Chapter 38 Luc #2
“Thank you too, Claire,” I say in French to the person I used to consider my competition. I’m now starting to see her more as a friend. “For helping and for being here.”
She flashes me a genuine smile and nods. “It was my pleasure. In fact, it was the least I could do because I felt like I owed you. You leaving Brussels worked out for me,” she says, glancing at my dad in a way that causes my stomach to turn into an uncomfortable knot.
“Oh God, please say you’re not dating my dad or something!”
Her attitude immediately changes. She tenses up and her face turns red. “Oh my God, no! Nothing like that! I mean, I can see how it would sound like that, but no. I . . . I’m gay, actually.”
A wave of relief surges through me. I can’t imagine finding out about the two of them dating on the day of my wedding with my mother here. That would have been too much.
“Okay, good,” I reply, letting out a sigh of relief. “Does he know that about you?”
Claire nods. “Yes, I figured he’d be okay with it, because of you. So I just told him one day while we were at the shop.”
I nod, because it would have surprised me if my dad had been upset about it. He doesn’t care who’s with whom as long as people stay true to their commitments and work hard. “Is everything still going well at the store?”
“It is. Things are basically just as you left them, but I have more shifts now that you’re away and I can—”
Claire doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Someone behind us, who I don’t see, suddenly shouts, “Claire?! Tu fais quoi ici?”–What are you doing here?
Claire’s eyes widen, and I quickly turn around to see who she’s looking at.
“Mon Dieu, Joyce?!” Claire exclaims.
“What are you doing here?!”
“I work for Luc’s dad. I thought you were in Brussels?”
Joyce points at Cody. “I normally would be, but he’s my friend. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”
Claire’s mouth falls open, and I decide to use their silence to voice the question on my mind.
“You two know each other?” I ask in French.
“Oui,” Claire says softly, looking uncomfortable again. “We uh . . . used to date. A couple of years ago.”
I can’t help but suppress a laugh. “Oh, really? It’s a small world.”
It quickly occurs to me that I’m the only one laughing. Claire and Joyce stare at each other quite uncomfortably, with many things left unsaid.
Cody sees it too, apparently. “Luc, we should get back to the photographer. Claire and your dad should get the cake inside, and . . .” He glances at Joyce, unsure of how to finish that sentence.
Do these exes want to catch up? Avoid each other?
Who knows. “Et cetera,” he eventually says, and decides to leave it up to them.
“Yes,” I reply, agreeing to avoid further awkwardness. “Let’s go find her. She’s probably getting impatient by now.”
With that, Cody and I take our leave, making our way to where we left the photographer. But instead of heading straight back in a rush, he walks slowly. I have no idea why, and it’s making me nervous. We’re losing time, and I don’t know why. “Why are you strolling?” I ask, impatient.
He looks at me, his expression tense. “I know we’re on the clock, but there are some things I should tell you. You deserve to know the entire story before we get married. There are some things you might not like, both about your father and about me.”
I look at him, my unease growing again. What on earth does that mean? Ultimately, I decide to ask him the question that’s been edging its way into my head since I saw my father. “I must say, I have been wondering. Did you know my dad was coming all along?”
He shakes his head, and I feel somewhat relieved. “No, it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I became ninety percent convinced he would deliver, but I wasn’t sure until today when he showed up. It was crazy stressful to be honest. I hated not being able to tell you.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I would have been disappointed if you’d known he was coming for months and didn’t tell me. But then, when did you arrange all this?”
“During one of my business trips.”
My stomach twists, and I think back to what my mother said yesterday . . .
“When a man tells you he’s going on a business trip, pack your bags and get out.”
And now, I can’t prevent another, more nerve-racking thought from occurring to me.
Oh god, Cody’s already lying about what he’s doing on business trips. It’s already starting.
I try to shove the thought down, reminding myself that this is different from what happened to my mother. Cody did this because it was supposed to be a surprise for me. I know that, but no matter how often I tell myself that, the thought refuses to be silenced.
“Cody, I just told you about my parents. My dad lied to my mother about what he did on his business trips.”
Cody tenses up and nods. “Yes, but what I’m about to tell you is nothing like that. You do know that, right?”
“I do, and I trust you. It’s just . . .” I take a moment to gather my thoughts.
