Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Pippa
It is the day of the Hawthorn wedding, and I am a mixture of excitement and nervous energy as Rhett’s chauffeur drives us to the venue.
The Hawthorns’ Hamptons estate is only a short drive away.
We could have walked if we wanted to. It looks like something out of a dream as the car rolls up the double driveway.
Manicured hedges frame the path. Here and there are dotted topiary sculpted into swirls and shapes that almost look too perfect to be real.
Beyond the flawlessly green lawn, a white tent the size of an airplane hangar gleams in the late afternoon sun, its peaks tipped with gold finials. The ocean glitters in the distance, a silver sheet stretching endlessly beyond the cliffs.
Even from the car window, I can tell that this isn’t just a wedding.
This is the wedding of the year. And this estate is just something else.
It makes Rhett’s beachfront mansion look like a shed in comparison.
God, what would these people think if they saw my tiny apartment? They would probably die on the spot.
“Wow,” I murmur, peering out of the window as uniformed attendants wave cars into a valet loop. Men in tuxedos and women in various colored gowns drift up the steps of the Hawthorn estate, their jewels flashing, their champagne flutes already in their hands.
Rhett smiles. “Oh, just wait. You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
My blush pink dress moves against my thighs as I shift in my seat.
It is the dress I picked out with Maria when she took me shopping in East Hampton.
The net fascinator I bought rests at an angle in my hair, a vintage touch that makes me feel like I’ve stepped out of an old Hollywood photograph.
My nude heels pinch a little, but they make my legs look longer, so I’ll suffer.
The gold clutch in my lap gleams softly.
The only problem is the nerves that threaten to pull me down if I let them.
We reach the end of the driveway and the chauffeur stops the car.
Before I can grasp the handle of the car door, Rhett has come around to my side.
He offers me his hand as though we’re in some old-fashioned film.
Cameras flash, and I panic inside. Am I going to end up in the bloopers in an issue of Hello at some point?
A who’s who of nobodies. I relax slightly when I realize quickly that they’re not paparazzi, just the wedding photographers and some of the other guests capturing the arrivals.
Still, I straighten my back and tilt my chin up slightly, suddenly conscious of every detail: the way my dress floats in the sea breeze, the way Rhett’s hand steadies me, the way his gaze flickers over me with something that makes my skin feel warmer.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, so low I almost miss it.
My cheeks heat. “I don’t feel beautiful at all.”
His eyes hold mine, darker than the ocean. “You will be the most beautiful woman in every room you enter.”
Before I can respond, an usher guides us up the grand steps in front of us.
The air smells like salt and roses. The gardens are drenched in blooms. White orchids, pale pink peonies, blush roses climbing arches and railings vie for attention.
There are flowers everywhere, as if someone decided the estate should resemble a living bouquet.
A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, the enchanting notes weaving through the laughter of guests.
Inside, we are led to a large room that has been transformed.
Rows of cream chairs stretch across the room with an aisle between them, facing a raised platform draped in cascading flowers.
A crystal arch stands at the front, catching the sun through the huge windows behind it until it scatters rainbows across the guests below.
Everything is decked out in shades of cream, ivory, and gold, a palette so elegant it almost hurts to look at it.
We look for our seats with Rhett’s friends. Max sees us first, and he immediately stands to greet us. He is tall and broad in a perfectly tailored suit, his grin easy. He leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Well, well, look who’s arrived. Was hoping you might have gotten bored with Remington and ditched him by now.”
“Don’t count on it,” Rhett says dryly, settling into the row.
I sit down beside him.
Maria beams at me, her dark hair shining in the sunlight. “Pippa, you look incredible. That dress was made for you.”
“Thanks,” I say with a nervous smile. “You look stunning in that dress.” Her dress is a soft peach silk number, cut daringly low at the back. “I’d kill to look so effortlessly elegant.”
She shrugs like she doesn’t expect to hear anything else. “This old thing,” she says dismissively, then winks at me.
Harrison, lounging on Maria’s other side, tips his sunglasses down his nose to glance at me. “Remington is one lucky bastard.”
I roll my eyes, but Rhett’s hand finds mine, squeezing lightly. My pulse jumps at the gesture.
Then Vanessa arrives.
My breath catches as I take her in. She’s wearing a sleek navy gown, and her hair is pinned up with a few soft waves around her face.
