21. Sadie
21
SADIE
M y sense of time is off. I feel like I’ve been trapped in wedding purgatory for six years even though it’s only been two hours.
I’d describe my approach to maid of honor duties as minimalist. Whenever Hadley bellows that I need to fix the train of her dress or adjust her diamond tiara I pretend as if my ears don’t work. If she’s not happy with me, so be it. I’m not too happy with her either.
Cale sure wouldn’t put up with this nonsense. Earlier, when he suggested leaving early, I was severely tempted to take him up on the offer. An evening with Cale beats watching the clock and avoiding unpleasant people.
If I’m being honest, an evening with Cale would beat just about any alternative. When I think about being alone with him, my cheeks feel so hot I want to rub some of the ice from my water glass on my face.
Hadley coasts off the dance floor and pulls on my arm. “Scraps, I have to pee.”
“Have fun,” I say.
She exhales noisily. “I need you and Shayna to hold my dress up. Let’s go.”
I chew on a lettuce leaf, the last remnant of my salad. “Sorry, I can’t right now. But I have faith in Shayna to handle pee duty on her own.”
Hadley tries switching to sulky mode. “I don’t know why I thought I could depend on you.”
“I don’t know why either. But be sure to keep my flaws in mind the next time you have a wedding.”
Judging by my sister’s expression, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind slapping me in front of all three hundred guests. At least she has the sense not to risk the social media infamy. She gives me the evil eye and struts off to the bathroom with hapless bridesmaid Shayna in tow.
The lettuce goes down with a sour aftertaste. I chase it with some lemon water and search the room for Cale. I’m certain he’d give me a high five for refusing to act as Hadley’s bathroom handmaiden but he seems to have disappeared for now. Whoever was in charge of the guest place settings has a sense of humor and placed him at a table full of the groom’s teenage cousins. I can’t blame Cale if he’s wandered off because he’s bored. I’m kind of bored too.
Moreover, I feel rather conspicuous perched up here at the head table while watching guests spasm out on the dance floor. The white-jacketed staff is collecting all the plates with dinner leftovers, which is a good sign that this phase of the reception is over, bringing the event one step closer to conclusion. All that’s left is the cake cutting and maybe another hour of celebrating before Hadley makes her grand exit.
Then I’ll be free.
I’m hoping Cale will still want to hang out later. Last night my mind kept replaying our goodbye kiss until I feel asleep. Then I dreamed of him. In my dreams there was no audience watching us kiss. There were also no clothes involved. I woke up gasping. I stared at the dark ceiling as I waited for my heart to quit pounding and wished that I’d packed my trustiest vibrator so I could take care of business.
Frankly, I’d rather be Hadley’s chamber maid for a week than admit to Cale that he has the honor of being my primary self-pleasure fodder. I tell myself there’s no harm in hot secret fantasies. Besides, if I’m going to fantasize about anyone then that person ought to be my husband. Cale would probably be amused by the confession.
Or Cale might not be amused at all. That dangerous spark might return to his eyes and then he might seize me in his arms, demand my mouth, invade with his tongue, and grind his hips to show off just how badly he wants the same thing. He might push this ugly dress up to my waist, shove my damp panties down with impatience and use his strong fingers to tease and torment while I tremble and gasp. Then he might smirk with satisfaction and say that all I need to do is prove I can TAKE IT ALL LIKE A GOOD GIRL before he gives me…
“Sadie, can we talk?”
NOOOOOOO!!!!
EWWWWW!!!!
It’s always a bummer to have your steamy sex daydream interrupted.
It’s downright revolting to be on the verge of a fictional orgasm when your disgusting ex decides to plop down in the seat beside you.
I’m forced to banish the delicious mental image of Cale about to drop his pants in order to confront the pompous, sweaty face of Grant Gallant.
“I’m way too busy,” I say.
Grant makes himself comfortable anyway. “I figured this would be a good time for us to clear the air.”
“Well, it’s not. I’m the maid of honor so I have better things to do than clear your air.”
