4. Lilian
Chapter 4
Lilian
I blink, staring at the mirror, at the man standing behind me.
It can’t be. It’s not possible.
“Sebastian.”
I’m losing my mind. The stress of this day is getting to me, making me see things that aren’t there.
His image doesn’t waver. Is this real?
Slowly, I stand, my legs shaking beneath me. I grip the edge of the mirror to steady myself, my eyes never leaving his reflection.
It’s been over seven years since things ended between us. But not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. Don’t replay our last moments together.
He’s different than I remember. Older, more mature. His jaw is sharper, his shoulders broader. But his eyes… those captivating green eyes that always seemed to see straight into my soul… they’re the same.
I’m afraid to blink, terrified that if I do, he’ll disappear. That this will all be a cruel trick of my imagination.
I reach out a trembling hand, my fingertips grazing the cool surface of the mirror. Tracing the lines of his face, the strong slope of his nose, and the curve of his lips. Wishing I could feel his warm skin beneath my touch.
The voices outside grow louder, the sound of footsteps approaching.
No. Not yet. I tear my gaze away from Sebastian’s reflection, my heart leaping into my throat. I need more time. Even if it’s not real, I need a little more time with him.
I turn back to the mirror, ready to beg him to stay, to not leave me again.
But he’s gone.
Ha. I slump to the ground. I’m going crazy.
The space behind me is empty, no trace of him ever being there.
A watery laugh escapes me. Of course. Of course, he’s not really here. He’s probably off living his best life, not giving me a second thought. And why would he? I’m the one who didn’t tell him about Jason.
I’m really…
A sharp knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts. I quickly wipe at my eyes, trying to erase any evidence of my momentary lapse into fantasy.
Ricarda bursts in, her face pinched with annoyance. “What are you doing? You’re smudging your makeup!”
“Give me a minute.”
“Another?” She pants. “We don’t have another minute. The ceremony is about to start.” She snaps her fingers at the makeup artist. “Fix her up. Quickly.”
The artist rushes over, brushes in hand. I sit still, letting her work her magic.
“Is everything okay out there?” I ask.
Ricarda waves a dismissive hand. “Of course. Usual pre-wedding mishaps. The caterer brought the wrong cake. ”
“The wrong cake?”
Ricarda laughs, the sound high and false. “It’s nothing to worry about, dear. A minor hiccup. We’ll have it sorted out in no time.”
I narrow my eyes at her. She’s lying. I can tell by the way she won’t meet my gaze, the way her hands flutter nervously at her sides.
Something’s wrong. Something more than a cake mix-up.
The makeup artist steps back, her work finished.
I stand, smoothing my hands down the front of my gown, and move toward the door. “I want to see what’s going on.”
Ricarda steps in front of me, blocking my path. “No, no, no. You stay here. I’ll handle everything.”
I try to step around her, but she mirrors my movements, her expression growing more strained by the second.
“Ricarda, move. I’m not going to sit here while who knows what is happening out there.”
“Signorina, please. You don’t want to ruin your big day, do you? Let your Uncle take care of it.”
The noise outside grows louder, many voices and… Is that Gemma?
Fuck this. I’m not some delicate flower that needs to be protected. I gather up my skirts and shove past Ricarda, ignoring her protests.
I hurry down the hallway, the voices growing louder, but one rings out clearer than all the rest. The fiery tone of my best friend Gemma. It’s coming from the entrance. My legs move on instinct as I race around the corner.
“—want to see Lil!” Gemma says.
“Is that too much to ask?” Mary adds.
They came.
Uncle Marc stands in front of them, blocking their way.
“What’s going on here?” I ask .
Uncle Marc turns to me, his face a mask of calm. “Nothing to worry about. Just a small misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” Gemma stomps her foot. “He won’t let us in.”
“Let them through, Uncle Marc,” I say.
“You don’t need any distractions right now,” he says. “It’s your wedding day.”
My voice is steady, but inside I’m shaking. “Exactly. It’s my wedding day, and I want my best friends here with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Uncle Marc’s jaw tightens. “These two don’t belong here. Especially not Ms. Barron.”
Gemma’s eyes flash with defiance. “We’re her best friends. You can’t keep us from her, not today of all days.”
“I can and I will. This day is too important to let anyone disrupt it,” Uncle Marc says.
I step between them, my hands shaking. “Enough.” I regard Uncle Marc. “They’re staying. End of discussion.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, and I hold his gaze, refusing to back down.
Finally, he steps aside. “Fine. But these two better behave.”
