Page 87 of Made for You
“Can you keep this confidential?”
“Of course.”
“I think one of them may have been involved in my husband’s death. Maybe both of them. Eden is my babysitter, but I just found out she also works for WekTech. And they’ve both lied to me about it.”
“Whaaaat?”
“Exactly. I need help finding out why. I just feel like it might be linked to Josh’s death.”
“God,” breathes Ally. I can hear the excitement in her tone. Her precious Making Julia documentary might get a murder angle, too. Her voice switches to one hundred percent business. “Julia, here’s what I can do. I’m going to call in a favor. Give me twelve hours, and I will move heaven and earth to get what you need. Is this a good number to call you back?”
“I’m changing phone numbers, so I’ll have to call you,” I say. I hesitate, but then I go for it. “Also...remember when you told me to name my price?”
“Yeeees,” she says.
“You offered me one million.”
“That’s right.”
“I want four.”
It’s a huge number, but with Josh gone, I have to think of my future. Annaleigh’s future.
There’s a longer pause. Then Ally says, “Consider it done.”
THEN
The wedding, a very rushed two weeks later, is televised. With the power of the network behind us, it has all happened at incredible speeds.
After a lot of debate, Andy is walking me down the aisle. The producers really pushed for it, and even though Josh didn’t love the idea as much as he seemed to when we got engaged, he’s being an adult and letting it slide.
Andy is also signing as our witness. He pulled me aside the day before to go over, in his words, “a few legal details.” Basically, that WekTech is retaining nominal ownership of me, in case the marriage doesn’t work out.
“It’s going to work out,” I said, a little miffed that he was obsessing about technicalities when here I was, fulfilling the very destiny he created me for.
“Sure, yeah, of course it will,” he said. “It’s just, if it doesn’t...”
“Stop!” I cried, laughing. “You’re going to jinx it!”
The venue, at a winery outside Indianapolis, has been decked out. Our wedding day dawns sunny and clear. I’ve seen the barn they’ve transformed into a chapel, and it’s lovely, with simple white chairs for the guests and wildflowers everywhere and a little arch Josh and I will stand under as the minister marries us. After the buffet-style reception, a band will play into the night. I’ll pretend not to feel like I want to puke my guts out every few minutes, and we’ll both smile like we’re not crushed that neither Josh’s dad nor his mom will be here today supporting us.
In the flurry of the day, as a whole assortment of bridesmaids twitter around me like nervous birds in their pink satin gowns, Cam is a rock. She keeps turning up with exactly what I need. A fresh coat of lipstick. Extra deodorant. A can of ginger ale. Another pack of oyster crackers.
It’s like I’m living two experiences at once.
One experience is the one everyone sees. An extravagant, country-sweet wedding. Every detail attended to, from the mason jar candles to the antique ivory tulle woven around the arch to the personalized gift bag underneath each of the guests’ chairs, tied off with a sprig of lavender.
The other is an invisible, interior experience. One that I have to live through alone—that Josh has to live through alone. The private grief and tension held behind our smiles.
When it’s all said and done, the moment of our wedding day that sticks with me, to my surprise, isn’t Josh and me saying our rehearsed vows, or him slipping the ring on my finger, or the tenderness in Camila’s touch as she holds my hair back while I puke—again.
It’s my moment with Andy, right before going through the barn doors into the chapel area where Andy will give me away to Josh. The cameras have just moved to the other side of the doors, so we have a single, miraculous minute of privacy.
“You look amazing,” he says. An echo of one of his first reactions to me on Launch Day.
I smile as best I can. “If I puke, just jump out of the way.”
But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he squeezes my hand. “Julia...you don’t have to do this.”