Save the Date! Read online

  "Okay," she said, quiet. "I'll do it. I guess."

  "Oh good, darling," Carlene said, giving her daughter a smile. She blinked, and Gemma could move comfortably again. Her mother had power with her eyes, more than her father had at his job. "I'm so proud of you. You're making the right decision. And once everything is in order and you're out of harm's way, there will be no need to go on pretending. You can go off and date whoever you want."

  "As long as he has no tattoos," Brent put in, "I just don't understand tattoos." He glanced back at his daughter. "Tomorrow, we have arranged for both you and Dixon to get your pictures done, you know, for the rehearsal dinner slideshow. It's at one o'clock in the afternoon. Is that going to be all right with you?"

  "Wait, Dad," Gemma said, trying to let everything settle in. "How'd you know I'd be back by tomorrow? How'd you know that Code Blue over here was going to catch me and Gillian?"

  "He's that good," Brent said, a smug smile on his face.

  "Speaking of Gillian," Carlene said. "You should probably have lunch with her before the pictures and introduce Dixon to her."

  "She's going to be so mad at me," Gemma muttered before she could stop herself.

  "And you and Dixon should get together and come up with some stories, yeah?" Brent added, and then pulled his daughter into a hug. "Trust me, pumpkin. Everything will work out, and once it does, you can go back to being normal." He paused. “Well, normal for you.”

  So you say.

  Chapter 3

  Gemma woke up at around eight o'clock the next morning. She yawned and stretched simultaneously, reveling in the feel of the tension that pinched her muscles. After a moment, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The first thing she did was glance at her bulletin board that was placed on the adjacent wall from her bed, next to her door. Sometimes, her mother or father needed to remind her of something or change plans at the last minute, but didn't want to wake her. Instead, they would pop their head in, lean through the door frame, and tack post-it notes in random places on the board. Once Gemma had read the note, she would dispose of it.

  This morning, there was only one note written in her mother's familiar cursive-infused scrawl. Remember you have to take pictures with Dixon at 1:00pm. Lunch with Gillian beforehand. Breakfast with Dixon at 8:30am. I suggest coming up with your backstory over breakfast. Will be out all day with your father. xoxo – Mom Gemma frowned at the message. It basically told her that she was going to be spending the whole day with Dixon.

  Gemma headed into the bathroom and took a nice, hot shower, trying to instill some of the meditation tricks she learned from her yoga class in order to calm herself down. When she had finished washing both her body and hair, she turned off the water and hopped out. She wrapped a towel around herself and headed into her room.

  Now… what to wear?

  Gemma walked over to her extravagant walk-in closet and began going through her various clothes. She knew that she needed to wear something nice, but not overly-formal for the pictures. After a good twelve minutes of debating, she decided on a flowy white skirt that went to her knees and a sky-blue t-shirt that dipped slightly in the front, but still maintained a classy feel to it. Her hair was half-up in a French ponytail, and she let the rest of her locks tumble down freely. She kept the make-up light, and on her feet was a pair of barely-worn Rainbow flip flops. After checking out her reflection in the mirror to make sure that everything was situated, Gemma glanced at her watch.

  8:37am.

  Oh well. So she was a little late. It wasn't as though Dixon was actually going to show up. She believed that, like her, he wasn't too pleased about his current predicament. Maybe he would quit! With that thought, she headed down the stairs and into the dining room only to find said Dixon sitting at the dining table reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of what smelled like strong coffee. His hair was a bit damp, as though he, too, had recently showered. He was dressed in a white, long-sleeved collared shirt and very dark jeans that fit him quite well. They weren't too tight, nor were they hanging off him. His blue eyes looked up at Gemma from over his coffee cup, and then he proceeded to take another long sip of the hot liquid. As he did so, his eyes shifted over to the wall clock and then back into Gemma's, silently pointing out that she was late and he knew it. Immediately, Gemma felt herself get defensive, and she turned to open the fridge so that her back was facing him.

  "I didn't think you would actually show," she told him, not even bothering to mask her contempt.

