Chapter Twenty-One
A depressing half hour later, Rick walked out of the bar with Melanie beside him. Knowing Jimothy had left with Mark, his match made in heaven, according to Alice, had hammered the final nail in the coffin of that shitty day. Rick settled into a dull, gray funk knowing he couldn’t be Jimothy’s match made in anywhere because as a boyfriend to a guy, he didn’t exist. Gay lover Rick Ronconi was a fucking ghost.
“Rick?”
Rick actually startled. For a second, he’d forgotten Mel was there. “Uh, sorry, I was somewhere else.”
“Yeah. Somewhere I’m not.” She didn’t say it angrily.
“Just a lot on my mind with the wedding and my father and everything.”
“I heard he showed up at the rehearsal dinner and acted like somebody else, otherwise known as a good father.” She barked a cynical laugh. She’d heard a lot of crap about his father from both him and Alice.
“Yeah.” He released a long breath. “I think he finally figured out that Alice and I wanted him at the wedding.” He shrugged. “And maybe in our lives too. Alice and I are so used to doing everything for ourselves, we didn’t leave much room for him.”
“Whoa. I don’t know who’s more different, your father or you.”
Rick shrugged, chewed his lip, and said, “So, do you need a ride home?”
She sighed audibly. “No, I’ve got my car.”
He just stared into space. “Good.”
There was a short, awkward pause, and then Mel said, “Rick, who is she?”
“What?” He blinked like he was clearing smoke from his eyes.
“I’ve known for a while—before New Years, even—that you weren’t really into this. You and me, I mean. But since then, things changed. It feels like you’re somewhere else, with someone else.”
“I, uh—”
She held up her hand. “No judgment, Rick. In fact, if there is someone, I’m glad. For the short time I’ve known you, you’ve been this driven, take-care-of-Alice machine with nothing else propelling your life. You don’t like to have fun; you’re not into sports. Hell, you’re not even motivated by sex. You just work and take care of Alice. When you say you didn’t leave any room for your father, I get it. You don’t really have room for anyone.” She gazed at him through appraising eyes. “Until lately. Now you seem conflicted and sad.” Rick took another breath, but she held up that hand again. “Honestly, sad is a big step from where you were.” She gave a tight smile.
“Where was I?”
“Unconscious.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good person, Rick. That’s why I put up with you, honestly. And you sure are cute with that haircut. I hope you never go back to hiding.” She dug in her purse for her car keys and pulled them out. “Your sadness probably means you want something you can’t have, and I’m sorry about that. But honestly, it’s better than never wanting anything at all.” She waved and walked away. “See you tomorrow.”
Fuck, never wanting anything sure didn’t hurt like this.
Carrying a tote the size of Delaware, Jimothy strode down the long hall to the double doors that marked the bridal suite, or one of them. The Four Seasons had several. Bright light shone through the window at the end of the hall, showing off the crisp creases in his suit pants.
He tapped on the door.
Nothing happened for a few beats, and then the door parted and a face, minus makeup, and, in fact, minus most hints of color, stared out at him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned. “Did we have a few too many drinky-poos?”
“Oh yeah.” She swung the door open and walked away from it, her navy-blue silk bathrobe wrapped tightly around her.
“Where’s everyone else?”
She flopped on one of the love seats in front of the bay window and let her head fall back. “I told my mother-in-law to please keep them all occupied because I’m not up to dealing with them yet.”
Jimothy walked to the phone and dialed room service. When the person answered, Jimothy said, “We have an emergency food situation in the bridal suite, okay, darling? We need lots of black tea with honey and some cream, scrambled eggs and some scones and whole-grain toast with tons of jam and butter. And can we also have two liters of water? You’re a sweetheart. Thank you.”
Alice gripped her stomach. “Ugh.”
Jimothy laughed, took off his suit coat, and hung it on the back of a chair, and then opened his tote, and pulled out aspirin, zinc, powdered vitamin C, and some herbs. He extracted a bottle of water from the minibar and poured a large glass, then portioned out the pills and carried them to Alice. “Take these and drink all the water.” As she swallowed her pills, he went to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and poured in the lavender-and-citrus foaming bath salts he’d brought. When he left the bathroom, she already looked a little perkier. Hydration was everything for a hangover. “Hop in the bathtub and soak for a few minutes, then end with a warm shower and wash your hair. I put some shampoo and conditioner in the shower for you to use. Drink water the whole time you’re in the tub. Breakfast should be here when you get out.”
She smiled as she rose from the love seat. “I knew I was getting a hair stylist. I didn’t know about the hangover specialist.” She padded toward the bathroom.
“Special occasions like weddings tend to encourage a bit of overindulgence. I’m often the one there in the aftermath.”
Her laugh sounded almost normal. “Come talk to me in the bathtub.”
He planted a hand on his hip. “Darling, despite my purely academic interest in your charms, I will, in observance of social convention, sit outside the room.”
She giggled. “Actually, that’s what I had in mind, but thank you for thinking of it.” She grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the bathroom door, then disappeared inside, leaving the door well ajar. There was a splash and a sigh. “Oh, man, thank you for thinking of this.”
“Every bride deserves a bubble bath, dear.” He sat on the chair and started flipping through his phone for emails.
“Jimothy, speaking of your, uh, academic interests, did you like Mark?”
He’d expected the question, of course, so he said, “He’s a great guy. I’m flattered that you and Hank thought to introduce us.”
After a brief pause, she said, “Was that a nice way of saying thanks but butt out?”
He snorted. Alice was one seriously sharp critter, but he hadn’t anticipated she’d catch on that quick. What the hell did he say? “No. It’s just that I, uh, kind of have an affection for someone else.” Whoa, he hadn’t said that out loud before.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry. Hank and I assumed since you were on that blind date with that terrible man—oh, excuse me.”
Jimothy laughed. “You’re right. He was terrible. And the affection has, uh, grown since then, so I’m not precisely in the market.”
There was a splash. She was probably clapping her hands. “I’ve got a great idea. Call your guy and invite him to the reception tonight.”