Warner held the door of his black Mercedes convertible for Elle, and she slid into the plush oyster-colored leather seat. She gazed up at the sky to make sure the stars were in alignment, as Cosmo had promised they would be. They were. Suddenly she felt completely sure that tonight was the night. They drove for a while in contented silence, the cool air of a California October night blowing the golden blow-dried strands of her hair.
“I hope you won’t be disappointed, Elle,” Warner said as he exited the freeway. “I know you wanted to go to our favorite place, the Beach House, but I thought we should go to the Ivy tonight, since it’s the place where this all began.” He smiled at Elle in all his perfection and placed his hand high on her thigh.
“You could never disappoint me,” Elle purred back. She glowed as she placed her unadorned left hand on top of his. “Our first date was one of the most amazing nights of my life.”
They were stuck in Los Angeles traffic under a Calvin Klein billboard. The model loomed over them, a bronzed work of art. Elle stared at Warner’s golden profile with adoration and thought how lucky she was and how she’d be even luckier by the end of this glorious night. There could be nothing better than spending the rest of her life with Warner Huntington III.
Elle’s entrance into the Ivy caused a stir. Even here, where every night the restaurant was filled with long-legged blondes and movie stars, her radiant beauty and sweet smile made her stand out. Several men tried to get her attention as she and Warner made their way to their table. Warner wore a look of satisfaction as he observed the other men admiring Elle.
A waiter of the L.A. variety, who really considered himself an actor, came to take their order with an annoying dramatic flair. “Hi, I’m Zach and I’ve gotta tell ya, we’ve got some fresh fish tonight so good it oughta be against the law!”
“Actually, we’re ready to order,” Warner said abruptly without looking at the menu or the waiter. Elle and the waiter exchanged puzzled glances, and she began to protest, but was silenced when Warner ordered a bottle of Cristal. He must be so nervous, she thought, and immediately felt sorry for him as he got ready to ask the biggest question of his life. She lowered her head and looked up through her Chanel-enhanced lashes.
“Tonight is so wonderful, Warner, and you should know, I plan to keep the celebration going all night.” She leaned forward seductively, expecting Warner’s ice blue eyes to meet her smoky stare, but to her amazement, he was gazing distractedly around the room.
“Is something wrong, lovebug?” Elle asked as the waiter headed toward their table with the champagne.
“Nothing at all, Elle,” Warner replied, patting her hand as his attention returned to her. He motioned the waiter to pour the champagne. “In fact, things couldn’t be better.” He smiled and took a deep breath.
Elle just knew this was it. Maybe it was a little odd that Warner wasn’t waiting until after dinner, when the ring could be nestled in crème brûlée, but, she reasoned, he must be too overcome with nerves to wait.
“Elle,” he began in a low, confident voice, “the last three years with you have been perfect.” Elle sighed in agreement. “Tonight, I want to share the best possible news with you.”
Elle’s heart skipped a beat, and she took a deep breath to control the urge to blurt out, “Yes! Yes I will marry you!” Warner paused and waited until the waiter finished filling their glasses and left them alone again. “Well first, darling, I have something I want to give to you.”
Elle closed her eyes and tremulously extended her left hand to Warner, hoping this would help him slip that “something” on her finger. She could hear the pealing of wedding bells in her head and was wondering if she should go with Vera Wang or a completely unknown but soon-to-be-famous dress designer when Warner’s voice invaded her reverie. “I want to give you this reminder of our time together,” he said gently.
Elle frowned, somewhat disconcerted by the use of the word “reminder.” Why would he call an engagement ring a “reminder”? she wondered. Then she remembered what Serena said Cosmo said about how nervous Brad Pitt had been when he asked Jennifer to marry him, and she smiled at his clumsy word choice. It was so adorable! She closed her eyes again, only to open them again in confusion as she felt Warner turn her left hand over so the palm faced up.
“Warner, what are you doing?” Elle demanded as she stared at the Cartier ID bracelet she had given to him on their second anniversary. It had been engraved Elle and Warner forever.
“I thought you’d want me to return it,” he replied sweetly as he closed her palm and brought it to his lips.
“Return it?” Elle said, jerking her hand back. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, I knew when you gave it to me that I could never return your feelings, so I thought…” He let his words trail off and licked his lips as he looked around. Elle stared at him in disbelief. His words began to blur and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“What I mean is, I thought now would be a good time to give it back. We’re not going to be together forever, Elle. You know that. It was a sweet thought, but I’ve decided to turn my life around and get serious. I think we should make a clean break before I leave for Stanford Law School.” He paused, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t and just stared at him he continued quickly. “Oh, right, did I forgot to tell you I’ve decided to go to law school next year? That’s the good news I wanted to tell you.”
Elle’s mouth was dry. She reached for the champagne flute, but realized her hands were shaking and she couldn’t safely hold the glass without risk of spilling it on her dress.
“What are you talking about?” Elle’s voice was louder than she intended. Warner looked around the restaurant nervously.
“When you said you’d always love me were you just being optimistic? And when you said you’d never felt this way about anyone before were you lying? And how could you make a decision about your life, our lives, like law school without telling me? How long have you known?” Her voice was shaky and suddenly her sobbing was uncontrollable.
“I didn’t lie, Elle,” Warner whispered, trying to make sure Will Smith and Jada Pinkett, seated two tables away, couldn’t hear them. “I never told you that I felt the same way you did, did I? Think about it.” Before Elle could respond he took her hands in his. “Listen, honeybun, this is really hard on me. Can’t you see that? You know how much my family expects of me and the high standards I have for myself—”
Elle interrupted him by yanking her hands away from him. She glared at him in anger and disbelief, but Warner continued on.
“I had to ask myself, ‘Warner, is it worth it to go through any more of my life with a girl who will never be serious enough to be my wife or the mother of my children?’ Do you know the courage this took, Elle? How hard it was for me?” He paused for a moment and appraised her cleavage. “Really hard,” he added. He looked down, apparently wounded by his own high standards.
Elle left the table and turned angrily on her heel, leaving Warner fumbling for his wallet so he could escape the restaurant without any further embarrassment. He threw some money on the table and hurried after her.
Outside, the valet looked up from the screenplay he was writing long enough to give Elle an appreciative once-over in spite of her tear-blotched face. She was about to ask him to call a cab for her when Warner cleared his throat audibly behind them, and the valet jumped up and ran to get the car.
“C’mon, Elle,” Warner said. “Let me take you home.” At that moment home was just where she wanted to be, and the faster she could get there, the better. Sullenly, she agreed.
After what seemed like an eternity to Elle, the car screeched up. Warner barely gave Elle time to close her door before he turned up the volume on the radio and merged into the Friday night traffic on Robertson.
Elle could not believe what had happened. She stared at Warner’s perfect profile. “This is not happening,” she said to herself. “It’s 2002. It’s the time of Buffy, Charmed, and Charlie’s Angels. Be strong.” Elle imagined Warner meeting up with Buffy in a dark alley and felt a tiny bit better until the violence of the image was shattered by a glimpse of her still-unadorned left hand. She felt trapped in an Aaron Spelling drama where bad things happen to good-looking people.
Warner had pulled up in front of the Delta Gamma house. When he noticed Elle waiting for him to come around and open her car door as he always had before, he leaned across her, opened the door, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“See ya, Elle,” he said with his hand resting on the shift already in first gear.
Elle stumbled out of the car and into the house entirely devastated, completely un-Buffy, and resoundingly un-Elle.