26

Linda

“Look at it this way,” Axel replied. “You get to plan the most extravagant party you can. On my dollar. Have fun! Will you give this drinks list to Andy?”

I rolled my eyes—Axel might now have me as his fake-fiancée, but he still wasn’t afraid of bossing me around. But I obliged him by running down to Andy, where I slapped the list of expensive wines and fancy cocktails down on the bar. “Boss’s orders,” I said cheekily.

I giggled when I saw Andy’s furious expression. He’d been pretending to be in a bad mood with me ever since the news of mine and Axel’s ‘engagement’ had broken.

“Y’all decided not to tell me,” said Andy, the wine sommelier, when I explained to him, “that you and the boss were dating?”

“I thought you might be mad,” I said.

“MAD? Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that love comes from unexpected places. I just wish you’d told me, is all.”

And the amazing thing was, despite the news, and despite the short notice at which it had arrived in my life, people were happy for me. When I told Sara the news one evening and asked her to be my maid of honor, she squealed and practically jumped on me.

“Sara,” I said, “Wait a second. It isn’t real, okay? I don’t actually love Axel. It’s a fake marriage.”

“Honey,” she told me while embracing me and kissing my cheeks, “I didn’t expect any less of you. All those fancy uptown weddings are fake anyhow.”

“No!” I groaned. “Not like that. I mean, I guess it is a little bit like that but…”

“You’re gonna be making some real dinos outta this one, huh?” she said, rubbing her fingers together.

“SARA!” I yelled, outraged. But we couldn’t help but laugh. But it hurt to be getting married to the man who’d left me without help so many years ago.

Of course, there were also upsides.

Our visit to the fLindenr shop was like nothing I’d ever seen. Axel chose a fancy place up in the wide streets and green boulevards of uptown Manhattan. We walked among the rows of budding blossoms and gorgeous white roses and carnations with a helpful sales assistant dressed in a smart suit guiding us. She wandered around.

“And have you thought about the bouquet?” she said.

I practically froze. Of course, I hadn’t. If it had been my own wedding, my ‘real’ wedding, I’m sure I would have agonized about it, spent sleepless nights thinking about what fLindenrs to have, in what arrangement, how big the bouquet would be. But in the department store, I blushed. I couldn’t say anything.

“She’d like something with white roses and white carnations,” suggested Axel.

“Um, no she wouldn’t, actually,” I said. “I’d prefer white chrysanthemums and lavender.”

“Oh,” said Axel, and nodded at the sales assistant. “Sure, we’ll do that,” he said.

Outside the store, I noticed he was scowling. “What?” I said.

“You made me look like an ass in there!” he growled.

“You made an ass of yourself,” I said. “White roses? In a bouquet? That’s pretty basic, Axel.”

“I don’t know what any of this means,” he admitted grumpily.

When we got to the dress store, it was even worse. Axel had brought me to Atelier Harmonique, a beautiful store in midtown, where they made bridal dresses for princesses and visiting dignitaries. It was astonishing. I’d never seen such rare and beautiful clothes. There were corsages made from 19th-century lace, beautiful skirts, and blouses made from fabrics you just didn’t see anymore, like velour and crenalin.

“Hasmadamethought about the style of the dress she would like?” said the tailor, when we sat down together in his beautiful office. Dotted around the place were mannequins, and there were incredibly rare models of Haute-couture designs hung on the walls, like pieces of art.

“Not really,” said Axel, but I cut in again.

“I’d like something pretty classic,” I said. “Maybe an A-line, with lace on the straps?”

The tailor nodded, smiling, and I saw him searching through photograph albums. He showed me a few pictures, and I nodded. We chatted for at least an hour. In the end, he had just one question.

“Are you wearing gold or silver?” he said.

“Gold,” I said. “Isn’t that right, honey?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Axel roll his eyes.

“Sure it is,” he moaned.

“I must congratulate you on marrying a woman of good taste,” the tailor said to Axel, as we left the store that afternoon, with Axel’s wallet $50,000 lighter than when he came in.

“Did you really need to chat for that long?” said Axel. “We’ve been in there for like, two hours.”

“It’s just like you said,” I replied, innocently shrugging. “We want it to look right, right?”

I flashed my eyes at him and, not for the first time that week, enjoyed watching Axel seethe. He might be the one with the cash, but I was the one who understood the secret operation we’d embarked upon. In the end, I was the one who knew how to make things convincing.

