brr4

Emma van de Camp sipped her lemon martini delicately as she sat at the bar of Bungalow 8, her legs crossed, looking stunningly amazing as she usually did.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Aubrey said, kissing Emma on the cheek and sitting down next to her at the bar. She set down her Judith Leiber clutch and ordered the same martini for herself. “I could not get off the phone with Chad before I left; he’s in London.”

“What is he doing in London?”

“I don't know.” Aubrey replied honestly, “How was LA?”

“LA was…” Emma paused, “LA was LA; the same plastic surgeries, the same tan bitches. If I could avoid LA for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t be devastated.”

Aubrey smiled, “We’ve lived in Manhattan our entire lives, how can any one expect we’d ever just adjust to any other city in the world but New York?”

“Exactly.” Emma smiled, “How are the wedding plans coming along? I can't believe in a month you’ll be Mrs. Chad Monroe. Are you freaking out?”

“I actually am.” She said, “Plans are plans, I don't know.”

“Oh no.” Emma sighed, “Second thoughts?”

“Third, fourth, fifth, and sixth.”

She sighed and bit her lip, “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing happened.” She said airily, “It’s just that pivotal moment when you realize you don't want what you have.”

“Or in your case, you don't love who you have.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you ever love him, though? Because I remember when you first started seeing him; you weren't smitten with him or anything like that and it wasn’t it for you right off the bat like it was for him. It was just plain. You know what I mean?”

“Yes.” Aubrey said as the bartender placed her martini in front of her, “But I feel somewhat obligated to marry him. You know? Like it’s a contract that I signed.”

Emma sighed, “The only thing you're obligated to do is tell him how you really feel. If you don't love him, why would waste a few million dollars on a wedding you don't want to have? But money doesn’t matter; both you and him could afford to throw a hundred million dollars down a well. Anyway, he deserves your honestly, if not more.”

“I think so.” She agreed, sipping her martini almost as delicately as Emma.

“Don't be so hesitant,” Emma advised, “Oh, no. You're just hung up on the fact that every one wants this wedding to happen, aren't you?”

“Well, how can I not be?” She asked, “My parents are so set on this marriage, and so are his. Two hundred and fifty some invitations have gone out, most of which have already RSVP’d. I’ve already got a dress; there are people counting on this wedding to happen. What kind of person would I be to just call it off? I’ve never not followed through on anything in my entire life, and I’m not about to start.”

“Marriage is something you just don't screw around with, though. Aubrey, don't you realize that?” She said, “You grew up with me, you saw what happened when people get married when they don't want to marry each other. My mother and my father divorced when I was six, you remember all of that. What is it? Are you not ready or you just don't want to marry him?”

“I just feel like this marriage is…based more on a contract than the actual, tangible, whole, full, amazing kind of love.”

Emma sat and let Aubrey’s words seep into the sponge that was her brain. “Well, then. You can't very well put yourself through something that you really don't want to do, so why put both of you through the misery and pain of divorce down the road if you know this isn't right anyway?”

She nodded slowly, sipping her martini, “I know.”

“Wait, Aubrey.” Emma said, “Have you ever been in love?”

“Only what I thought was love.” She sighed.

Emma smiled, “Aubrey, you are amazing. You deserve to be in full-fledged love for the rest of your life. I am so glad that you are my best friend.”

Aubrey smiled at her best friend, “So am I. You're the first person that actually listened to what I was saying.”

“What about Ginny, didn’t you tell her?”

“Ginny…well, she’s one of those people who just wants this wedding to happen; she wants the fairy tale for me. But she just couldn’t understand what I was saying to her. Chad and I…it isn't right. At all. But he could never see that.”

“No, of course not. But he does love you. At least you can say part of the relationship was true. But you owe it to him to break the engagement.”

“I know I do.” Aubrey said, “Are you coming to Bridgehampton with Ginny and I tomorrow?”

“I don't know. I just got back from LA yesterday; I’m jetlagged. I might stay at home. Are you?”

“I guess I am.” Aubrey sighed, “I could use a weekend away. The weather is supposed to be stellar.”

“Are you serious? That has to be a lie, Aubs. It’s been raining here all week, hasn’t it?”

“More or less.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky.” She said.

“So, how was LA? Give me all the details.”

