Chapter twenty three
Present Day
The cocktail hour was held outside the reception venue, where white-clothed tables held trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes that caught the afternoon sun like tiny prisms.
The guests mingled in clusters, their laughter floating on the warm breeze.
The photographer corralled the wedding party for photos—traditional lineups, candid groupings, the bride and groom backlit by golden hour light.
I stood where I was told, smiled when instructed, moved through the choreography with practiced ease.
In one shot, Theo’s hand rested on my shoulder.
In another, we stood side by side, a careful six inches of air between us.
The photographer kept saying things like “Beautiful!”
and “Perfect!” and I wanted to laugh at the irony.
When we were finally released, I grabbed a champagne flute and downed it faster than was probably appropriate for a maid of honor. The bubbles burned my throat. I grabbed another.
“Easy there,” Rachel appeared at my elbow, her own glass half-full. “Long night ahead.”
“Just taking the edge off,” I said, forcing a smile.
She followed my gaze to where Theo stood with a group of groomsmen, beer in hand, laughing at something Jasper’s brother said. He looked relaxed. Happy, even.
I couldn’t look at him anymore without it hurting me from the inside out. Like a festering wound that was beyond repair. My heart was fatally broken.
I excused myself from the screeds of people and walked into Sloan’s bridal tent. She had her lipstick touched up while Kay fussed with her veil. She saw me in the mirror and her whole face lit up.
“Gin! Isn’t this the most perfect day?”
“It really is,” I said, and meant it. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Williams?”
She tested the name, her eyes going shiny. “Mrs. Williams. Oh my god, that’s me.”
Kay was crying again. I handed her a tissue, then another. We had a brief, tearful three-way hug before the wedding coordinator poked her head in.
“Five minutes until the grand entrance!”
The reception was at the country club that the Bennetts had long been members of. They had a beautiful location for weddings too, but it was booked years in advance.
I took my place in the lineup outside the doors. The wedding party would be announced in pairs, walking in to cheers before Sloane and Jasper made their grand entrance as husband and wife.
Theo appeared at my side, offering his arm without a word. I took it. The wedding coordinator called each member of the wedding party, two by two until they got to us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the maid of honor, Imogen Grey, and the best man, Theo Bennett!”
We walked in to applause and cheering. At our table—the head table, right next to where Sloane and Jasper would sit—I finally released his arm.Then, finally: “For the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Williams!”
The room erupted. Sloane and Jasper entered to thunderous applause, both of them beaming, hands raised in victory. They kissed, they danced, they glowed. It was magic.
Dinner was served—a plated meal of salmon or chicken, roasted vegetables, and a summer salad.
I sat between Sam and one of the groomsmen, Brad - the same Brad from the lake years prior.
Age had mellowed him - as far as I could tell.
Theo was four seats down, far enough that I didn’t have to talk to him but close enough that I was hyper-aware of his every movement.
I pushed food around my plate, took small bites, drank more wine than I ate.
Conversations happened around me—funny stories about Sloane and Jasper, college memories, speculation about the honeymoon.
I laughed at appropriate moments, contributed when directly addressed, otherwise faded into the background.
Between courses, people came up to congratulate the bride and groom. I watched Theo get up and hug his sister, saw them talking quietly, her hand on his arm. She was looking at him with concern. He shook his head, smiled, said something that made her laugh.
Then her eyes found mine across the table. She mouthed: You okay?
I nodded, raised my wine glass slightly. Fine.
She didn’t look convinced.
The DJ announced the first dance. Sloane and Jasper took the floor to a sweet, acoustic version of “The Way You Look Tonight.” They swayed together, foreheads touching, completely lost in each other. Kay was crying again. Steve had his arm around her. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
It was everything I’d thought I might have, for about twenty-four hours.
When the song ended, the DJ invited the wedding party to join them. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen, please join the happy couple on the dance floor!”
Theo appeared in front of me, hand extended. Not looking at me, just—there.
I took his hand.
We walked to the floor. His other hand found my waist. Mine went to his shoulder. We’d done this before. At the dance lesson. We’d ended up dancing fine. We knew the steps.
The music started—something slow and romantic that I didn’t recognize. We began to move.
His hand was warm on my waist. I could smell his cologne—the same one from the lake, from the hotel room, from every moment this week that I was trying to forget. Being this close to him was physically painful, like my body was rejecting the distance my mind was trying to create.
