Chapter 5 Joelle
JOELLE
The welcome dinner is a spectacle, long tables draped in white linen, gold candelabras, and flowers everywhere. String lights are woven through the trees. Kitty secured a million-dollar deal for exclusive wedding photos. Everything is content. Everything is performance.
I'm seated at the family table, Mom to my left, Collette to my right.
Across from us are some of Pierre's teammates from the South Dakota Devils.
Pierre sits beside Kitty at the head table, barely speaking, his jaw tight, his smile doesn't reach his eyes.
He looks like a man walking toward his execution, not his wedding.
The dinner drags on, more courses, more speeches, more photos. Finally, the music starts, and people drift toward the dance floor. One of Pierre's teammates, Anders, who’s Swedish and charming, asks me to dance. Collette practically shoves me onto the floor with him.
"It's only a dance," she says. "Go, have fun."
Anders pulls me against him. "It's okay. I'm not offended that you're not interested." His comment catches me off-guard. "I would have rocked your world, but I guess you'll never know now."
I burst out laughing as he twirls me expertly around the floor.
"You can dance?"
He nods. "Hockey rink and dance classes were in the same building. Mom made me go with my sisters."
We're mid-conversation when he stills, and all flirtation drains from his face. I turn and Pierre is glaring at him.
"And that's the reason I don't mess around with my brother's teammates," I say.
"Yeah. Cap doesn't look happy. He's going to kill me when we get back on the ice."
"Yep. It never ends well for the guys."
"Joelle." Pierre taps my shoulder. "Do you mind if I cut in?"
Anders says his goodbye and walks off. Pierre doesn't look pleased.
"Would you stop eyeballing him. He was being nice."
"He knows better." Pierre takes my hand and starts dancing. He's stiff and uncomfortable.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.
"Fine," he grumbles.
"You don't look fine."
He doesn't answer, just guides me through the steps. Silent and miserable.
"Are you happy, Pierre?" I ask him.
"What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one."
He doesn't answer, he just looks toward the head table where Kitty is posing with her bridesmaids, champagne glass raised, laughing for the cameras.
"I'm just stressed," he finally says. "All this is a lot."
He’s not wrong, but I change the subject, we talk about London, about work. He tries to smile, tries to pretend everything is fine. But it’s not. Then he lets go of me and walks over to break up Felix and Harper.
It’s been an hour since I’ve seen anyone in my family, where the hell could they all be? My phone buzzes while I'm at the bar.
Felix: Meet in our room in five. SOS. Runaway groom.
What? Oh shit. I look around, hoping no one saw my text.
I rush upstairs and push through the cracked door to Felix and Harper's room.
"What the hell is going on?"
The room is chaos, Felix is pacing, and Harper is on her phone. Pierre is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Mom and Collette are already here, looking stressed.
"Kitty has been screwing the owner of the team. Pierre and Harper just spotted them doing it in the garden," Collette fills me in.
I freeze. "What the fuck? He's old."
"Language, girls," Mom states.
"Yeah, but he's a billionaire," Collette adds.
My brain is spinning. "What's the plan?"
"My plane is ready in Florence. My driver is waiting downstairs," Harper says. Still typing on her phone. "I'm taking the boys back to New York with me. Collette and your mother have asked to stay to distract Kitty and her family long enough for your brother to escape."
I look at Pierre. He looks broken. Devastated.
"I'm in too," I state.
"Thank you." Pierre rushes over and pulls me into a hug.
Everyone says rushed goodbyes amidst hugs and tears. And then they're gone. Harper, Felix, and Pierre.
Mom, Collette, and I stand in the empty room, the silence is deafening.
"Well," Collette says finally. "Someone has to tell her, and it’s not going to be me.”
“Fine. I’ll tell her.”
“You’re the best.” Collette smiles.
We pack first for our getaway, then we head back to the party and try to pretend everything is okay.
An hour later, I approach Kitty. "Can we talk? Somewhere private," I ask her.
Her smile falters. "Why?"
"Please, just come with me."
She follows me upstairs to her and Pierre's suite. The room is pristine, all white and gold, and her wedding dress hangs in the corner. She turns to face me, arms crossed, stamping her foot. "Well?"