“You don’t have to behave like a child.”
“If I wanted to behave like a child then I’d dump my ice water in your lap and tell everyone you’ve wet your pants.”
“Sadie,” he says in a tone that implies he’s a man of infinite patience. “Our families are close. This feud between us has gone on long enough. I understand you’ve had your own issues to sort out and I’m not angry anymore.”
I look at him, really look at him, this man who was my only serious long term boyfriend. The man I thought I’d marry.
Most people would say Grant is handsome and they’d be right. He claims people compare him to a young Bradley Cooper and I think that’s a stretch but if you squint and don’t examine too closely, the resemblance is there.
“Fuck off,” I say.
I can’t recall the last time I used profanity. Amazing how the words just naturally roll off my tongue. Downright liberating. Cale definitely has the right idea. In some situations, cursing is the best response.
Grant’s eyes narrow. His nostrils flare. He’s tried the diplomatic approach. Now he’s angry that his efforts were wasted. Perhaps I should give him the middle finger to cap off the encounter.
Instead of taking a cue to leave, Grant leans back in his chair. The pause in our conversation is filled with guests on the dance floor singing along to a Beyonce tune.
Grant’s eyes scroll to the ring on my left hand and he purses his smug mouth. “By the way, where did that husband of yours go? Looks like he can’t even stand to keep you company for a few hours.”
“Weak. You should really work on upgrading your insult skills. Cale just stepped out for a minute.”
“He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“That’s because you never knew my type. Anyway, I remember hearing that you’ll soon have a wife of your own to fret over. You’d best go snap the leash on before she wises up and runs for the hills.”
“You should be careful,” Grant says.
“Of Cale? Please, I don’t care what you’ve heard. Cale is a teddy bear and we’re very happy together.”
“You should be careful,” Grant repeats.
Then he smiles the kind of pointy, evil grin that isn’t often seen outside of comic books.
My breath catches. I’ve worked hard to block out the shame but now it’s back. His threat is clear and he might be foolish enough to carry it out.
“Go to hell,” I whisper and stand up so suddenly that I end up knocking my water glass into Grant’s lap anyway. Score!
But when I try to flee there’s a broad chest in my way. Cale steadies me and takes a good look at my face. Anger flares in his green eyes. He turns his attention to Grant, who is too busy mopping up his pants with a napkin to realize he’s just incurred the wrath of Cale Connelly.
Cale doesn’t even know what just happened. I’ve said almost nothing to him about my relationship with Grant. He simply sees I’m upset and that’s enough for him to be furious.
Now in full protective mode, Cale cradles me to his side and waits for Grant to finish wiping his crotch. Cale’s rage is almost palpable and if anyone other than Grant was on the receiving end, I might feel sorry for him.
Finally, Grant throws the wet napkin aside and looks up.
I’ve never actually seen the blood drain from someone’s face. This is a first.
“We’ve never actually met,” Cale says. “I’m Cale Connelly.”
Grant’s Adam’s apple bobs. “I’ve heard your name.”
Cale nods. “Yeah, I’ll bet you have. And you’ll want to remember exactly what you’ve heard the next time you decide to bother my wife.”
Grant lets out a weak croak, then recovers and clears his throat. “It’s just that Sadie and I go way back and I wanted to say hello.”
“Now you’ve said it. So get your soggy dick up out of that chair and get the fuck out of my sight before I get annoyed.”
Grant doesn’t exactly jump. But he also doesn’t waste any time scrambling out of his seat and hurrying in the opposite direction without looking back.
I tip my head back to look up at Cale. “You’re so cute when you’re being scary.”
His face relaxes and his right eyebrow peaks with good humor. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” Then a shadow falls over his face. “You’ll never have any reason to be afraid of me. You know that, right?”
“I do know that. But I’ll be more convinced if you dance with me,” I say, and try to pull him towards the dance floor.
He hangs back. “Hold on, give it a minute.”
“Why? And where did you go anyway? From what I could see you didn’t even touch your food.”
“Wasn’t hungry. I had to make some calls.”