Her make-up is flawless. But she’s not alone.
A tall, handsome man in a dove-grey suit escorts her, his hand steady at the small of her back.
She’s radiant, laughing at something he whispers, leaning into him like she’s known him forever.
My heart gives a little leap. The ruse worked.
Vanessa has moved on. She’s here with someone new, her gaze sliding over Rhett and me without even a flicker of longing.
Relief should flood me. This is exactly what we wanted, isn’t it?
But a sudden, unexpected, and uninvited sadness tugs at me.
If Vanessa has moved on, and George wants me back, then we have successfully reached our end goal.
The game is over. I don’t want to go back to George, but what does that mean for Rhett and me once this wedding charade is over?
I force a smile as she and her date settle a few rows ahead of us. Maria leans over, whispering.
“Wow, Vanessa sure picked well?”
“Yeah,” I manage, clutching my gold purse tighter. “He looks like a good one.”
I am saved from any more debate about Vanessa’s date when the music swells over us. Elliot and his groomsmen have gotten into formation at the front near the arch, and the officiant is also standing there now.
The guests go quiet, turning as a hush sweeps the crowd.
I glance towards the back of the room just as Camile Chambers steps into view.
She is breathtaking in a gown of ivory lace, the skirt flowing like water behind her.
A long veil drifts over her shoulders, and her bouquet is a cloud of white roses.
She looks radiant, serene, as if she actually belongs and lives in this dreamscape.
Beside her, a man who I assume is her father, beams with pride, his arm linked through hers.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. Weddings always do this to me, even before Rhett, before I fell head over heels for him.
There’s just something about the promise in the air, the way two people look at each other like nothing else matters.
I glance at Rhett, wondering if he feels it too, but like everyone else, his gaze is turned to the bride, his expression neutral.
Camile walks down the aisle slowly, each step measured, as the quartet swells into Pachelbel’s Canon. Elliot Hawthorn waits at the altar, handsome in his black tuxedo, his face breaking into a smile so wide it seems to split him open when he sees her. The love in it is unmistakable, raw, and real.
My chest aches.
Camile reaches the front and goes to stand beside Elliot, her bridesmaids behind her. Her father takes a seat in the front row, and the ceremony begins.
The officiant, solemn in his robe, speaks of love and unity, of family and legacy. Around me, guests dab at their eyes discreetly with silk handkerchiefs. The sun dips lower, gilding the ocean in the background, the whole scene bathed in molten gold, made brighter.
Camile and Elliot exchange their vows, her voice trembling with emotion.
He promises to protect and cherish her, and to stand by her always.
She promises laughter, patience, and unwavering devotion.
Their hands clasp tight, their knuckles white, like letting go isn’t an option.
When Elliot slips the ring onto Camile’s finger, a band of diamonds that seems to ignite in the sunlight, the crowd sighs collectively, a sound like a light summer wind in the trees.
I feel Rhett’s thumb brushing circles against my palm.
I glance down. At some point, without realizing it, I’d linked my fingers through his.
Heat blooms in my chest, dangerous and sweet.
This isn’t supposed to be real. But in this moment, with vows hanging in the air and his hand holding mine, I can’t convince myself it’s just pretend.
The priest declares them husband and wife. Camile and Elliot kiss, and the crowd erupts into applause. Flower petals rain down from somewhere unseen, and drift like snow as they turn to walk back down the aisle. Camile is crying joyful tears.
I clap with everyone else, forcing brightness into my smile.
But inside, something is shifting. Watching them, I realize I want something like this too.
Not the diamonds or the grandeur, but the way Elliot looks at Camile like she is the only woman in the world for him.
His expression is full of certainty and devotion.
And suddenly, the ache in my chest sharpens, because for the first time, I let myself admit it: I don’t want this thing with Rhett to end.
As the newlyweds disappear into the sea of congratulations, the ushers begin guiding all the guests back out of the house and towards the reception tent.
All around me, voices rise, and laughter bubbles.
The air is electric with celebration. Rhett stands up, tugging me gently to my feet.
Our eyes meet, and for a fleeting second, it feels like the vows weren’t just for Elliot and Camile, but for us too, serving as a reminder, a warning, a wish.
We walk together out of the ceremony space, hand in hand, into the twilight glow, toward the reception that promises to be as dazzling as everything else tonight.