21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Charlotte
‘ H i Charlotte!’ An amused chorus sounded from the table. I smiled and waved toward the floral centrepiece, not quite sure where to look.
‘Cupcake?’ I hissed incredulously as I stepped across Aiden and into the chair that he’d pulled out for me.
‘You wanted a nickname,’ he answered dryly, a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth.
‘That’s not what I had in mind,’ I whispered. ‘That’s worse than the pig option!’ A low chuckle rumbled through his chest and he pulled my chair closer to his.
‘You can be mad at me later,’ he whispered. ‘Look.’ I turned to the entryway just as the MC’s voice called for quiet.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is my greatest of pleasure to introduce to you… Mr and Mrs Miller!’
***
I never dreamed that I’d be one of those girls. You know, the ones who got weepy at weddings. My eyes had misted over during the ceremony, sure, but I’d blamed that on nerves and virtually no sleep. But when Aiden subtly offered me a tissue during the father of the bride’s speech, I’d been forced to admit that I just might be one of those girls after all. Giving him a watery smile, I took the tissue, choosing to ignore the pack I’d brought along, and left them in the bowels of the clutch beneath my seat. Aiden smiled softly back at me, the slivers of gold in his eyes shimmering as he took my free hand in both of his and held it in his lap.
Something had shifted between us since the incident ; he’d been a lot more affectionate since the library. My gaze flitted around the table. It made sense. I supposed. We’d agreed to this—that’s what the clause was for. I just wasn’t prepared for quite so much touching. A nudge of the knee here. A hand hold there. Aiden was always touching me in some way. My stomach fluttered as his thumb pad brushed back and forth across my knuckles. It was as lovely as it was confusing.
Blotting under my eyes with the tissue, I was relieved to find that I wasn’t the only one in need of a tissue. Most of the table had known either Ed or Tilly since university. Except for Susan, who’d known Tilly since primary school. She was seated across from me and was biting down on her lip, her hands balled into fists in her lap. Now and then she’d tilt her head backwards and blink furiously at the ceiling before her attention returned to whomever was speaking. Her fiancé, Gabriel, was watching her with a bemused smile on his face and, after a particularly touching anecdote, he rested his arm on the back of Susan’s chair, careful not to touch her but offering silent support.
Erin, the friendly, raven-haired woman who’d hugged me earlier, was wrapped in the arms of her boyfriend, Micah—another of the groomsmen, and was softly hiccupping through her tears. And James, the final groomsman, was openly weeping, clapping loudly at the end of every speech, and his booming laugh lasted long after the rest of the room’s polite chuckles.
To my surprise, the stories the group shared over dinner weren’t only the nostalgic ones from their childhood. Some of them were only a few years old, including one about a fight the bride and groom had had on their recent trip to Venice and how Tilly had got so mad at Ed that she’d shoved him into a canal. But as I laughed along, I couldn’t help but think of my own friendships and wonder what stories, if any, would be shared at my wedding.
Only two of my high school friendships had withstood the test of time, and, over the years, their calls and texts had grown more sporadic as everyone’s lives got busier. But that was normal. I frowned, doubt niggling at the back of my mind as I surveyed the group in front of me.
We’d been inseparable, Hannah, Andi, and me; practically living in each other’s houses over summer, reading glossy magazines, binge watching The Vampire Diaries and arguing over who was more attractive, Paul Wesley or Ian Somerhalder—Paul Wesley. Duh.
They’d cried just as hard and as often as I had when we’d found out about Mum’s diagnosis, and they’d been there to hold the pieces of my fractured soul the winter of her passing. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen either of them in person.
Mum and I had shared that dream of my becoming a lawyer, but after she died, I was all that was left of our dream. The dream that had taken me to London and LSE while Hannah and Andi studied closer to home. We’d clung to one another on my last night, whispering promises of visits and vowing to be friends forever, but while they went to house parties and school formals, I studied and completed my assignments early. And instead of travelling home for the holidays, I’d enrolled in vacation schemes and summer internships that would look good on my CV.
I chewed on my lower lip, my heart sinking slowly as I pushed the remaining food around on my plate. If I were ever to get married—and Hannah and Andi actually came—their stories would be a decade old. They’d be about the girl from their childhood, and not the woman I was today.