So I led Axel around town, visiting caterers, party planners, and the priest, and all of it was just a big lie: a lie designed to present an impression to the world of two people who’d decided to join their hearts and minds for the rest of their lives. But the truth was that Axel and I were increasingly growing apart. It hurt me to have to bring an end to the affair we’d been carrying on. But I knew that things would be too complicated if I didn’t stop now. If my name ended up on the marriage license next to a man I was sleeping with, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between fact and fiction.

There were other, darker feelings in my mind too. I’d been close that day in the Park, to telling Axel the truth: that he was Macy’s father. Even if I felt like I knew him better than anyone, I was at a loss to explain how Axel would take the news. I still thought I could keep it from him, that I could shield him from the knowledge of what he had done. That he had a child, that she was my daughter. And that she was a constant reminder of why we could never be together. And I feared what would happen if Axel found out. I couldn’t trust him. His reach and influence were beyond my understanding. What if he tried to take Macy from me, or threatened the perfect peace I’d surrounded my life with?

Still, I couldn’t deny to myself that it was great fun to plan a wedding. Each hour of each day was spent with some new task that we had to get done, some new decision that had to have the bride and groom’s seal of approval. Of course, Axel thought it was all ridiculous. But he had to make plenty of arrangements.

First: the guest list. Axel invited everyone who worked at The Blue Orchidand for his company, but he didn’t have a single family member on the guest list. We discussed it one day while sitting at the bar of Crumb, a flashy, upmarket wedding cake maker in Brooklyn.

“Are you sure this is all you want to have?”

“I figured that if I was getting married for real, I’d want to keep it pretty small,” he told me. “I like the chocolate one. Very nutty.”

“What about me?” I said. “I’m not letting my parents come. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Of course not,” he said. “That’s what the actors are for.”

“Actors?” I said. “Mm, this strawberry’s nice.”

“You know, actors?” said Axel. “They pretend to be other people.”

“In movies or TV, Axel. Not in real life.”

“This isn’t real life,” he said. “It’s make-believe.”

“Well, it would be nice if it was,” I said and smiled at him. But Axel’s smile had disappeared in recent days.

When the big day came, I was driven down to the church in the beautiful dress Axel had bought for me. At the entrance to the chapel, I met Sara and my bridesmaids, all girls from the restaurant. There were smiles and giggles as we got together, and then from behind the front door of the building, appeared a handsome man in his early fifties.

“Linda! My baby girl!” he said.

“Dad…?” I said.

He stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek, then hugged me while I stood awkwardly in front of the girls. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Is that your fake dad?” said Sara to me in a low voice as we stepped out of the sun and into the cool darkness of the church.

I nodded weakly. “He looks like he could be my older brother.”

But I was amazed. As the organ played and I walked down the aisle, surrounded by people I knew, no one stood up. When the priest asked the crowd if there were any objections, I expected twenty people to stand up and say, “It’s a fake!”

But no one did.

Everything went perfectly.

And while I still felt like Linda Ryder as we walked out into a shower of confetti, I wasn’t her anymore. I was Linda Linden. Legally bound to Axel Linden in marriage.

***

We had a reception at the fancy hotel over the road. From there, we’d be driven by limousine toThe Blue Orchidfor the evening do. But during the photographs, I couldn’t help but think about Macy. I didn’t want her to know about any of this, so I’d arranged for her to stay with Sara’s cousin Luisa. She lived in a cool brownstone in Brooklyn, and I knew Macy would be safe there and have a nice time.

But still, I felt torn as I smiled at the photographs. I wondered if someone would find them one day. Would they be able to see that it was all a sham, just from the look in my eye?

Later, over the drinks, I began to realize what I’d just gotten myself into.

“Where are you going on honeymoon?” one of Axel’s business colleagues asked me.

“Oh, we haven’t decided yet,” I said. “After all, we’re so busy with everything at the moment.”

“You could always go to the farm if you like. I’d be happy to sell the thing, actually. You and your husband ought to go and look at it.”

I mentioned this odd exchange to Axel later, and he gave me the first smile I’d seen from him in weeks.

“Thatfarm…” he said, “…is on Martha’s Vineyard. He’s been trying to sell the thing to me for months, but I keep telling him 100 million dollars is too much money.”

“Hundred—” I said in disbelief, but Axel had already been swept away by more admirers and guests. I sighed. Was this how it was supposed to be on your wedding day? I’d barely seen him. Not that I was thinking about him, of course. Only I kept longing for the way he’d had his hand around my back in the photos, the graceful way he stood by me. It felt nice to pretend, I guess.