“Something important?”
“It’s work,” he says, evasive as usual. “Plus I needed to pay a bribe.”
“A bribe to who?”
He grins. Cocks his head to the side. Within seconds I hear it. The opening notes of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart. The bribe was obviously to the wedding DJ.
This man, I swear. He gets me.
Letting out a squeal of delight, I throw my arms around him. “You’re wonderful.”
Then I start dragging him to the dance floor because we’re missing the song and Cale Connelly is dancing with me whether he feels like it or not.
Encircled by candlelit dining tables, the temporary dance floor is huge. The twinkling light strings crisscrossing overhead add a magical quality. Hadley’s typical taste is brash and glitzy so the classiness is a pleasant surprise. Maybe this is her new husband’s influence. I see him now, laughing and mingling with a group of guests. Griffin seems like a nice guy, perhaps a little dim. It would make sense if he had a few connections loose in his head. After all, he chose my sister.
Anyway, right now I want to forget where I am and enjoy who I’m with. The song has an upbeat tempo. When I’m at home with the music playing in the background, I’ll always jump into motion and dance with abandon.
However, Cale isn’t the ‘dance with abandon’ type. He’s being an absolute prince tonight and I’d rather not chase him off by lurching around like a chicken. Besides, I’m already on sensory overload. A fleeting second of dizziness leaves me clutching Cale’s arm. It fades, but the sour aftertaste hasn’t left my mouth. I blame the unpleasant run in with Grant for the fact that I suddenly feel exhausted.
When I wrap my arms around Cale, I’m not just trying to stay awake. The thrill of being close to him is real. With my cheek pressed to his chest and the thud of his heartbeat in my ear, I can think of nowhere else I’d rather be. I can forget the stickiness of our marriage arrangement, our web of lies and the uncertain future. I can just enjoy being in his arms.
Cale holds me close, his chin resting on top of my head, one hand slowly rubbing my back.
We’re not even dancing. We’re barely swaying.
If he makes the offer to escape again, I’ll accept. I’ve never been to his apartment in the city and I suddenly, desperately, need to see for myself where he lives. Does he have any pictures on the walls? What color are his bedsheets?
These are important questions.
If I were his real wife, I’d know all the answers. I’m oddly jealous of the wife I pretend to be, the one who Luca Connelly thinks was holding his brother’s hand last night at Richie Amato’s table. I know the fake wife is me and I’m jealous of her anyway.
This train of thought makes little sense. In my defense, it is really hot in here.
Despite the fresh sea breezes circulating through the open tent, I’m feeling flushed and sweaty. Being touched by Cale does things to me, very physical things. Yet those things don’t usually include queasiness.
“EX-CUSE MEEEE!”
Hadley’s hyena voice has the nerve to cut off both Elton John’s voice and my moment of bliss with Cale. She stands in front of the head table with a microphone, waving a skinny arm in the air. “I need your attention for a moment.”
She spots me with Cale. She smiles. I have a bad feeling about this.
Hadley stops waving her arm in the air. “Most of you already know this but the maid of honor is also my little sister. Scraps, come on up and give your speech now.”
My…speech?
Nobody mentioned that I’d be making a speech. Or maybe they did and I forgot. Everything is a little fuzzy at the moment, as if I’m watching events unfold in a dream. My legs feel wobbly and I swallow hard to evict the bile in my mouth. The only part of this scene that isn’t positively awful is the comfort of Cale’s arm holding me up.
Maybe I should implore Cale to make the speech for me. If he’d rather not, I’ll ask for volunteers from the crowd.
But before I can beg Cale to do something drastic, like kidnap me, Hadley marches through the crowd and seizes my wrist. I’m dragged along after her like a limp blanket and I look over my shoulder in search of Cale but the horde of people awaiting a speech are in the way. Grant’s odious pinched face is among them and I’m forced to stifle a very real gag.
Hadley presses the microphone into my hand. I’m not a shy person. Under normal conditions I could manage to cough up a few positive (and therefore totally dishonest) words about my sister. However, my legs are leaden and my guts are churning and I really need to sit down.