Gemma and Mary rush forward, enveloping me in a hug. I cling to them, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Thank you for coming,” I whisper.
“Of course, we came,” Gemma says. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world. Even though you went MIA on us for months.”
“We’re here for you. No matter what,” Mary says.
We move into a corner away from prying eyes.
“I… I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You know, it’s not too late to make a run for it. I’ve got a car waiting out back,” Gemma says .
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Lil,” Marc says, a warning edge to his tone. “The ceremony is about to start. We need to get you in position.”
He didn’t hear me, did he?
“I need a moment.”
“Signorina,” Ricarda appears beside Uncle Marc. “We really need to start now.”
“Why does nobody listen?” My voice raises. “I just need a moment. This is my wedding—”
“And mine.” Jason’s gaze bores into me, expectant and intense.
I force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. Shouldn’t my face light up when I see the man I’m supposed to marry? The man I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.
“Are you sure about this?” Gemma asks.
“I—” I try to force down the tightness in my throat. I don’t… This doesn’t feel right. I want—
“Everyone’s waiting,” Uncle Marc says.
“I need a few more minutes with my friends,” I say.
Jason scoffs. “She’s the sister of the guy who fucked you for sports. Is it because of him? Sebastian?” He practically spits the name.
Pain lances through my heart. If only things had been different between us… “He has nothing to do with this,” I whisper. “I just wanted my friends here with me today.”
“Friends. Do you hear yourself?” Jason asks.
“So what if they are?”
Disgust paints his face. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you be friends with them. That bastard alone was trouble. But I never thought his own sister would show up to ruin my wedding. At least he should have come himself, that coward. ”
I focus on my hands. The engagement ring glimmering in the light. Foreign. Uncomfortable. I feel nothing looking at it. Nothing.
“Your wedding,” I murmur.
“What?” Jason asks.
“You said ruin your wedding.”
“Yes. My—Our wedding.”
“Lilian,” my uncle says.
Study Economics. Become a Business Analyst. Work for the company. Date Jason. Go to therapy. Take medicine.
Marry Jason.
He’s the right one for you.
It’s enough. I ball my hands to fists.
I’m thankful for Uncle Marc. He took me in. But since college, it’s too much. Telling me what to do, what to think, and who to love.
It’s not his fault. It’s mine.
I let him. I wanted him to do it because I couldn’t trust myself anymore. But…
Nobody is going to save me. Sebastian isn’t going to appear out of thin air and object. Jason isn’t going to have a change of heart. Uncle Marc wants this.
I can only save myself.
“I’m—” I straighten. “I’m not going through with this.”
Jason’s eyes widen. “What?”
“I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.”
“Porca miseria.” Ricarda faints.
“Think about what you’re doing.” Uncle Marc’s face turns red. “Think about our family.”
“I am thinking about our family,” I say. “But I’m also thinking about myself. And I can’t do this. ”
“Enough! This wedding will go on as planned, and these two,” Uncle Marc points at Gemma and Mary, “will leave immediately. I knew they were trouble.”
“Uncle Marc, listen to yourself. It has nothing to do with them,” I say. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“Your father would roll over in his grave if he knew you were still associating with the likes of them, especially that Barron girl.”
“That’s enough.” Landon draws my uncle back. “Let it go.”
Uncle Marc whirls on him. “Stay out of this. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t. She’s our sister,” Levi says.
“Lil, please.” Jason grabs my arm. “Don’t do this. We can work it out.”
I yank it away. “Work what out? The fact that I don’t love you? That I never have?”
He recoils as if I’ve slapped him. “You don’t mean that. After everything we’ve been through, you’re going to throw it all away? For what?” His gaze lands accusingly on my best friends when it should be on me.
“This isn’t about them. It’s about me making my own choice, for once.” I take a deep breath, willing my voice to soften. “Please try to understand. Be honest. You don’t love me. You love the idea. We would both be miserable. We are not even a ‘we’. You said it yourself, and I did, too.”
He takes a menacing step toward me, but Gemma pushes between us. “Back off.”
“Jay, stop.” Chloe, his sister, bursts through the crowd and grabs Jason's arm, lowering her voice. “You're making a scene.”
“Making a scene? She's the one ruining everything.” Jason yanks his arm free and turns to my uncle. “Marc? ”
Landon steps between them, his eyes cold. “I suggest you go. Now.”
“Or what?” Jason’s face twists into an ugly sneer. “You’ll sic your attack dog on me?”