  "Don't sound too excited," he told her crisply, setting his coffee cup down and focusing his eyes on her tense back. "I already told you that this is my job. I do what my job entails me to do, no matter how mediocre." He muttered the last part, and grabbed his coffee cup, needing another boost of caffeine to course through his veins.

  Gemma bit her bottom lip to keep from retorting something as she poured herself some orange juice. "Look," she began after a moment, and once she put the carton back in the fridge, took a seat at the table across from him. "We both don't want to be here, obviously, but we're going to learn to deal with each other. So let's just get this whole story thing over with."

  "All right," he said, setting the cup down once again and folding his arms across his chest. His blue eyes seeped into hers, and for a moment she was paralyzed due to the intensity of his gaze. "Let's start off with something simple; how we met."

  "Oh, that part's easy," Gemma told him with a shrug of her right shoulder, and took a sip of her juice. "My dad assigned you to retrieve me from my delinquent behavior and when you saw my face, that was it. You had to have me." She placed her forearms on the table and leaned towards him. "I have a question for you; is your real last name Black?”

  Dixon rolled his eyes. "Your story isn't adequate," he told her simply.

  "Fine," Gemma said, "What about borrowing a plotline from successful romantic comedies? You have seen one of those, haven't you? We'll keep the first part of my original suggestion about my father wanting you to secretly look after me, so when we meet, I had no idea who you were. Then, I end up falling in love with you, and though you can't admit it to yourself, you end up falling in love with me. But then I catch you reporting back to my father, or something along those lines, and I am shocked, so I run away from you and refuse to speak to you for a while. But then you win me over and you propose and we live happily ever after." She shrugged.

  Dixon's brow rose as he listened to her story. When she finished, the edges of his lips quirked up into what might have been a smirk. Gemma couldn't tell; it was too subtle to be certain of anything. "You watch a lot of these movies, don't you?" he asked her, but she didn't have to answer; he asked the question as though he knew.

  "Yes, well," Gemma said, "It's not my fault women have to turn to movies to fall in love with actual decent, chivalrous guys."

  "You're awfully hard on my sex," Dixon noticed aloud.

  "Well, I think I have good reason to be," she murmured, staring into her orange juice. She didn't say anything on the subject after that.

  "So," Dixon said, and she was glad he had the good sense to change the subject, "the proposal. If we keep your second suggestion, how should I have proposed to you?"

  Gemma shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "You're the guy, right? How would you propose to a girl?"

  "Haven't you seen multiple proposals in your movies?" He perked his brow.

  "Well, duh," she told him, leaning back in her chair. "But, the thing is…" Her eyes began to stare off into space as a simple smile touched her lips. "The things is, while those movie proposals are really cute and romantic, they're not necessarily real, and sometimes they can be cliché. I don't know, I guess I've always wanted a guy to propose in a personal way, in a way that may not be incredibly romantic, but to me, it will be." When Gemma looked back at Dixon, she scowled at him. Apparently, he was trying to contain his laughter by pressing his lips into a thin line. "Oh, shut up. You're the one who's thirty-five. Shouldn't you ha
ve thought about proposing by now?"

  "I never intended on getting married," Dixon replied. "However, you’re right. I’ve thought of proposing before. I've never been the romantic type, actually…" Gemma's brows shot up, as though to say 'Really?' He frowned at it. "I've always liked sailing for fun," he continued, as though he hadn't seen her dry look. "And, if I ever were to propose to a girl, I would take her out sailing on a nice day. The boat would be filled with red roses. We would wait until sunset, and once the last rays hit the horizon, I would get down on my knee and propose."

  Gemma chewed her bottom lip, processing all of this. "I like it," she said after a long moment, "but we have to make one change." Dixon nodded, his stare blank, as though he knew this was going to happen. "Instead of red roses, fill the boat with sunflowers."

  "Sunflowers?" Dixon asked. "Why sunflowers?"

  "Because sunflowers are my most favorite flower ever," she told him with a genuine smile. "Roses are beautiful, don't get me wrong, but when I was a child, I was so afraid to touch them because I didn't want to break them or hurt them. So my mother would plant sunflowers, especially for me to pick and play with and stuff."