It finally dawns on me that what I really need is a toilet. This speech will be short. Very short.
Sadly, my sister is not an understanding person. When I hesitate for too long because I’m trying to figure out how to talk without vomiting, she grabs my shoulders and hisses, “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Probably true. And I’m about to do a whole lot worse.
Hadley’s monster breath and a closeup of her enraged face might have been the last straw that pushed my struggling stomach over the edge.
We’ll never know.
Just like we’ll never know if Hadley’s grip on my arms was the factor that made it impossible for me to break away and reach the restroom in time.
What happens next is one of those incidents that gets recounted ten million times in random conversation snippets and everyone claims to know someone’s sister or cousin who was actually there.
I try to twist away from Hadley.
She’s stronger than she looks.
I toss the microphone away in the hopes she’ll chase it.
She doesn’t.
My last option is to scream in her face that she needs to let go or I’ll puke.
This doesn’t work out the way it’s supposed to.
Instead of a scream, what comes out of my mouth is a projectile blizzard of undigested salad greens, vinaigrette and seasoned croutons. Hadley takes the brunt of the blitz, which hits her in the chest and splashes down the front of her dress.
She stands there in frozen shock for a horrifying heartbeat. Then comes the screeching. “SCRAAAAAAAPS!”
Though Hadley has released her hold on my arms, it’s not soon enough. A second round of vomit is on the way. This time the dance floor takes a direct hit.
A woman shouts that her shoes were splattered. Someone screams. A man’s high, maniacal laughter sounds suspiciously like it belongs to Grant.
When I look up, the first person I see is Baylor. He’s standing next to our father. Their expressions are priceless.
Hadley continues to scream like she’s being stabbed to death. A flock of peach-clad bridesmaids surround her in a panic. Some of them are crying.
The groom comes running and skids on a puddle of my vomit. He stumbles right into my father and Baylor. The three of them go down like bowling pins.
Arlena wanders into view with a large silver ice bucket. She throws the contents on Hadley, solving nothing. And now there’s an obstacle course of ice shards all over the floor. A woman in a blue dress slips and falls and begins shouting about her bad hip.
All of this takes no more than twenty seconds to transpire and yet seems to happen in extended slow motion. Just when I think this particular circle of hell must be nearing completion, a new layer is unleashed.
Baylor pops up from the pile of bodies on the floor. He helps my father to his feet. Baylor’s wife, Talia, hurries over. Then she stops and covers her mouth. Her body convulses as she gags. Baylor reaches for his wife and she heaves again. This time a tidal wave of vomit lands on his tuxedo.
Bridesmaid Shayna starts running for the restroom with her hand over her mouth. Hadley shoves her attendants aside and follows. She overtakes Shayna, pushes her out of the way, and then trips over a chair. Hadley is still sprawled on the ground when Shayna gags twice and then pukes on Hadley’s head.
Elsewhere in the reception, bedlam erupts. A desperate rush to reach the restrooms has created mass panic. Apparently I’ve created a chain reaction. Someone ought to study such a phenomenon.
But it’s too soon for me to feel guilty. Especially because I don’t believe I’m finished puking.
Fortunately, I don’t need to stand around and wonder what to do next because a pair of mighty arms lifts me into the air with ease.
“Hold on, honey,” Cale says. “I’m getting you out of here.”
I don’t have the strength to object. Later there will be plenty of time to dwell on this humiliation but for now I’m just grateful that at least one person still likes me.
Clinging to Cale’s neck, I look at no one as he begins wading through the reception nightmare. Under different conditions I’d be melting over the romance of being carried by Cale.
“Use this if you have to,” he says as he hands me a silver ice bucket that looks exactly like the one my stepmother dumped on Hadley.
“I’ll try not to throw up on you,” I say to him.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not squeamish.”
We’ve escaped the disaster inside the reception tent. The cool seaside night air feels much better but my stomach still pitches with an ominous gurgle.
I think I’ll be needing that bucket real soon.