“The weather was beautiful. I hung out with Becca most of the time.” She said, speaking of her older sister, who ran a trendy boutique in Hollywood.

“Meet any one?”

“Actually,” She said, swallowing a sip of her martini, “I was at Forty Deuce with Becca and Lindsay, who, by the way, is on serious drugs, and I met the nicest guy.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. He was adorable. Really sweet and charming. But he was a teensy bit drunk.”

Aubrey laughed, “Oh, sorry.”

“He was there for a birthday party or something. But we talked for a long time and we kissed. He’s a really sweet kisser.”

“Did you get his number?”

“Actually, I did.” She said, “But I’m not going to call him.”

“And why not? Are nice, charming boys not your type?”

Emma laughed, “Well, that, and because it was a one time thing. There isn't anything beyond those four or five kisses. And because he’s just not my type.”

“That’s understandable, I suppose.”

“I think you would like him. He’s nice. Like, genuinely nice.”

“Nice is a good thing.”

“It usually is, but you know how I am with bad boys.”

She laughed and nodded, “Of course.”

“Alright, now that we’ve both successfully had two martinis each, are you ready to go? Marquee awaits us eagerly.”

She smiled and put a fifty-dollar bill down on the counter, “Let’s go.”

Aubrey dropped her keys on the side table in the foyer at three o’clock in the morning and then slipped off her black Manolo Blahnik heels. She let out a sigh of relief as she walked back to her bedroom.

She unzipped her bright purple Proenza Schouler dress and hung it up on a pink silk hanger, placing it to hang on the back of her closet door.

She changed into her pajamas, a mint green lace nighty, washed her face and brushed her teeth, then crawled into her monstrous mahogany four poster bed. Just before she drifted off to sleep in the darkness of her Park Avenue master bedroom, she took off her double digit carat engagement ring and set it down on the side table.

The next day

Chad Monroe was the illustrious great grandson of Albert Monroe, an oil tycoon who was the first to independently drill in the Middle East. Granted, Albert Monroe had made millions of dollars, and by the time Chad’s grandfather had granted his father the rights to the family fortune, the Monroe family was worth billions in oil money with the help of a few smart investments in stocks.

Chad was the epitome of most excellently bred Manhattan boys. Unlike his father and grandfather, he avoided the path of oil tycoon and became a tycoon of the Wallstreet kind. He headed his own financial firm and handled stocks and finance for half of the city’s most illustrious corporations and companies. He had gone to boarding school at Exeter for most of his life, and attended college at Wharton.

He was brilliant and very, very handsome. He had sparkling green eyes and perfectly tailored brown hair that was cut once every three weeks, religiously. He always wore a suite and tie, and used Ma’am or Sir to address some one of authority or seniority. He was a kind person deep down; he had been raised right.

On this particular morning, he was exhausted because he’d just caught a red eye home from London, where he’d been overseeing the merger of two companies that would prove disastrous yet extremely profitable for all three sides.

Aubrey was the best thing that had happened to him in his entire life, and with that being said, Aubrey really was something special for him if he’d led such a wonderful and privileged life so far.

He was supposed to be having brunch with Aubrey, her parents, his parents and the wedding planner.

Two sets of parents were present and accounted for, along with the wedding planner. He knew he was there. But where was Aubrey?

He sat uncomfortably in his chair. Aubrey was never late, and if she was going to be late, she called. She hadn't called him; she was already fifteen minutes late.

“I don't know where she could possibly be,” said Aubrey’s mother, Felicity, “She’s never usually this tardy.”

“I know.” Chad agreed, sipping his mimosa, “I’m worried. She would have at least called.”

He sat quietly in the next few minutes as the parents and wedding planner discussed Aubrey’s tardiness. He was the type of person who, rather than sitting and talking about doing something, he actually did it.

He got up from the table and went out of the hotel, getting into his always-awaiting towncar. “Michael, can you take me to Aubrey’s, please?”

“Absolutely.”

Within five minutes, Chad arrived at Aubrey’s building. He gave a nod and a friendly smile to the doorman and went up to Aubrey’s penthouse. He let himself in using his key and walked in. It was nearing eleven o’clock in the morning and the penthouse was flooded with sweet sunlight. Compared to London, it looked like New York had been lit up with not only the light of the sun, but every Christmas light from Manhattan to the Long Island Sound.