  Dixon let what she said sink in for a long moment, and then nodded once. "Sunflowers it is," he agreed, and then downed the rest of his coffee.

  Chapter 4

  The next few hours with Code Blue weren't as bad as Gemma thought they would be. Of course, she didn't say this aloud, but she silently acknowledged it, and that was enough for her. Maybe it was because she didn't feel the need to speak in order to make sure things weren't going to be awkward. The way she saw it, things would always be at least somewhat awkward given their circumstance, and because of that, there wasn't any real reason why she should try to fix something that would always remain just a little bit broken.

  To be honest, the silence wasn't all that weird either. Not that she was comfortable with him, but Gemma wasn't exactly trying to impress him, and therefore didn't necessarily care what he thought about her or how he felt. So as the clock ticked away, the silence reigned heavy on the dining room, but neither of them cared. Dixon was reading the newspaper while Gemma was reading a book. Only when it was ten after eleven did Gemma finally stand and put her book away.

  "I'd like to mention just how surprised I was when I saw that you read something other than Cosmo," Dixon murmured in his usual cryptic tone as he folded the newspaper and set it on the corner of the table. Gemma wasn't sure, but she could swear that the corner of his lips were twitching, as though they wanted to break out into a smile, but as usual, Dixon was quite successful at preventing such a thing from happening. "I thought shopping was more in your arena," he added, his eyes sparkling in humor.

  Gemma rolled her eyes, trying not to let his words bother her. It wasn't as though this was the first time someone had made some stupid comment like that. People always seemed to underestimate her because she had a wealthy family, blonde hair, and big boobs. Despite it, she always managed to keep her head up, striving to prove them all wrong like the heroines in her favorite movies: Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and Cher from Clueless. They were both blonde and wealthy, but they were smarter than people gave them credit for.

  "Let's just go, okay?" she murmured, avoiding his eyes as she hurried back upstairs to grab the keys to her car. When she came back down, Dixon was leaning against the doorway frame, looking at her with those peculiar blue eyes. At that moment, she felt her stomach clench, but she didn't understand why, nor did she let her mind dwell on such a fact. "I'm driving."

  "I'm sure you are," he muttered under his breath, and though Gemma clearly heard it, she wasn't quite sure if Dixon was supposed to be insulting her or complimenting her. Gemma figured he would never do the latter, but she still wasn't sure just why she should feel insulted.

  Once the car was on the road, Dixon leaned over and turned the radio on, changing the channels until he found what he was looking for – the alternative channel. Gemma immediately frowned at this, and changed the channel to what she liked – country.

  "Excuse me," Dixon said, clearly affronted, as he turned his head to look at her. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

  "My car," Gemma explained, shrugging her shoulders while she kept her eyes on the road. "And I'm driving, so I get to choose the radio." She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “I figured you’d like country.”

  "What, because of my accent?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I look like some kinda redneck?”

  “Where are you from, anyways?” she asked, nodding her head to the twangy music emitting from the speakers. She saw the cookie-cutter two story houses on either side of the road. They looked almost exactly like her house.

  “Georgia.” A pause. “Atlanta. Some backroad town you wouldn’t-a heard of.”

  “I’m a lot smarter than you think I am,” she said, making a left.

  “Sure ya are, Blondie.” His eyes looked back down at the radio. “I was listening to that music, you know.”

  Gemma glanced over at him with a 'Do you think I really care?' look. "Why do you like that kind of music anyways?" she asked him, returning her eyes to the road. "It's all about grown men whining about their problems."

  "Oh, and country isn't?" Dixon asked, catching her off-guard.

  She opened her mouth to protest, and shut it abruptly before letting a slight growl slip out of her mouth. Dixon grinned when he saw that she realized he was right.

  "There are more female perspectives in country though," Gemma told him, and then smirked in triumph.

  Dixon merely rolled his eyes as he leaned his head back down on the headrest, preparing for a rather long car ride with whiny people singing their whiny songs about alcohol and Jesus.

