Free Last Night at Chateau Marmont by Lauren Weisberger Page A

tell me about her. Where’s the wedding going to be?”
    “Well, Fern’s from Tennessee and has a huge family, so we’re probably just going to do it at her parents’ place. Next February, I think.”
    “Wow, moving right along. Well, that’s great news.”
    “Yeah, the only way we can be matched at the same place for our residencies is if we’re married.”
    “So you’re both continuing on with gastro?”
    “Yeah, that’s the plan. My interests are more in the scoping and testing area—they’re doing some incredibly high-tech things thesedays—but Fern is more a Crohn’s/celiac kind of person.” Trent paused for a moment and appeared to reflect on this before breaking into a wide smile. “She’s a great girl. I really think you’ll like her.”
    “Hey, buddy!” Julian said, clapping Trent on the back. “Of course we’ll like her. She’s going to be your
wife.
How crazy is that?” Julian leaned over and kissed Brooke full on the lips. He tasted delicious, like chocolate mint, and just seeing him was reassuring.
    Trent laughed. “Not as crazy as the fact that my socially stunted cousin has had himself a wife for five
years
now, but it’s up there.”
    It was on nights like this that Brooke couldn’t be prouder to be Julian’s wife. He was wearing his uniform, unchanged even after all these years: white T-shirt, Levi’s, and a knit cap. The outfit couldn’t have been less exceptional, but it had come to signify pure sexiness to Brooke. The cap was Julian’s signature, the closest thing he had to a “look,” but only Brooke knew it was more than that. Just last year Julian had been crushed to discover the tiniest bald spot in the history of hair loss. Brooke tried to assure him that it was barely noticeable, but Julian would hear none of it. And truth be told, it
may
have gotten slightly bigger since he’d first pointed it out, although she’d never admit it.
    No one who saw all those luscious dark curls peeking out from under the cap would ever guess what Julian was trying to cover up underneath it, and for Brooke, it only added to Julian’s appeal, made him more vulnerable and human. She secretly loved that she was the only one who ever got to see Julian without the cap, when he would safely pull it off at home and shake his curls just for her. Had someone told Brooke a few years earlier that she’d find her thirty-two-year-old husband’s increasing baldness to be one of his most appealing qualities she would’ve laughed with disbelief, but that is exactly what had happened.
    “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?” Brooke asked, searching his face for a hint as to how he was holding up. He’d been a wreckall week—barely eating, never sleeping, even vomiting earlier that afternoon—but when Brooke tried to talk to him about it, he’d completely turtled. She had wanted to accompany him to the venue that night, but Julian insisted she go with Nola. He said he needed to talk through a few things with Leo, get there early, make sure everything was set up. Something must have worked, because he looked a little more relaxed.
    “I’m ready,” he said with a determined nod. “I’m feeling good.”
    Brooke kissed him on the cheek, knowing he was racked with nerves but proud of him for holding it together. “You look good. You look ready. You’re going to be fantastic tonight.”
    “You think so?” He sipped his club soda, and Brooke noticed his knuckles were white. She knew he was dying for something stronger, but he never drank before a performance.
    “I know so. When you’re sitting at that piano, all you’re thinking about is the music. Tonight is no different from doing a gig at Nick’s. The crowd always loves you, baby. Remember that. Just be yourself, and they’re going to love you here too.”
    “Listen to her,” said an unfamiliar male voice. When Brooke turned around, there stood one of the best-looking guys she had ever laid eyes on. He was at least six inches