I take a breath. "The wedding is off."
Silence.
Kitty blinks twice, like her brain is buffering. "What?"
"The wedding. It's not happening."
Her face goes pale. Then red. "What are you talking about? The wedding is in two days. We have two hundred and fifty guests. We have a million-dollar magazine deal."
"Pierre left."
"Left?" Her voice climbs higher. "Left where?”
"He's gone."
She stares at me. "That's not funny, Joelle."
"I'm not joking."
She pushes past me and yanks open the door. "Pierre!" she screams into the hallway. "Pierre!"
Nothing.
She whirls back. "Where the fuck is my fiancé?"
"He's not coming back."
"Why?" Her eyes are wild now. Panicked. "What happened?"
I don't say anything.
She looks at me, really looks at me. "You know something."
"The wedding is off, and that's all you need to know."
"That's all I need to know?" She laughs hysterically. "You're telling me the groom is gone, and I don't get to know why?" She grabs a champagne glass from the dresser and hurls it across the room, it shatters against the wall. “Tell me what happened!” she screams at me.
The door bursts open, her bridesmaids rush in, and then her parents.
"What's happening?" her mother demands.
"They're saying Pierre left," Kitty sobs. "They're saying the wedding is off."
Her father steps forward, big, imposing, red-faced. "This is ridiculous. You can't just cancel a wedding."
"The wedding is off," I repeat firmly.
"Explain yourself," her mother demands.
I look at Kitty, surrounded by her bridesmaids, crying, her mascara running. Part of me feels bad for her. The other part knows what she did.
"Pierre had his reasons," I say carefully.
"What reasons could possibly justify this?" her father shouts.
They keep pushing. Keep demanding answers. Keep insulting my brother. Finally, I've had enough.
"Pierre caught Kitty in the garden earlier tonight," I say clearly. "Screwing someone else."
Complete silence.
Kitty's face drains of color.
"That's a lie." Her mother gasps.
"It's not a lie. Pierre and Harper saw her. With another man."
Her father's face goes red. "This is slander. We could sue you."
"Go ahead," I say calmly. "Pierre has proof. Harper filmed it."
Kitty's head snaps up. "What?"
"The whole thing," I say.
I pull out my phone and open the video Harper sent me. "Do you want to see it?" I turn the phone toward them and press play.
Kitty's voice fills the room, breathy, pleading. "Yes, Daddy. Harder, Daddy."
Her mother turns away, hand over her mouth.
I stop the video. "That's Bill Reeves. The owner of Pierre's team. I can play more if you'd like."
No one speaks.
"You were supposed to get married to a man who loved you," I say quietly. "And instead, you were in the garden with a sixty-year-old married billionaire."
Her mother sinks into a chair. "Kitty. Tell me this isn't true."
Kitty doesn't answer.
"Kitty!" her father roars.
"I ... I love him ..."
"Oh my god," her mother breathes.
The bridesmaids file out.
It's just us now. Me, Kitty, and her parents.
"How could you?" her mother whispers.
"Bill's going to leave his wife for me," Kitty says. "What I have with him is real."
I want to throw up.
Her father turns to me. "Does anyone else know?"
"Just the family and Harper."
"Will she release the video?"
I shake my head. "Not if you cooperate. Tell everyone there was a family emergency. Cancel the wedding quietly. No drama. No press."
"And if we don't?" they ask.
"Then the video goes public. And everyone knows exactly why the wedding was canceled."
He looks at his daughter who’s sobbing in her mother's arms. "We'll handle it," he says finally, then walks out.
"How long?" I ask Kitty.
"Fuck you," she hisses.
"I think you've said enough. Go," her mother yells at me.
I walk out and down the stairs to the front foyer, where Mom and Collette are waiting. They rush over and hug me.
"How bad was it?" Mom asks.
"Bad. But it's done."
Headlights appear in the driveway, that must be Harper's driver. We grab our bags and walk out into the warm Italian night.
"She lost her mind, didn't she?" Collette asks.
"She sure did." I smirk.
Tomorrow, there will be chaos. Guests will arrive and questions will be asked. But we'll be gone. Off exploring Italy. Leaving this nightmare behind us.
I just hope Pierre can, too.