I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat. “I appreciate that.”
She placed her hand over my own and squeezed. “Of course. So, it looks like you made the final payment on your Georgica Goldstein gown just a couple of days ago?”
“I think I just owe a bit more for the final alterations.”
“Right, I see here that the dress needed to be taken in pretty significantly.” She arched her left eyebrow. “Benji’s Boot Camp?”
“He’s the best.”
Regan smiled and turned the stack of papers over. “In these situations, we offer our brides three options. Option One, you pay the remaining balance and take the dress home today. Option Two, we resell the dress as a sample at a reduced price point. You likely wouldn’t recoup the full amount you’ve spent, but you’ll get some portion back.”
“What’s Option Three?”
“Some of our brides aren’t ready to say goodbye to their dress but find it too difficult to have it in their home. Once you pay the remaining balance, we’ll store it here for you for no extra charge. You may come to realize that while you may not have found the perfect man, you did find the perfect gown.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“I understand you feel that way now, but I can rattle off the names of dozens of women who’ve sat right where you are and come out the other side.”
I reached for the box of tissues on the side table, pulled one out, and dabbed the corners of my eyes, which had become like faucets these last few weeks.
Regan reached into the envelope and pulled out a small pamphlet. “Here, this is for you. I can’t recommend this program enough. A former classmate of mine runs it out of Topsail Island in North Carolina.”
I scanned the top page. “Retreat House Breakup Boot Camp?”
“It’s a two-week retreat that includes sessions led by the top psychologists, behavioral scientists, coaches, energy healers, meditation teachers, and personal trainers. Heartbreak is a real thing. An all-consuming thing. It’s like having a broken rib. Nobody can see it, but it hurts every time you breathe.”
“Yes, it’s exactly like that,” I admitted.
She nodded and continued. “The resort’s a beautiful beachfront property with surfing and yoga. All the meals are cooked by an on-site chef, using organic and local ingredients. It’s really the perfect place to take a timeout and heal.”
“You sound like you speak from experience?”
“I was in an almost four-year relationship with the man I thought was going to be my husband. Looking back now, I can see how I ignored dozens of red flags, but I was in love. So in love, that when it ended, I could barely function. I fell apart. A friend of a friend had attended the Boot Camp and recommended it to me. Admittedly, I was a skeptic, but the weeks I spent there absolutely changed my life.”
I folded the pamphlet into my tote. “I’ll think about it.”
She nodded. “And the dress? Any decisions there?”
I stood up and walked over to where my wedding gown was hanging off a large hook and carefully unzipped the garment bag. Regan came up behind me.
“It’s a stunner,” she said.
Tears were brimming in my eyes. “Why don’t you keep the dress here. I haven’t even moved into my new place yet. I’m not sure if I’ll have the room to store it.”
“That’s not a problem,” Regan said, zipping the bag back up.
“Is that it, then, are we finished here?”
Regan nodded and passed me the envelope. “Joanna, I urge you to consider the Boot Camp. We employ people to help us fix things all the time, dish washers, car engines, bones. Why should a broken heart be any different?”
A broken heart, sure, but what about a shattered one?
Chapter Ten
Merritt’s friend Nick’s apartment was in the heart of the West Village. It was a small but very charming studio in a classic New York red brick townhouse. It had a wood-burning fireplace and small terrace that looked out onto a beautiful tree-lined and cobblestone Perry Street. As part of the subletting deal, Merritt agreed I’d watch Nick’s two Yorkies, Chaka and Kahn, while he was in Vancouver. Though I had never been much of a dog lover, I found myself feeling glad for their company and the excuse they gave me to get out of bed every morning.
I was looking forward to going to work for the very same reason, desperate for any distraction that might take my mind off Sam. Over the weekend, Colin called and filled me in on everything I missed at the agency in the week I was out. Fortunately, there wasn’t much. They’d held a second casting call for the role of Grizzabella in Cats and settled on three actresses for callbacks, which Stephen had postponed until I was back.
Walking back into the office felt eerily like when I returned to work after my mother died. Nobody knew quite what to say to me, but everyone felt they had to say something. Having worked for the Gerber Agency since college, it had seemed only right to invite the whole office to my wedding. They all knew Sam. He’d attended every Christmas party, every Gerber Agency show opening night, every company picnic. A few weeks ago, the other agents threw me a shower, and just last week, the support staff surprised me with a one thousand-dollar Amex gift card to put toward my honeymoon. I could only imagine their surprise when they received the carefully worded email from Merritt, saying the wedding of Joanna Kitt and Samuel Calver was postponed, indefinitely.
Over the course of the morning, dozens of people stopped by my desk to share their own personal anecdotes of heartbreak and betrayal. Although they all meant well, I was in no mood to commiserate and beyond grateful when Courtney sent me an email letting me know the callbacks for Cats would be at our usual audition space in Times Square at 3:00 PM.
I clicked into the email attachment with each of the actress’s headshots and resumes. All three were relative newcomers, with just a smattering of acting credits. Stephen was famous for his ability to match little-known actors with their first star-making role. He’d launched the careers of dozens of Broadway’s elites by simply casting them in an unexpected part or show. He was at it again, this time angling for an ingénue to take on the headlining role of Grizabella and the beloved ballad, “Memory” in the newly reimagined production of Cats.
A few hours later, I was only halfway through my inbox when Courtney stopped by to let me know she was heading to the auditions if I wanted to walk over with her.
“Stephen’s at a meeting with the Wicked producers, so he’ll meet us over there,” she said.
I nodded and grabbed my coat from behind the chair.
“I’m so happy to have you back,” Courtney said, holding the lobby door open for me. “Guess who was put in charge of getting Stephen’s breakfasts and lunches while you were out? I screwed up about half a dozen times.”
“He doesn’t look much worse for the wear.”
“No, but my nerves are completely shot. I’m almost relieved you aren’t going on your twelve-day honeymoon anymore.” Courtney froze in her spot and smacked her forehead. “Christ, that was insensitive of me. I just meant, Stephen relies on you so much, it’s nearly impossible to fill your shoes.”