“Imogen—” he started.
Just like at the reception, my heel caught on something—a seam in the dance floor, my own foot, the weight of the week. I stumbled, my ankle twisting. His grip on me tightened immediately, catching me before I could fall.
We froze. His hands were on my waist, holding me steady. My hands gripped his shoulders. Our faces were inches apart.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Yeah. Sorry. I—”
I tried to step back, but my ankle protested. I winced.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, I’m fine. Just—” I pulled away from him, testing my weight. It was sore but manageable. “I’m fine.”
“Gin—”
“I need some air.”
I left the dance floor, weaving through the other couples. Behind me, I heard Theo say something to someone—probably explaining. I didn’t look back.
Once I was outside, in the fairy light lit garden I kicked my heels off and sat on a bench seat. I didn’t want to ruin Sloane’s wedding with my down in the dumps mood. So I gave myself five minutes to perk up before going back in for the toasts.
I slipped into my seat just as the speeches started.
Both parents of the bride and groom spoke. Then Theo, who basically reiterated what he’d said at the rehearsal. Then it was my turn.
I’d written my speech weeks before. But now, as I gazed over my words on the cue cards as I’d written them I realized what I’d written was surface level. I could do better. I placed the cards down and took the microphone from Theo, our hands brushing ever so slightly.
“Hi, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Imogen, the proud and slightly emotional maid of honor. Sloane, you look… absolutely insane. Stop it. Jasper, you clean up alright too.
I wrote my speech weeks ago, and god I poured over it.
I stared at blank pages, which - just so you know - is a professional hazard for me, but also a personal one when trying to sum up what Sloane Bennett—sorry, Sloane WIlliams—means to me.
How do you explain your own personal sun?
The human embodiment of a pep rally? My favorite chaos agent?
I met Sloane in 6th Grade when she helped me steal a gel pen from the class prize cupboard. She said, ‘Friendship is about shared crimes.’ I was a nervous kid who followed the rules. She saw that, and decided the best thing for me was a little anarchy. She’s been my partner in crime ever since.
And then Jasper showed up one summer when we were camping, and instead of stealing her from me - I watched this boy, with his quiet smiles and his steady hands, somehow keep up with her whirlwind.
He didn’t try to calm the storm. He learned the steps to the dance.
He’d show up with two sandwiches because he knew she’d forget lunch.
He’d listen to her rant about… everything, for hours, and then just say, ‘Okay, so what are we gonna do about it?’
I’ve seen their love story from the front row.
It wasn’t just grand gestures—though there were some good ones.
It was the thousands of tiny choices. Choosing to listen after a bad day.
Choosing to show up, even when it was inconvenient.
Choosing to say ‘you’re right’ instead of ‘I told you so.’
Choosing, every single day, to love each other not just in spite of their flaws, but sometimes because of them.
Jasper, you love her stubbornness. Sloane, you love his terrible puns. It’s disgusting, honestly.
They built something real. Not a fairytale castle, but a fortress. With a really great snack cupboard and a solid foundation.
And watching them…” I stopped and looked at Theo, as much as it hurt in my chest.
“…it taught me what love actually looks like.
It’s not just the dizzy, heart-fluttering feeling.
That’s the easy part. It’s the brick-by-brick, day-by-day work of building a life with your best friend.
It’s looking at the ocean of possibilities and saying, ’No, I want the view from this dock, with you.’
So my wish for you both isn’t just a lifetime of happiness.
Happiness can be fleeting. My wish is for you to have a lifetime of choosing.
Choose each other on the easy days and the hard ones.
Choose laughter. Choose patience. Choose to fight fair, and then choose to order pizza and make up.
Keep choosing your shared, beautiful, chaotic crime of a life together.
Please raise your glasses with me.
To Sloane and Jasper. May your love remain the strongest, loudest, most wonderful thing in any room. And may you never, ever run out of snacks… or reasons to choose each other. Cheers.”
The room broke into applause and everyone drank. Sloane stood up and pulled me into a tight hug. “God I love you so much.”
“Love you too.”
Then the party started. The drinks were flowing, everyone was dancing and having fun. I made sure to look like I was having a good time every time Sloane looked my way, but eventually I just slipped outside again so I didn’t have to pretend. I sat on the bench seat again, with my back to the hedge.