Chapter 30 #2
She digs through her clutch and offers me her room key. “Ceremony starts in twenty minutes. Go upstairs, cry, breathe, do whatever you need to do. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
I couldn’t tell you what song was playing when Drew and Reagan were pronounced man and wife.
I couldn’t tell you what Connor said in his best man speech or what I ate for dinner or what flavor the cake was.
I’ve plastered on so many fake smiles, I couldn’t begin to count them .
What I can tell you is how many times I’ve left Mom’s side: zero.
How many times my traitorous eyes drifted to the head table where Alexis’ hands were all over Connor in one obscene way or another: seventeen.
How many votive candles are on this table: six.
I can say with confidence that a three-hundred guest wedding reception makes it easy to hide, but it doesn’t make it any easier to breathe.
It’s not all terrible—there are glimpses of fun, like polaroids capturing moments in time.
Drew and I dancing wildly to Walk on the Moon’s “Shut Up and Dance” like we did when we were kids.
Dad spinning me on the dance floor to “My Girl” right after the cake was cut.
Taking a turn in the photo booth with my grandparents.
I’m in a mad dash to my mom on my way back from the bathroom, when Mav steps into my path. “Hey, Mav. You having fun?” My smile is forced but he doesn’t notice for how loud I have to speak to be heard over the music.
He leans in close, nearly shouting, “Obviously, my little Drew got married! What I would love, though, is if you would dance with me.”
He pulls back, rueful grin on display, as the song changes to something slow and soft. I arch a brow. “Did you plan that?”
I see the appeal in the boyish smile that spreads over his face—Mav isn’t bad to look at. He’s loud, boisterous, a total goofball, and so not my type, but I recognize that irresistible charm thing he has going for him.
He smirks. “I really wish I could take credit for that, but no.” He holds out a hand. “What do you say?”
My eyes bounce from his hand to his face. I see no harm in dancing with the guy, but it’s fun to make him squirm a bit.
Before I can accept his invitation, another hand swoops in and grabs mine. “She’s not dancing with you, Mav,” Connor declares as he lugs me toward the dance floor. Mav’s laughter fades into the distance behind me.
Connor brings us to the edge of the dance floor and tucks me in close with a broad hand wrapped around my waist, braced on the bare skin of my back. Our clasped hands elevated between us, I bring my other hand to rest on his shoulder.
“That was kind of rude,” I say as we begin to shift from side to side.
“You’re not dancing with him and I need to talk to you.”
I meet his stare. “Where’s your date, Connor?”
“In the bathroom.”
I release a tight breath through my nose. “Fine. You’ve trapped me, so talk.”
He looks around for a beat before his eyes land back on me. “First of all, you look beautiful tonight and I’ve wanted to tell you since I saw you this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” I want to return the compliment because he’s practically edible in his tuxedo…and because I love him. But I can’t voice any of that.
There’s a painful silence before he says, “I never should have asked her to come.”
“It’s not just?—”
“I never should have asked anybody else,” he amends. “It was a mistake and I’m sorry.”
I want to ask why he did it because I don’t believe for a second that he sat next to me at dinner last night, said the things he said, touched me the way he did, with plans of being here tonight with somebody else.
“Will you tell me what happened between you guys?” he asks. My eyes scan vacantly over his shoulder. “Please? I need to know. Is she the one you told me about? The one that hurt you?”
My heart wants so badly to melt into him and, for a moment, my body does just that. The hand on my back shifts, caressing, as I lean in, a plea for me to not pull away. But I’m not his date tonight. I shake my head, squaring my shoulders to put more distance between our chests.
“She, um…she was my best friend. Or I thought she was. A few months before graduation I found out she hooked up with a guy I’d be en seeing. Come to find out, it wasn’t the first time she’d done something like that behind my back.”
I shrug as if that suffices for all the tears I shed over the rumors, the gossip.
“After it all went down, I also found out that everybody in our friend group knew the whole time.” My gaze finds his, his expression full of compassion and I’m listening— it’s the only reason I’m able to keep talking.
“I thought those people were my friends, but they didn’t even care enough about me to tell me what was going on.
I don’t know, it made me feel really stupid because I…
I let her in, you know?” I scrunch my nose to push back the emotion stinging my eyes.
“You’re not stupid and I know how hard it is to let somebody in.” He squeezes my hand a little tighter. “I’m sorry she did that to you.”
We sway in silence for a moment, my forehead desperate to fall against his chest as the song comes into focus—“About You” by The 1975. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget him, to move on from him. All this time and he was never mine at all. And I already miss him.
I’m not sure I want to know anymore why he brought her here tonight. The answer will break me, I’m sure of it. It’s obvious I’ve completely misread…everything.
“You know, I won’t interfere, if you, um…” My God, I can’t make myself say the words. “Grudges aren’t healthy anyway, right?”
His hand tenses over my lower spine. “What are you trying to say, Gretch?”
“I’m saying I’ll set aside my feelings about her,” and you , “if you really like her.”
I’ll pretend the last year never happened .
Our eyes lock for a split second, his wide and searching, mine tired—so, so tired.
“Gretch, I?—”
“Can I cut in?” Alexis’ voice interrupts like the blunt end of a gavel—no clean break, just relentless pounding until whatever tether was there before is successfully crushed into oblivion. The moment is over.
We are over.
I step out of his arms and walk away.
I don’t look back as I swipe my clutch from my seat and a champagne flute off a passing butler tray. Without slowing my stride, I down the champagne in one gulp, drop the empty glass on a nearby table and flee the scene.
The ballroom doors click shut behind me and the music simmers to a dull thud pulsing through the wall. I release a breath from so deep in my lungs it feels like I’ve been holding it for a lifetime. Or, at least for the past twelve months, two weeks and four days.