Chapter 17
Three Years Ago
“W HERE’S LUKE?” W YATT ASKED.
“Best man duties.” Chloe sipped her champagne and adjusted the straps of her pale pink gown.
Sloane and Alden’s wedding ceremony was opulent and dramatic, all four hundred guests sitting in gold chevalier chairs facing the grand stone stairs that led up to the historic Swan House outside of Atlanta. Dinner was under a clear-roofed tent draped with crystal chandeliers and rose arches set among the gardens of the southern mansion. And now they were sipping cocktails around the outdoor fountain while the band was setting up on the edge of a beautiful wooden dance floor under the stars.
Wyatt took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and asked, “What is Luke’s latest assignment?” All the friends knew that Sloane was going to tactfully but persistently designate tasks throughout the evening.
“As far as I can tell, dancing with Alden’s little sister so that she doesn’t dance with Sloane’s cousin,” Chloe explained.
“Why would that be a problem?”
Chloe pointed across the room to a guy holding a flask. “That is Sloane’s cousin. Apparently, he was arrested last year. Sloane said it was a misunderstanding, but you know how protective Alden is over his little sister. Luke’s job is to babysit Lucy.”
“That seems challenging.” Wyatt gestured toward Luke and Lucy. They were standing around a tall cocktail table, Lucy reaching for a glass of champagne that Luke quickly confiscated before Lucy returned to staring at her phone. She was clearly miserable and constantly making eye contact with Sloane’s cousin. Luke turned and waved to someone across the dance floor, and Lucy took that opportunity to mouth instructions to the felon cousin. A moment later, the cousin slipped away and Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. Unless Luke stayed by her side all night, Chloe suspected that Lucy and the felon would be sneaking off soon.
“Well, I guess that means I have a new responsibility,” Wyatt said.
“What?” Chloe asked.
“Keeping you company.”
“What was your old responsibility?”
“I think Sloane’s expectations of me were low. I walked down the aisle. I wore a tux. She asked me to escort her grandmother to the dinner table, and now it seems like her dictator duties are focused on others.”
“Poor Marianne.” Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing.
When Sloane started planning the wedding, there was no question that Marianne and Chloe would both be bridesmaids. But since Marianne was already married, and from the South, and generally one thousand times more responsible than Chloe, it was a surprise to no one that Sloane wanted Marianne as her matron of honor.
Sloane had worried about hurting Chloe’s feelings and pretended that it was a hard decision. And Chloe pretended that it was a job she wanted, when in reality she was relieved not to be Sloane’s maid of honor. She couldn’t imagine a more torturous job than trying to make sure that someone as perfect as Sloane was having a perfect wedding day.
Marianne had spent the night scuttling from one task to another. First there were the missing cuff links that were eventually located in the men’s bathroom of the hotel lobby where some groomsman had left them. Then the bridal bouquet somehow contained asters, a flower Sloane said she was allergic to but really just detested. And now Marianne was in discussions with the band about not playing the songs guests requested and instead following the set list Sloane specified. Of course, there was a wedding coordinator to handle most of these issues, but Marianne was the designated buffer between the wedding coordinator and Sloane, because even hearing reports on issues being handled would be enough to send Sloane into a tailspin.
“Did she get to eat anything?” Chloe asked.
“Not really,” Wyatt replied. “I saw Marianne eating a granola bar behind the tent and then shoving the wrapper in her bra when Sloane called her name.”
Chloe said, “I should go see what I can do to help.”
“Or maybe we should dance?” Wyatt asked. The band had started playing, and everyone was trickling onto the dance floor. “Then we can go help together.”
“You don’t dance, Wyatt.”
“It’s a wedding. I can dance at a wedding.” Wyatt held out a hand, and Chloe was about to accept when they were interrupted.
Luke frantically asked, “Have you seen Lucy?”
Wyatt and Chloe both shook their heads. “Weren’t you just talking to her?” Chloe asked.
“I stopped to get a drink. When I turned around, she was gone.” Luke’s eyes darted around the room. “Shit. Alden’s going to kill me.” Luke abruptly walked away, but he called over his shoulder, “Wyatt, thanks for keeping Chloe company.”
“Why does everyone think I need a babysitter?” Chloe asked the sky.
“It’s your childlike innocence,” Wyatt said.
“As opposed to your hardened cynicism?”
“Yep.” Wyatt nudged Chloe’s side. “I guess this is an official assignment now. Ready to dance?”