I flinch at the venom in his words. Is this really the man I was going to marry?
“Lilian, you’re not thinking clearly,” Uncle Marc says. “This is just pre-wedding jitters. It’s normal to have doubts, but you can’t let them control you.”
It’s like they don’t listen to me. “No, Uncle Marc. These aren’t just doubts. I can’t go through with this. I won’t marry someone I don’t love.”
“Love?” Jason scoffs. “What do you know about love? You’re a selfish little girl who doesn’t know what she wants.”
This time, Levi steps forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Watch your mouth. That’s our sister you’re talking to.”
Gemma and Mary rest their hands on my shoulders. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”
“Have it your way then.” Jason stalks off, the crowd parting before him.
Landon approaches me, face unreadable, and I brace myself for another confrontation, but he simply envelops me in a hug.
“It’s about time, little sister. I was beginning to think I’d have to object at the altar.”
He’s known how I felt this whole time?
Landon winks, then turns to address the murmuring crowd, commanding their attention and buying me time to slip away.
My eyes flick to Uncle Marc, disappointment etched into every line of his face. He turns and walks away, his shoulders slumped .
My heart sinks. I’ve let him down, the man who’s been like a father to me. But I can’t live a lie anymore. I can’t marry someone I don’t love. Is that really wrong?
“We’ll handle this,” Levi says. “You should go.”
“What about Uncle Marc?”
“Give him time.”
“Thank you.” I hug Levi goodbye before leaving my mistake of an almost-marriage behind in that venue.
Outside, the sunlight seeps into my skin, a welcome change from the cold dread that had invaded my entire body moments before.
“I can’t believe I did that.” The adrenaline is still coursing through me. “I called off the wedding.”
The girls engulf me in a tight group hug.
“You’re a fucking badass,” Mary says.
Gemma nods in agreement. “We need to celebrate this momentous occasion. Drinks on me, ladies.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for a night out.” I pluck at the fabric of my wedding gown, the layers of tulle and lace suffocating me.
“Nonsense,” Mary says. “We’re all in our fancy dresses. It’s like a goddamn fairy tale, except instead of Prince Charming, we’ve got tequila shots and bad decisions.”
We make our way to find the closest bar that’s open at this early hour in the bustling city. A mere two blocks away, we find one with a bowling ball and flickering neon signs. We step inside, and the people turn, gawking. It’s probably not every day that three women in formal attire come in here.
“What’re you looking at?” Gemma asks. “Haven’t you ever seen a runaway bride before? ”
The bartender, a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard, salutes at us. “What’ll it be, ladies?”
“Tequila shots.” Mary slams her hand on the bar. “Keep ’em coming until we forget why we’re here.”
And he does. We stay there, dancing, playing billiard with strangers, and drinking until it’s dark outside. Luckily, one of the hotels owned by Mary’s family is nearby. Although, I suppose it’s not really luck, considering they’ve got one in every significant capital.
Tipsy from the drinks we had earlier, we’re all leaning on each other for support, stumbling through the corridors to our rooms.
“See you in the morning?” Mary asks.
“Definitely,” Gemma says. “And then we’ll leave for our new life?”
Seems like I’m the most sober one.
“I’m already there. I’ll search for a flat for us, and then you guys have to move in. Deal?” Mary holds up her pinky.
I hook mine with hers. “Deal.”
“Let’s do this.” Gemma joins in.
We dissolve into another fit of laughter before pulling each other into a tight group hug.
“I love you both so much,” I whisper. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“We love you too. Always,” Mary says.
“You’re stuck with us,” Gemma says.
We say our goodnights, and they disappear into their respective rooms. I stand in the hallway, the events of the day finally catching up to me. My feet ache from the heels, and my head is spinning from the alcohol and the whirlwind of emotions.
I fumble with the key card, finally managing to unlock the door and stumble inside. The room is spacious and luxurious, but all I can focus on is the king-sized bed calling my name. I kick off my shoes and flop down on the mattress, the layers of my wedding gown billowing around me.
“What have I done?” I press my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the world.
Sebastian Barron.
“I miss you.”
It’s hard to breathe in this thing.
With a deep, steadying breath, I force myself to stand up and face the mirror hanging above the dresser.
Is this who I’ve become?
Guess there is no other option.
I explore the room and find a small pair of scissors. Craning my neck, I try to position them so I can cut through the ribbons holding the corset. I’m about to make the first one when a knock at the door sounds.
Oh, good. They can help me out of this.
Putting the scissors aside, I stride to the door and open it.
Oh, no.