Chapter 18 #2
I stare at the fridge like something inside it might fix me. Then I close it again. Half the takeout has gone bad. I throw it all away, too tired to even feel wasteful.
The dress I’m supposed to wear to the wedding hangs untouched on the back of my bedroom door. Still in the garment bag. Still pristine. I walk past it like it’s a corpse.
I take longer showers now. Not to feel clean, but because the sound of the water drowns out the thoughts. Sometimes I sit on the floor of the tub and let it run cold.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.
Not hope.
Not closure.
Not even Will.
I think I’m just waiting to disappear a little more each day.
And I am. Piece by piece. Quietly. Elegantly. Like someone packing away a life they no longer have the strength to live.
No one sees it. No one stops it.
And that’s the most terrifying part of all. That I could fade, completely, and not a single soul would notice.
Liam and Olive’s wedding day arrives like a spotlight I never asked to stand in. I’m dressed in the soft, summery blue gown Olive picked for us. It’s flowy, delicate, and ethereal. The kind of dress that’s supposed to make you feel like part of something beautiful.
But all I feel is like a ghost playing dress-up in someone else’s life.
Connie and Ruby sit on a velvet settee, huddled together with misty eyes as Olive gets ready, radiant in lace and laughter.
People buzz around us with champagne flutes and curling irons.
The room smells like hairspray and roses and joy.
I smile. I talk. I even laugh when someone makes a joke about baby spit-up being the new perfume.
But inside? I’m not here. Not really. I’m somewhere far away. Still in the stairwell at the hospital. Still at the bottom of my kitchen floor. Still holding the ashes of a version of me I don’t recognize anymore.
At one point, Olive turns to me, glowing, eyes shining with that vulnerable kind of love that only exists in the final, quiet moments before a life begins.
“Can you go get Liam?” she asks softly.
I know what she means. It’s the look Charlie gave Sam when they got married. A look that says I need you before I promise myself away.
So I nod. And I go. I make my way through the church toward the groom’s room, heels quiet against polished floors. I pause at the edge of the hallway, just as I hear them talking on the other side of the door.
Liam’s laughing.
“You ever gonna settle down?” he asks.
Will answers, voice too familiar, too casual. “Me? Nah. The bar is my wife. And she’s a jealous lover.”
The guys chuckle.
Liam teases, “We really need to get you laid.”
“I saw Olive’s maid of honor. Pretty sure she taught Jesus in kindergarten. And Ruby’s pushing ninety. You stacked that bridal party against me.”
My feet stop moving.
My chest goes still.
The bridal party that consists of Ruby, Connie… and me.
I’m not even a footnote.
Not even a joke.
Just nothing.
I stare at the floor, face burning. My throat closes around something bitter and sharp and quietly devastating.
I don’t even register that I’ve curled my fingers into fists.
For one awful moment, I consider running.
Locking myself in a bathroom stall and falling apart like the coward I’m terrified I’ve become.
But Olive needs me.
And if I can’t be wanted, I can at least be useful.
So I knock.
The laughter dies as I open the door.
“What is it?” Liam asks.
I force my voice into something flat and numb. “Apparently, this is my life now.”
“Phern,” he snaps, as if he’s warning me.
I straighten my spine, choking down the heat rising in my throat. “Olive would like a word.”
He mutters something under his breath and pushes past me without another word.
I don’t follow. I just stand there in that goddamn blue dress, surrounded by other people’s joy, with the echoes of their laughter still ringing in my ears.
And for the first time in a long time I don’t just feel invisible. I feel erased.
Will comes to a stop in front of me, blocking the hallway like it’s no big deal. Like we haven’t been orbiting around each other for months like two stars too stubborn to burn out.
He glances around, like he’s making sure we’re alone, then pulls something from his jacket pocket.
“Found something you left at the bar the other night.”
“What did I leave?”
He holds it out. Crumpled. Flattened. Familiar. My heart sinks. The list. I stare at it, frozen. My mouth opens, but the words stick.
“It was trash,” I say finally, trying to sound dismissive. Distant. Untouched.
His eyes stay on mine, calm but unreadable. “Didn’t look like trash.”
“Then you clearly haven’t seen my garbage can,” I mutter.
“It looked like something you’ve put a lot of thought into,” he says.
The air thickens between us. My cheeks burn. Not with embarrassment but exposure. Like I’m standing here stripped bare in a dress that doesn’t belong to me, in a wedding that isn’t mine, facing the man who undid me without ever meaning to.
“I wrote it a long time ago,” I say, voice thin. “Back when I still thought the universe might throw me a bone.”
Will folds the paper once, carefully like it matters.
“You still could do all of these things,” he says quietly.
My laugh is sharp and humorless. “Will, I can’t even get through this wedding without falling apart. I don’t need a list of impossible hopes haunting me too.”
He hesitates, then slides the list back into his pocket. “Still didn’t look like trash to me.”
Then he turns and walks away. Just like he always does.
Leaving me with a heart that won’t stop screaming Then why did you treat me like I was?