Stunned, I couldn’t say anything at first. Alex’s eyes turned the color of rain. His mouth tightened, so slightly that someone who did not know him as well as I did might never have noticed. Under my palm, his heart began to race.
He was scared. He thought that I’d come home, see him for what he really was, and leave. He had no intention of letting me go; he was simply afraid that I’dwantto.
But then Alex couldn’t know that the last time I had been in L.A., the days had run together, one indistinguishable from another. He couldn’t know that my skin seemed to hum when he touched me; that I had never thought I was beautiful until I saw myself through his eyes.
He didn’t know, as I did, that I was the antidote to his pain; that he soothed me like a healer’s balm. I smiled and offered the comfort I had believed I would be needing. “You’ll see,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
ALEX TUCKED ME UNDER HIS ARM, AND I TURNED MY FACE IN TO HIS chest, but even closing my eyes couldn’t block out the sight of over sixty people jostling each other at the airport security gate to touch Alex’s sleeve and to scream questions and snap photographs of the newly married couple. I breathed deeply, smelling the soap from the inn in Kenya and the warm spice that came from Alex’s skin, and when I dug my fingers into his side he hugged me a little tighter. “Ten more minutes,” he whispered, brushing his lips over the top of my head. “Ten more minutes and I’ll have you safe in a car.”
I took a deep breath and straightened, intending to at least act the way I thought Alex Rivers’s wife should act: cool and unflappable, not some wilting flower. But by turning out of Alex’s shielding arm, I was giving the reporters their first full glimpse of my face. Bulbs exploded until all I could see were spots, dancing across my black field of vision, and Alex had to stop or risk my falling down.
“When did you get married, Alex?” “What’s she got that no one else has?” “Does she know about you and Marti LeDoux?”
I blinked. “Marti LeDoux?” I murmured, smiling.
Alex groaned. “Don’t even ask,” he said.
My eyesight came back into focus just in time to see one reporter straining at the velvet rope that held him back. He pointed to my stomach. “Should we be expecting a little Rivers in the near future?”
Alex moved so fast that even the cameras couldn’t catch him lunging at the reporter and grabbing hold of his shirt collar. I stretched out my hand toward Alex, trying to give the reporter the benefit of the doubt for what might have been a completely innocuous question. But before I could say anything to Alex, a mountain of flesh pushed past me, trailing a cloud of heavy floral perfume and a riot of teased red hair.
The woman pulled Alex away from the reporter and anchored him to her side with her arm around his waist, then came to stand beside me and put her arm around me as well. “Play nice with the other boys, Alex,” she murmured, “or you won’t be playing at all.”
Alex’s eyes burned at her, but he managed to smile for the curious crowd. “I thought you were going to send out a press release, Michaela,”
he said through clenched teeth. “Not invitations.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Is it my fault you’re a bigger draw than God?” She winked at me. “Since Alex doesn’t seem to be doing the honors, I’m Michaela Snow. I handle Alex’s public relations. Though from what you’ve seen, you probably know that Alex does not relate very well to the public.” She turned her attention back to Alex. “And for your information, Ididsend out your release—but you’ve got to admit that America’s most sought-after bachelor marrying an anthropologist, of all things, is bound to stir up some interest. The tabloids have been having a field day with you—John’s got them in the car in case you want a laugh.” She looked at me. “According to theStar, you are a Martian queen who’s zapped Alex with an extraterrestrial love warp.” She pushed Alex a few feet away. “Go on,” she said. “The sooner you do it, the sooner it’s over.”
I watched Alex walk toward the reporters and the cameras, and heard the whir of tape being set into motion in anticipation of a Big Announcement. Michaela put her arm around my shoulders. “You’ll get used to it,” she said.
I doubted it. I didn’t understand why these people had gotten up in the middle of the night to take notes and ask questions about something that wasn’t any of their business. I suddenly wished I were back in my dusty office atUCLA, where I could sit for days without a student interrupting or a phone ringing, and where I was just one of many. I was shocked at the idea that just by association with Alex, I would have to travel back roads, wear dark glasses, and let someone else fill my prescriptions. I could have Alex for the rest of my life, but my life wouldn’t be the way it had been, and that was the price I was going to pay.
Alex was making love to the cameras. He looked just the way he looked when we were in bed; he turned the same sloe-eyed gaze and lazy smile on the black lenses and shutters that faced him. “Hottest damn place I’ve ever been,” Alex was saying, in response to a question about Tanzania. He glanced at me, letting his stare run the entire length of my body until I blushed. “Of course, some days were hotter than others.”
“Let us meet her, Alex,” someone called. And another voice: “Are you legally married?”
Alex laughed, starting to walk toward me. “Well, the ceremony wasn’t conducted by a Zulu chief, if that’s what you mean. You’re going to have to take my word on this, since the marriage certificate’s already been forwarded to my lawyer for safekeeping.” He took my hand and gave a quick squeeze. “May I introduce my wife, Cassandra Barrett Rivers.”
The cameras flashed, but this time I was ready for them. I smiled, not quite knowing what constituted etiquette at a three a.m. makeshift press conference. Questions started rolling toward me, the words tangling up with each other: “How did you meet?” “Were you a fan of his?” “Is he a good lover?”
Alex lowered his head to mine. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.
“Turn your head to the right.”
Startled, wondering why he was giving me directions for something that up to this point had been natural for us, I stared at him. “Why?”
I said.
Alex smiled, pretending to nuzzle my ear. “Because that way I’m up-camera,” he said. “The PR’s more important for me than for you.”
He turned me so that the cameras had the best view of our profiles, his hands locked on my upper arms. “This is your last photo opportunity,” he said to the crowd. “You forget I’m still on my honeymoon.”
He bent toward me, and I watched his lips silently form two words before touching mine.Be brave.
I closed my eyes and pretended not to hear the clapping, instead letting my arms creep up around Alex’s neck and holding him tight against me. When he broke away from me, I blinked, wondering when he had lifted me off the ground, when his leg had slipped between mine.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, pulling me away from the reporters.
