Chapter 31
Ani
Raffi strode through the sea of guests, heading straight to her.
She was shaking, she realized. His speech, his public declaration of her capabilities and his belief in her—it meant so, so much. The validation she never knew she needed.
And the wedding had gone well. Better than she could have expected.
At this point, it was nearly over, all the difficult parts were done, and there was almost nothing left for her to do that was crucial.
She should feel relieved, and part of her did, but another part felt crushed.
Still wounded from the article, from the aftermath she’d already felt today at this wedding.
Raffi was in front of her, a vision, so tall in the sexiest suit she’d seen him don yet. The tie had a subtle abstract design that made her think of legs slipping through silk sheets. He smelled of desert winds. He looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.
The music was a slow Armenian song, and the whole scene was so similar to their first kiss.
She couldn’t resist. She was scared—scared of what she wanted to say to him—but she couldn’t keep from touching him, having him hold her close.
They weren’t supposed to make their relationship public until after the wedding, but it was just a few hours until it was technically “after the wedding.” So why not?
But when she placed her hand in his, he walked her away from the dance floor, away from the wedding itself, around the corner to a quiet side of the villa. They stood on a small trail, with a soft light above them and endless vineyards on all other sides. They were alone.
Raffi wrapped his arm around her waist, and she curled into him, feeling the familiar sensation of being calmed, protected. But then little alarm bells flared inside her, telling her that her sense of peace was false, that she should still be anxious and worried.
“Raffi,” she said into his shirt, into his strong chest. “Thank you for that speech. For saying those words in front of everyone.”
He ran his hand up her back, into her hair, stroking it down toward her shoulders. “I meant every word. I had to hold back, actually. Made sure I mentioned the actual brides instead of gush about you the entire time.”
She chuckled, but mostly relished the feel of his hand against her. Her entire body prickled at his touch.
“What did you mean this morning?” he whispered. “When you said you needed time to think?”
He sounded nervous. She felt for him. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“Just that—” she started, but she couldn’t finish.
Two worlds warred within her, one shouting, “What are you doing? Everything is perfect! Don’t ruin this!
” and the other shouting that mantra she’d heard in her head since she could remember, the one that had quieted lately with Raffi, but the one this morning’s article had brought back, surging strong as a monster of the deep: “You’re not good enough. ”
“I’m not sure you should be with someone like me.”
Raffi stopped dancing but still held her while he stared at her. “What?”
“You read that article. It was true, all true.”
“We all make mistakes, it’s just—”
“This was too big. Too stupid. Too careless. I want to be with you, I do. I’m just mortified. Next thing everyone’s going to think is that I’m some gold digger, being with you.”
“Who would…” But then he trailed off, having realized the answer. He continued, less sure of himself, “I mean—people do often talk about that stuff, but they’re wrong. You know I’d set straight anyone who said that.”
Ani leaned against the warmth of his chest, savored it.
This might be the last time she felt it against her cheek.
“Do you know,” she asked, “three separate people came up to me today? Distant family friends, people I know on the periphery. They came up to me and asked if I needed financial help. Three totally unrelated people.”
Raffi muttered under his breath, “Fuck.” Then, he stammered, “I thought I—I saw an older couple talking to you. Saw the way your face fell. That’s just—they were just trying to—”
She said it then, with conviction. “I’m not good enough. Just admit it.”
He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I never will. That’s bullshit, Ani. Somewhere in there, you know it.”
She didn’t say anything, too sad to reply, not sure if she believed him or not.
He asked, “Who did this to you? Who convinced you that you were less than? Was it that fucking high school dance?”
That was an easy yet monumental question. “No, no, it wasn’t just that. It’s…been everything.”
“Tell me.”
Ani pulled herself out of his arms. She didn’t want to be held or comforted while she shared this.
“Everyone, since I was little. Talar was the cute sister, the pretty sister, the smart sister. I was forgotten. My parents didn’t really see me, even though they’re great, I know.
But it always seemed like they were more into each other than being parents.
They never paid attention to the things that really mattered to me.
So between that and mediocre grades, middle-school bullies, that fucking dance.
Being a shitty paralegal. Being a wedding planner for modest clients, having that in print now.
A lackluster love life until Kami, then being dumped by Kami.
I mean, I’m over it now, but—I don’t know. All of it. Years and years and years.”
Raffi stared at her, and she thought he might have tears in his eyes. They shone in a way she’d never seen before.
She continued, “And I feel so stupid saying any of this to you—you, who’s had actual tragedy. You, who despite all that, have come so far.”
“Have I, though?” Raffi asked.
“What? Of course you have. Listen, Raffi, I, I—”
She was about to say it, make the break, when Raffi interrupted her.
His voice, while steady, had a sharp edge to it, just barely there.
“Ani, if you leave me now, I’m not sure my heart can take it.
Do what you want, what you think is right, but I’m fragile when it comes to you.
” He took a step closer, his hands flexing at his sides as if he wanted to reach for her but didn’t dare.
“If you leave me now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to come back. ”
She stared at him, angry. That was not what she wanted to hear, to be guilted into being with him.
“I don’t want you to be with me just because of some default. Because you’re too afraid to be away from me. I want you because you want me.”
But before he could respond, there was a rustle in the bushes.
An animal? Or worse, a reporter? Then a bright flash blinded her, followed by the sound of a shutter.
She spun around, arms instinctively crossing over her face as if she could somehow shield herself from the already-taken photograph.
This was all she needed, to be splashed across the Daily Mail yet again, her face plastered beneath some lurid headline, this time painted as a strumpet, a drama-causer, a woman caught in another mess of her own making.
Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out logic, drowning out everything.
She couldn’t do it. She had to leave.
“Raffi, I’m sorry,” she said and broke away to rejoin the wedding, forcing herself to avoid Raffi’s presence and act like nothing was wrong. She could not wait until this wedding—the one she’d been anticipating for more than half a year—was finally over.