Chapter Three #2
The frosting smear across my chest is more noticeable in this harsh lighting, a pale blue stain streaked with white buttercream that sticks to the satin like some kind of bridal scarlet letter.
I press my fingers against the fabric, wiping at it uselessly before tearing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser.
But it’s not the wreckage on my dress that I’m drawn to cleaning up.
It’s the card.
I brush away the frosting with the ball of wadded up paper towels.
The air around me grows thick and humid, and a tingle washes down my back, electricity pulsing just beneath my skin.
The world around me seems to slow, the edges of my vision growing hazy.
My breathing stills as the last bits of frosting melt away under my touch and reveal the card’s shimmering surface.
It looks like a tarot card.
No…it is a tarot card.
I swallow and peer closer. I can’t explain the dread pooling in my stomach as I trace the shimmering figures on the surface. The card seems to vibrate, hum with an energy that pours lava hot through my veins.
Two figures are locked in a tender embrace, bodies pressed together like two halves of the same whole beneath towering, golden-leafed trees.
A twisting green serpent curls up one of the tree trunks—temptation lurking in the shadows.
The man and woman at the center look familiar.
Too familiar to ignore, even as my mind insists it’s impossible.
I touch my hair as I stare down at hers.
Even with the singed ends I had to cut off in my hotel room with sewing scissors, my blond waves still drape across my shoulders and down my back—just like hers.
She wears a deep blue gown, and a satin mask obscures her eyes, but I know that round chin, those cheekbones, that smile.
And him. I’d recognize him anywhere.
“Alder.”
His golden hair, his chiseled features, those piercing blue eyes…
They’re locked on the version of me printed on the card while his hand cradles her neck.
I can almost feel those hands, the way his fingers used to trace my skin with equal parts possession and command, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to protect me or mark me as his.
I clench my jaw, forcing away the memory, but the figures are unmistakable.
She looks like me. He looks like Alder. They look like us.
I grip the card tighter, trying to convince myself it’s just a trick of my mind, just another silly wedding game.
A flicker of movement catches my eye, and my pulse quickens. The serpent, coiled around the base of the tree shimmers for a moment, its green scales catching the light like it’s alive.
“You are on your way to being drunk, Gemma. Get your shit together.” I shake my head. “And don’t do this to yourself. Don’t perform these mental gymnastics. Not over Alder. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
I reach for more paper towels from the dispenser to clean up my dress, but it’s empty. Of course it is. Leaving the champagne flute on the counter, I grab the tarot card and make a beeline for the nearest stall. I’ll finish cleaning up with toilet paper.
The stall door closes behind me just as the bathroom door swings open, heels clicking across the tiled floor.
“Doesn’t Mackenzie look so beautiful?” Kendall gushes, her unmistakable vocal fry on overdrive from too much alcohol. “Everything is just so perfect.”
“Oh, I know. Absolutely perfect,” Alex replies, her southern drawl coated in sugar. “Though, if I’m being honest, the lighting during the ceremony could’ve been a touch softer. Mackenzie looked a little washed out.”
“Mmm,” Kendall hums in agreement. “And those boutonnieres? I would have made such a different choice, but…”
Their passive-aggressive critique carries on, bless her heart and it’s just a shame stabbing through their conversation like thorns among roses. I roll my eyes and tear off more toilet paper to wipe the last bit of frosting from the pale-yellow satin.
I just need to get cleaned up and get out of here. Seems like I’m going to spend this whole night running away from people.
Kendall’s tone shifts. “Can you believe Gemma actually showed up?”
My fingers freeze. Here we go.
“Oh my God.” Alex feigns surprise. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you brought it up—the absolute audacity. She didn’t come to any of the pre-wedding events. Not the bridal shower, not the bachelorette. Too busy playing girl boss in the Big Apple.”
Kendall snickers. “Right? And then she flames out and comes crawling back like nothing happened.”
“Seriously.” Alex’s voice drips with faux concern. “I heard she lost her job, her apartment, and like—everything. Now she’s acting like it’s totally fine that she’s back here, drinking champagne and acting like she’s not seconds away from couch surfing.”
Kendall clicks her tongue. “I mean, bless her heart. Mackenzie should’ve cut her from the bridal party. Would’ve made more sense to let someone who actually showed up to things hold a bouquet.”
“And can we talk about how hard she pulled on that cake ribbon?” Alex huffs. “Like, this charm isn’t going to save you, honey.”
Kendall laughs. “You know she was hoping for a money charm.”
Alex snorts. “Honestly, if I’d tanked that hard, I wouldn’t be showing my face at all.”
They cackle, oblivious to the fact that I’m standing mere feet away.
“I will never get what Alder saw in her.” Alex pauses her cutting blows to rustle through her clutch, the sounds of makeup caps popping off. “He could have anyone, but he always went back to her. She’s never been in his league.”
“I know,” Kendall scoffs. “We’ve been single this whole time, and he hasn’t texted either of us once.”
Alex cuts in. “It’s fucking mindboggling.”
My heart thumps harder, and my fingers press against the card as if it can reach the answer to something I can’t quite grasp. I’ve let them go on for long enough.
I ball up the sticky wad of toilet paper and toss it into the bowl. It flushes with a satisfying whoosh. I throw open the stall door like I’m an old west sheriff and their luck has just run out.
Their laughter dies as I meet their shocked, wide-eyed gazes in the mirror. Alex’s hand hovers midair, her blush brush poised over her cheek, and Kendall’s lips move in a silent oh shit.
I step up to the sink beside them, slow and unbothered. I rinse my hands. Pat them dry. Then I smile, sharp and sweet.
What’s a couple of mean girls compared to the rest of my life burning to the ground?
“Sorry to hear it’s been so hard for y’all to get your lives together,” I say, voice soaked in sugar. “Do you think it has anything to do with the fact that you’re both clinging to the same hometown drama you peaked with at seventeen?”
Their horrified gazes lock on mine.
“Here’s a tip,” I continue, reaching for my champagne flute and raising it in a mock toast. “You don’t need a money charm—you need therapy and a personality.”
Alex’s cheeks flame pink. Kendall sputters.
“But hey,” I say, tilting my head, “I’m rooting for you. Genuinely. It must be exhausting being that bitter all the time.”
I take a slow, luxurious sip of champagne, letting the bubbles fizz and pop against my tongue, savoring the moment before I swallow. Then, without another word, I turn on my heel and stride out of the bathroom.
The door swings shut behind me with a satisfying thud, cutting off their sputtered outrage.
For the first time since coming back home, I feel like I won.