“Aubrey?” He called, sliding his keys into his pocket. He walked into the master bedroom and looked at her neatly made bed; her maid came five or six times a week.

He narrowed his eyes when he spotted her engagement ring on the side table next to the bed. It glimmered in the sunlight and he sighed.

He heard the front door open and walked out of the bedroom. “Hi.”

She looked at him, apparently startled. “Oh, hi.”

“Brunch?”

“I know.” She said, “I didn’t forget.”

“We waited for you.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“It isn't like you to just not show up, Aubrey.” He said, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” She said, sipping her latte from Starbucks. She was dressed plainly in gray Camp Beverly Hills sweatpants and a lavender C&C long sleeved tee shirt, her hair pulled back loosely, “How was London?”

“London was fine.” He said, “I noticed your ring on the table in your room.”

“It’s heavy; I don't wear it all the time.”

He nodded slowly, “Why didn’t you come for brunch? I don't understand.”

She was going to wait until later to tell him that she didn’t love him, that she couldn’t marry him or that she didn’t want to be his wife. “Chad, can we talk?”

“We’re talking now, aren't we?”

She sat Indian style on her couch, “Will you sit?”

“What is this all about?” He asked suspiciously, “Aubrey?”

“I can't marry you.”

“What?”

“I can’t be your wife.” She said, “I just…I can't marry you, Chad.”

“Are you serious?”

She looked at him as if asking him if he was serious. She never said anything she didn’t really mean.

“You are.” He realized sadly. “We’re getting married in a month, Aubrey.”

“I know…”

“Was it something I did?”

“No, no…no, Chad. No. You're perfect.”

“So what is it, then?”

“I…” She paused, “Chad, I'm not in love with you. I wanted this so badly to work, for your sake and mine, but I can't feel what isn't there.”

He blinked and ran a hand through his hair, “Are you really sitting here telling me this, Aubrey? We’ve been together for four years. Why now? Why now are you telling me how you're not in love, Aubrey? We’re getting married next month. Less than a month, now. When were you going to tell me this?”

She sighed, “I didn’t want to come to brunch this morning because that would only be leading you on further, and I can’t do that to you. It isn't right.”

“Your parents are going to be upset.”

“I don't want to care about that.” She said, “My parents want what they want for me, but sometimes I want something completely opposite of that.”

“Not me?”

“Chad…”

“At least assure me it isn't some one else.”

“No, it isn’t.” She said, “It’s always you. It’s always been you, Chad. That’s what I’m afraid of. Before you there wasn’t any one; I can't marry you having not seen what else is out there.”

“Is that what this is about?” He said, “You think that by marrying me, your first love, your first everything, you're going to be missing out on something?”

“No…that isn't what I meant.”

He sighed, “I get it, okay? You're not in love with me. I can grasp that, I can come to terms with that eventually, Aubrey. But what I can't understand is why, after four years of this relationship, four years of you and I being so enamored by each other, you suddenly decide you don't love me.”

Aubrey was usually a woman who had no problem speaking fluently; this time, however, she was majorly tripping on her words. “I tried so hard to feel what you were feeling for me, Chad, but I just couldn’t do it. It isn't you, it’s me. I know that’s cliché. I just have this feeling that if I marry you, if we do this, I’ll be unhappy, and you’ll be unhappy because I will be. But, frankly, you don't deserve me. You deserve a woman who will truly love you, not like me. You're so amazing, Chad; I don't want you to waste yourself on me when I don't even feel the same. That isn't fair, not to you or to me. I don't want you to be cheated out of the true love you deserve.”

“While I appreciate your consideration, I can honestly sit here and say that I will never, ever, ever be over you, Aubrey Mischa Roehm. I will never get over you.”

She looked out the window at the sunlight shining brightly, not knowing what to say.

“I can't change your mind about this?”

She just shook her head, her brunette locks falling around her face out of her loose ponytail. “No. I’m sorry.”

He smiled and leaned back on the couch opposite of her, “You're amazing, you know that?”

She shrugged.

“Aubrey?”

“Hmm?”

“I understand.”

And just like that, she took one last glance at her now ex fiancée before he gracefully stood up, kissing her on the cheek sweetly, then walked himself to the door and out of her apartment.