I trust Cody; that’s not the problem. But what if these unhelpful thoughts, like the one I just had, become more frequent and I grow paranoid?
“You hid something from me about a business trip. What if I let what my mother said get to me, and I start doubting you?”
His expression is serious when he says, “Then we’ll get through it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because . . .” He swallows hard. “We already dealt with it once. That’s what I wanted to tell you.
A few months ago, when I was with your dad in Brussels, talking to him about the wedding, he said .
. .” Cody pauses again, telling me without words that this is something difficult to say.
“He said we entered this relationship at different levels, that you never stay interested in anything for long, and that I’m basically saving you from failure.
And I know it isn’t fair to you, that he had no right to say that, but he somehow had me worrying that maybe this marriage was something you did out of .
. . convenience or something. That I would end up getting hurt again.
And that’s when we had that fight. Remember? ”
That fight, he said. I don’t immediately understand, but when I do, my eyes widen.
“Wait, you mean our first fight?”
“Yes.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “That’s what it was? You distrusted me because of something my dad said?!”
“Yes, and it was stupid. I should never have let it get to me, and I hate myself for it. I wanted to tell you earlier, but it would have ruined the surprise. So I’m telling you now, before the wedding. That way, you can decide if you still want to marry me, and if so, if you want your dad here.”
I blink slowly, unsure of how I feel about it. “Why did you hide it from me?” I ask, even though I think I know the answer.
“I didn’t want to,” Cody says, looking miserable. “But I wanted the cake to be a surprise. I wanted to make you happy and . . . things got away from me.” He pauses, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I should have just told you, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes.”
The regret shows on his face. “I’m so sorry, baby. “I never meant to lie about anything. I just wanted to give you something I thought you wanted: your dad at your wedding, showing you he approves of you and our relationship. Which he does; I know he does. It just took him some time.”
“Didn’t you just say he called me a failure you’re saving?”
“Yes, but . . .” Cody looks more miserable with every second. “I think you proved him wrong in the meantime.”
I let out a deep sigh and think things through.
I must say it helps that my dad just said he’s proud of me and seemed sincere.
And the truth is . . . I loved the surprise.
I also adore Cody, and I need him in my life.
I want to get married to him, and I want my dad here for it.
That hasn’t changed. I want to have a nice, drama-free wedding day.
That hasn’t gone great so far, but it’s only just started. Maybe we can still turn it around.
“What do you want to do?” Cody asks after I’ve been silent for almost a minute.
I take a step toward him, making up my mind. “I want us to get married. And I want to be happy, and I need you for that. But maybe no more surprises for the upcoming time, okay? I’ve had my share of those.”
“Of course, baby,” Cody says, looking relieved.
“I want that too. No more surprises, and no one will come between us. Not your parents . . . or my brother. None of it matters; not what your father did, not what Brian thinks, not what your mother said, because we’re still getting married.
And now we can finally leave all that stuff behind us and focus on what we know about each other. Because no one gets us like we do.”
That’s undoubtedly true, and those words help relax me. I don’t know what it is—my love for him, the fantastic day we have planned, or just how good he is at calming me down—but I want to focus on what’s ahead.
And I do exactly that.
“Yes,” I reply. “That’s what it’ll be from now on: just us.”
He nods. “Just us.”
He grabs my hand, and we continue walking to where we left the photographer. She’s still there, impatiently waiting and pacing, eager to continue her work.
We spend the next hour or so taking more pictures, this time with our families.
When my father appears, I feel a wave of disappointment rush through me, but I manage to press it down by picturing my wedding cake and reminding myself of his words: I’m proud of you, son.
Ultimately, that’s what matters, not something he said months ago when he was questioning my relationship.
While taking pictures, the photographer proves again that she’ll take no nonsense when my mother and father tell her they don’t want to be in the picture together.
“This isn’t about you,” she tells them in French, her tone cold. “The couple wants you in the picture, so get in the picture.”
That made me laugh, which I tried to hide from my parents.
Reluctantly, they did as they were told and deliberately stood on opposite sides of the frame.
I’ll accept it. At least they’re not shouting at each other as I feared they would.
And now, with the guests present and a beautiful wedding cake delivered to our location, it’s time for the next part of the celebration.
Everything’s taken care of, and it feels like I can finally enjoy the most important part of today: the ceremony.