Love Unrehearsed
Page 12
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
How long had they all known his intentions? Weeks? Months?
Suddenly I felt like a huge ass all over again, quite embarrassed by my completely irrational behavior when my friends had to break my bedroom door down to get to me. I had been physically and emotionally broken, locking myself away from the world while thoughts of Ryan being unfaithful tore me to shreds. No wonder Marie slapped me across the face when I became somewhat hysterical.
I must have looked like a blithering idiot to all of them.
But I couldn’t stop the flood once it started. It drowned me.
I stared at the blank whiteness of the tablecloth.
How close I came to ruining this relationship—ending it, actually. Well, no more of that. Ryan has been nothing but faithful and trustworthy. He adores me and I want him more than I want my next breath.
“Taryn?”
Fingers touched my shoulder, startling me. Trish was standing behind me; her golden hair was pulled back by the sunglasses that rested on top of her head.
“Are you ladies ready?” Trish asked.
With a smile, I nodded and grabbed my purse. A large, chauffeured Suburban pulled up to the front doors and all of the ladies climbed in. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the “hall of many dresses.” Well anyway, that’s what Marie called it. She was right.
“Oh, what a day,” Trish sighed, eyeing a shimmery, burgundy-colored Prada gown. I had separated myself from everyone else to follow her through the rows.
“Bet you’re glad to be out here instead of in the office,” I commented, figuring she was enjoying shopping more than working.
“You have no idea.” Trish exhaled with relief. “Especially since she is on the warpath today.”
I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.
“I still don’t understand why she’s so angry about things,” I muttered.
“I do,” Trish said, fumbling for her Black-Berry, which had just beeped. “She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic.”
“I already know she despises me,” I grumbled quietly. “And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Ryan.”
“Don’t feel special. She hates everyone,” Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. “I’ve been with her for seven years and she still doesn’t like me.”
I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. “Well, I didn’t like the way she talked to him this morning. She yelled at him like he was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her.”
“I wish you would have,” Trish said under her breath.
“Hate her that much, too?” I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.
Trish snickered uncomfortably. “Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it’s hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That’s why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you’re not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I’ve learned to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.”
This morning’s badgering continued to plague me. “Trish, really, is it that bad that people know about our engagement?” She paused. “Welll. . . it is his personal business that’s out there now.” She moved a little closer. “Did he really stand on a table when he proposed?”
I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.
Trish’s grin widened. “Can I see the ring?” she asked excitedly, requesting my hand.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous! So that’s what half a million looks like. I’m so glad he went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides.” She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. “This was definitely, definitely worth the trouble! Flawless . . .”
I didn’t understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Ryan spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. “Um . . . ahh. What do you mean? What trouble?”
“Sneaking Ryan around to meet jewelry designers?” she said tentatively. “I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Taryn, but I was relieved when you couldn’t make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it.”
My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with him at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.
Suddenly I felt like a huge ass all over again, quite embarrassed by my completely irrational behavior when my friends had to break my bedroom door down to get to me. I had been physically and emotionally broken, locking myself away from the world while thoughts of Ryan being unfaithful tore me to shreds. No wonder Marie slapped me across the face when I became somewhat hysterical.
I must have looked like a blithering idiot to all of them.
But I couldn’t stop the flood once it started. It drowned me.
I stared at the blank whiteness of the tablecloth.
How close I came to ruining this relationship—ending it, actually. Well, no more of that. Ryan has been nothing but faithful and trustworthy. He adores me and I want him more than I want my next breath.
“Taryn?”
Fingers touched my shoulder, startling me. Trish was standing behind me; her golden hair was pulled back by the sunglasses that rested on top of her head.
“Are you ladies ready?” Trish asked.
With a smile, I nodded and grabbed my purse. A large, chauffeured Suburban pulled up to the front doors and all of the ladies climbed in. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the “hall of many dresses.” Well anyway, that’s what Marie called it. She was right.
“Oh, what a day,” Trish sighed, eyeing a shimmery, burgundy-colored Prada gown. I had separated myself from everyone else to follow her through the rows.
“Bet you’re glad to be out here instead of in the office,” I commented, figuring she was enjoying shopping more than working.
“You have no idea.” Trish exhaled with relief. “Especially since she is on the warpath today.”
I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.
“I still don’t understand why she’s so angry about things,” I muttered.
“I do,” Trish said, fumbling for her Black-Berry, which had just beeped. “She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic.”
“I already know she despises me,” I grumbled quietly. “And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Ryan.”
“Don’t feel special. She hates everyone,” Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. “I’ve been with her for seven years and she still doesn’t like me.”
I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. “Well, I didn’t like the way she talked to him this morning. She yelled at him like he was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her.”
“I wish you would have,” Trish said under her breath.
“Hate her that much, too?” I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.
Trish snickered uncomfortably. “Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it’s hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That’s why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you’re not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I’ve learned to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.”
This morning’s badgering continued to plague me. “Trish, really, is it that bad that people know about our engagement?” She paused. “Welll. . . it is his personal business that’s out there now.” She moved a little closer. “Did he really stand on a table when he proposed?”
I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.
Trish’s grin widened. “Can I see the ring?” she asked excitedly, requesting my hand.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous! So that’s what half a million looks like. I’m so glad he went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides.” She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. “This was definitely, definitely worth the trouble! Flawless . . .”
I didn’t understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Ryan spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. “Um . . . ahh. What do you mean? What trouble?”
“Sneaking Ryan around to meet jewelry designers?” she said tentatively. “I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Taryn, but I was relieved when you couldn’t make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it.”
My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with him at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.