Chloe accepted his outstretched hand as Wyatt wove them through the crowd. The band was good, and the guests were enjoying themselves. It was one thing she loved about weddings—no matter your age or your level of everyday seriousness, when a wedding band played some classics, everyone threw away inhibitions. Who knew how much this band cost—probably more than her yearly rent, because there were multiple singers and lots of different instruments.
As Chloe and Wyatt danced, she smiled at his subtle sways, his attempts to nod his head to the beat of the music but refusing to make any steps beyond those minuscule movements. When the music slowed and couples stepped closer together, she thought that was the end of their dance. But instead, his arm wrapped around her waist and she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“This is more my speed,” Wyatt said.
“I appreciate your attempt to wedding dance with me.”
He smirked. “We can all be grateful those forty-five seconds of awkwardness are over.”
She looked around the room at all the couples together, young and old, as her eyes landed on Sloane and Alden. It had been a joy to watch them fall in love, to see how they brought out the best in one another, and to witness the vows they exchanged. Chloe had expected a traditional ceremony, so she was shocked when Sloane and Alden decided to recite their own vows.
Chloe didn’t want to spend a second of the night feeling anything other than happy for her friends, so when bits of jealousy began to bubble up, she pushed them away. When she married Luke someday, he’d probably also say that his life began the moment they met. Or a Luke version of that sentiment anyway.
“Don’t let him step on your toes. He’s a terrible dancer,” Wyatt’s father said as he danced alongside Chloe. He spun Wyatt’s mother on the dance floor, and Chloe laughed.
Sloane had invited Wyatt’s parents, along with Luke’s and Marianne’s parents. Sloane said she wanted all the important people at her wedding, and in Sloane’s world nothing was more important than family. But before she did it, Sloane called Chloe and asked if it would be too hard to have everyone’s parents gathered. Of course Chloe said it was fine—because it was. She never wanted her sad moments to overshadow others’ happy times. And Chloe also knew she was lucky to have a friend who was thoughtful enough to ask.
“Wyatt is a terrific dancer,” his mother argued. “He got it from me.”
Wyatt’s father shook his head. “You’re going to need to practice more, son. There’s lots of dancing at those political fundraisers. When you run for office, all eyes will be on you.” Wyatt’s parents ventured off to the other end of the dance floor before Wyatt could respond.
Chloe watched them for a moment. A couple very much in love. Wyatt was a perfect mash-up of his parents, with his father’s tall frame and his mother’s dark hair. But Chloe’s eyes quickly narrowed in on Wyatt, staring up into his face as she asked, “Political office?”
“Can we skip over that?” Wyatt looked away. He extracted his hand from hers, wiped it on the leg of his pants, and then reached out again.
“No, we can’t,” she said as they continued to sway around the dance floor. “Why does your dad think you’re running for office? Are you?”
“Of course not. That’s my nightmare.” He still didn’t look in her direction. “I live in DC. He’s old and confused.”
“He’s in his fifties and very spry,” she shot back. She turned Wyatt’s head toward his parents, and they watched as his dad dipped his mom in some elaborate ballroom maneuver.
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Fine. When I got the job in DC, he may have made a couple of assumptions that I failed to correct.”
Chloe feigned shock. “You lied to your father?”
“Omissions. You wouldn’t understand.”
She stopped dancing. “Why?”
“Because your parents loved you,” he said softly, erasing the defensiveness from her body. “And supported you.”
“You didn’t know my parents,” Chloe stammered.
“No, but I’ve listened to dozens of your stories about them. Am I wrong?”
She shook her head. Wyatt was an excellent listener, it was one of the things she liked most about him. She never felt like she needed to rush along when she reminisced. He liked all stories, even long rambling ones from a girl who babbled too much when she was lonely.
“How is it different?” Chloe asked.
Wyatt stared at his shoes, and when he looked up, all the fun had left his eyes. “My dad has been disappointed in me since elementary school. Sometimes it’s easier to just let him think what he wants.”
“I doubt that, Wyatt.”
“He was a lineman at UGA. In fourth grade, I was more interested in The Hobbit than the Sugar Bowl. I brought books to football games and watched him scowl at his son.”
“Southerners are weird about their football obsession,” she tried to argue. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
“I could have a bestseller, and he’d still be embarrassed to say his son writes stories for a living. I may have mentioned that I was on the Hill for my new job, which was true. I was interviewing a congressman, and my father ran with the idea that I had political ambitions. He’s too exhausting to correct. So I let him believe what he wants.”
