that mirrored her laptop’s display. “Tamara. Stunning. Am I right?” A pause. “Are we sure we want her in peach? What about this shade?” Susan-Jane produced another photo of what looked to be the same color. Leighton blinked.

“Isn’t that peach?”

“Peach colored,” Susan-Jane said with a nod.

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