  “There was a reason I left the south,” he muttered under his breath, but Gemma’s sharp ears heard it.

  ---

  "This is weird."

  The redheaded Gillian continued to look back and forth between her friend and the man they had so recently dubbed as Code Blue. She had known Gemma for so long – since second grade – and all of a sudden, she's engaged to this guy Gillian thought Gemma originally despised.

  Her eyes studied Dixon quite intently, having no qualms about staring at some strange man. She had to give him props for matching her piercing stare with one of his own.

  It wasn't as though he wasn't handsome – he was, in a rough-around-the-edges sort of way. But he was Code Blue, the man who had prevented them from running away, prevented them from getting to Dana Carvey!

  Why would they get married so quickly, anyways? It wasn't as though –

  Oh shit.

  "Oh my God, Gemma," Gillian said, narrowing her eyes into her best friend's. "Are you pregnant?"

  ---

  Dixon nearly choked on the drink he was currently drinking at even the thought of doing such a thing with her, while Gemma's whole face turned crimson red.

  "Wh-what?" she yelped, quickly reaching behind her to lose her fingers in her hair. It was a gesture she seemed to do whenever she was uncomfortable, and right now, she was feeling the discomfort quite thoroughly. "Pregnant? No way, Gillian. No way!" She laughed nervously at even the thought she would ever have Dixon's kids.

  As if.

  Gillian narrowed her eyes in Gemma's direction, trying to read her. Gemma had always been quite easy to read, and since they had known each other for quite a while, the young woman was a privy of knowledge for anyone who took the time to try and decipher it. She seemed satisfied with Gemma’s response, and Gemma let out a shaky breath.

  "Okay, okay," she replied, raising her hands up defensively. Gemma took another bite of her Cesar salad. "It's just weird, Gem. I mean, we barely know this guy and all of a sudden I hear that you're getting married to him. It's all going so fast that I figured there had to be some sort of reason besides, you know, passion. And with your dad being your dad… Well, I could definitely see him trying to get you to get married if he found out
you were pregnant to save face from some scandal."

  Dixon stopped chewing and frowned upon hearing Gillian's statement before looking at Gemma from the corner of his eyes. Gemma could feel his stare as much as the blush that currently tainted her cheeks. She didn’t think he needed to know just what her father would do in order to save the family and himself from a scandal.

  "Well, you don't have to worry," Gemma told her friend in a firm voice, pushing past her thoughts. "I'm not pregnant. I promise." She gave a curt nod as though to further emphasize her point, before forcing a smile.

  "I believe you," Gillian said with a sincere smile. "But you're going to have to explain this to me, Gem, because I just don't understand."

  "Well," Gemma said, knowing full well what she had to say which is probably why her voice came out as shaky as it did. "I will tell you, Gillian. Me and Dixon… Well, we are…" Come on, just say it. Say it. Say it! "We are in love." She looked over at Dixon, who immediately pinched a smile onto his face and nodded a couple of times.

  "Absolutely," he said after he swallowed his food. "Love… and all that."

  Gillian still didn't believe them. "I guess what I don't understand," she began, twirling her fork filled with spaghetti as she spoke, "is how you could be in love with Code Blue after all this time and not tell me. You know I would have kept your secret, Gem. I may not quite have understood why you were in love him, although he is handsome, but I wouldn't say anything to him."

  "I know," Gemma said, her brown eyes pleading with Gillian's. "I know, and I'm sorry, Gillian. Really, I am."

  "It was my fault," Dixon said, cutting her off. She had no idea why he was helping her, but she was glad he decided to step in right then. Even if it was difficult to understand what he was saying. "I told her that in order to protect my job and my standing with her father, I didn't want anyone to know about us until we were certain he would let the two of us get married."

  Gemma stared at him in awe for a long moment, up until the point that Dixon met her eyes with his. They looked at each other if only for a few seconds, before Gemma looked away and nodded at her friend, as though she was confirming Dixon's story. A light breeze picked up her hair and she leaned back against the metal café chair.