“That also seems exhausting,” Chloe whispered.
Wyatt shrugged. “I figured out a long time ago that I’m never going to be the son he wants. I don’t expect more from that relationship than he’s capable of giving.”
Chloe wished Wyatt could experience the type of unconditional love that she had always felt from her parents. But five years ago, she had learned that it was possible to live without it, especially when you had friends who filled the gaps. Maybe Wyatt felt the same.
“How’s the gallery?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“Good,” she reflexively replied.
“ Good is the answer you give your aunt at Christmas. How is it really going, Chloe?”
She sighed. “The gallery is good. It’s not great. I don’t mind the work, but I don’t love it.”
“I get that.” He tilted his head. “Especially since we’ve been conditioned to love what we do or else feel like a failure.” Somehow, Wyatt summed up exactly how Chloe felt.
Being surrounded by artists could be difficult for Chloe because it constantly reminded her that some people live a life of passion and others don’t.
She sighed. “I think I’m just realizing that I want my life to look different in ten years. I don’t want to keep handling logistics for other artists’ dreams. But I have no idea what kind of different life I want. So for now, I’m good with good .”
“And what about everything else?” Wyatt asked.
Chloe shrugged.
“Luke. New York. Are those things good too?”
“You know what it’s like,” Chloe said to the side of the room.
Wyatt reached for her chin and turned her face back toward his. “I don’t. I’m a DC man now. You have to fill me in.”
It was times like this that Chloe missed the days they all lived together. They had separate lives now, and sometimes they reverted to natural fractures. Chloe talked to Marianne and Sloane the most. Luke talked to Wyatt and Alden. Chloe longed for the unit they once were.
“Doesn’t Luke fill you in?” Chloe asked.
“I want to hear what you think, Chloe.”
Chloe swallowed and accidentally stepped on Wyatt’s toe. She mumbled an apology while Wyatt waited for her to respond. “Luke works a lot,” Chloe said. “Not just hours in an office. There are events at night, and it’s not my scene.”
Wyatt’s eyes softened as he said, “It never has been.”
“I know that. And you know that. But even after all these years, I still don’t think Luke knows that.” Chloe said this softly, because somehow that minimized the betrayal, complaining about her boyfriend to his best friend. Chloe continued, “Luke doesn’t seem to mind when I skip out of the cocktail parties early. Or ditch them altogether. But it means that we barely see each other.”
“Do you think it’s a phase in life or something else?” Wyatt asked.
“I don’t know,” Chloe answered truthfully. “Is it normal to have different definitions of fun from the person you love?”
Wyatt seemed to contemplate his answer. Chloe looked around the dance floor, and Marianne was sheepishly tapping Sloane on the shoulder. Whatever she said made Sloane stop dancing while Marianne waved her hands frantically, and they both left.
Wyatt pointed in their direction. “Do you think Sloane and Marianne have the same definition of fun right now?” Wyatt asked.
“Probably not.” Chloe didn’t know why, but she felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Wyatt stopped dancing, but he didn’t take his hand off Chloe’s waist. “Talk to him. I’m sure it’s important to Luke that you’re having fun too. If you’re just following along, you’re not building a life together.”
Wyatt looked across the dance floor, and Chloe followed his gaze. Luke was dancing with Alden’s little sister Lucy. He must have found her and decided that the only way to keep her occupied was to force her into a dance. Luke was clearly taking this Sloane assignment seriously.
Chloe knew Luke was a great guy, the type of person who would babysit his best friend’s sister when asked. Wyatt was right, he’d probably do anything for Chloe if she really pushed.
But how could Chloe tell Wyatt that she’d tried to have that same conversation a million times? She’d open her mouth to propose something different, and Luke would laugh like it was the funniest joke she’d ever told. Why would they want to try the trapeze at Riverside Park when Luke’s boss was paying for drinks at the Standard? It was almost as if the lives they wanted were so different they weren’t even speaking the same language anymore. Chloe was weekend trips to the Hudson Valley and a new folk artist in Lancaster County. Luke was a summer share in the Hamptons and Fashion Week after-parties.
Instead, Chloe said, “You’re absolutely right, Wyatt. Luke is the best.”
Then she looked away, so that Wyatt wouldn’t ask any more questions, and so that he couldn’t see the tear sliding down her cheek.