He shakes his head and settles back into the chair. «So, were there any other complications in being an unmarried girl going to your ex-boyfriend's wedding? Anything else you haven't told me?»
«No,» I say, with a clipped tone, turning to my computer. I begin to check my e-mail, hoping that he'll think that I'm too busy to talk to him and just leave.
An e-mail pops up on my screen:
From: «Vanessa Taylor»
To: «Brooke Miller»
Subject: Do it!
Did you fess up to Trip yet???
Vanessa Taylor
Gilson, Hecht and Trattner
425 Park Avenue
11th Floor
New York, New York 10022
*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE***** The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht & Trattner by return email to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.
That girl's timing is uncanny. I look over to Trip, sitting in my visitor's chair like a sad little puppy, his pad out, ready to jot down any words of wisdom I may spew out.
«I just feel like I'm missing something here,» Trip says, tapping his pen against the side of the pad. «What the script really needs is something to bring it all together. It needs more comedy. More of a love story.»
«How's this,» I say, throwing him a bone. «I did lose my luggage at LAX when we flew in for your wedding. I didn't have a dress to wear, so we had to spend the whole day shopping for a replacement. Use that.»
«Right on, right on,» Trip says. Even though he's originally from Connecticut, he certainly has adapted to being a left-coaster. If he says «bitchin» I'm kicking him out of my office.
«Okay, so great,» I say, standing up. «If I think of anything else, I'll call you!»
Trip stays planted in his seat.
«I'm sorry,» he says. «I don't mean to be bugging you. It's just that there is so much pressure on me to make this thing great. It just needs a little oomph. Something to make it stand out from all of those other romantic comedies out there. This means a lot to me. And to Ava.»
And just like that, I begin to soften. I was so busy trying to one-up Trip that I forgot that there are things that I actually like about him. His determination. His stick-to-it-ness. For a moment, I remember how devoted he could be to something he believed in. Which is probably what makes him such a great agent. Seeing him work so hard at something really makes me feel like I want to help.
And I could help-by telling him the truth. And it will make me a better person, someone who appreciates what she has and doesn't hold on to some ridiculous charade in order to one-up her ex. I am better than that, and I can prove it. I can be mature. I'll just tell him. Right now.
But just as I am about to tell him the truth, the thing that will make his movie truly great and prove that I am a self-confident woman who doesn't care what anyone else thinks, he says: «That's it. I just figured it out.»
«What?» I ask, curious to hear what fabulous plot point he's come up with. See, Trip was right-collaborating can be fun!
«Why you're not wearing your ring,» he says. «That's it. I've figured it out.»
«Figured what out?» I say back very quickly, suddenly squirming in my office chair. This will be so much more embarrassing if he's figured out what I've done before I get to fess up to him and maintain at least one tiny shred of dignity.
«You're pregnant!» he says, jumping up from his chair and running around my desk to give me a hug. «That's why you're not wearing your ring! I knew you looked a bit bloated today. But, you're pregnant, aren't you? Aren't you?! You can tell me.»
Note to self: Must go home immediately and burn this entire outfit. And then murder my ex-boyfriend.
«I. Am. Not. Pregnant.»
«Oh, man,» he says, arms falling down to his sides as he releases his grip on me. «Are you sure?»
«Oh, yes,» I say. «I'm sure. Not pregnant, just bloated.»
«I don't know what to say, Brooke.»
And with that, those old feelings are gone.
«Get out,» I say, and Trip finally leaves my office.
Chapter Five
“What’s great about this film is that I don’t have to lose weight for the part,” Ava says to Rachel Star of Entertainment Now . “In fact, they’re encouraging me to gain more!”
Rachel Star nods back knowingly. I can just picture the two of them out to dinner now-I can have even more edamame?! And I can actually leave the rice on my sushi rolls?! Oh, happy day!
“Now, that sounds like my kind of shoot!” Lara says and she and Ava break out in giggles.
My ex-boyfriend’s wife is on Entertainment Now to talk about the new movie she’s starring in. That my ex-boyfriend wrote. About my life. Yes, my ex-boyfriend has taken the single most humiliating moment of my life-attending his wedding-and is turning it into a major motion picture, set for release next summer.
You can catch it when it comes out on the big screen, but please just do me a favor and don’t tell me if you go.
Oh, please. As if you’re not dying to go and see it now that I’ve told you all about it.
I roll my eyes at my best friend, Vanessa. She rolls back and takes a handful of popcorn. We both rushed home from work tonight to watch Ava’s appearance together. We’re at Vanessa’s apartment in comfy sweatpants, with a huge bowl of popcorn between us and a pitcher of margaritas to help wash it down. The pain, that is. Not the popcorn. (But it works on the popcorn, too.)
“Obviously they’re not talking about you,” Vanessa says. “They probably just want Ava to look more like a real woman. Not the stick figure that she is.”
Since Vanessa is a bit of a stick figure herself, this is not exactly a compelling argument from her.
But Vanessa’s right. It’s not actually all about me, since Trip doesn’t know the whole story involved with my coming to his wedding. He thinks it’s just your normal girl-goes-to-her-ex-boyfriend’s-wedding kind of situation. Thankfully, he doesn’t know about the part where Douglas broke up with me mere minutes before the wedding, forcing me to drag my friend Jack-complete with the kilt and faux accent-in his place. I even wore a fake engagement ring to really sell it.
“Thanks,” I say to Vanessa and we both look at the television. I take a big swig of my margarita. Maybe we should have cut to the chase and just had shots of tequila before watching this?
“So,” Rachel says, putting on a serious expression, “tell us more about the film.”
“Well,” Ava says. “It’s the story of a woman who goes to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding.”
“Wow,” Rachel says, “that sure sounds like quite a story!”
“It is, Rachel,” Ava says, leaning in to Rachel as if they’re sorority sisters or something. “It is. And lots of single women everywhere can relate to it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rachel says with a laugh. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go to an ex’s wedding.”
“It’s going to be a funny movie,” Ava says. “I can personally guarantee lots of laughs. And maybe even a tear or two.”
“They’re going to be lining up in droves to see this movie!” Rachel says.
And she’s probably right. Why couldn’t they be making a small art house film about my life that no one would ever see? Why must it be the movie that’s slated to be the biggest blockbuster of the summer? Why, oh why, must my life be so darned interesting that a major motion picture studio has green lighted a production about it?