Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
The December sky blooms like a secret it can no longer keep.
As the sun edges above the horizon, pink light spills across the world. Everything feels suspended, as if the day itself is holding its breath. A sacred start to the day that feels alive with possibility.
With each passing minute, the silence grows louder.
An invisible band tightens around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. My hands shake as icy dread starts in my toes and spreads upward, seizing my entire body.
There’s been no word. Ivy is already starting to get ready. The house buzzes as bridesmaids, hair stylists, and makeup artists begin arriving.
“Where’d you go last night? I couldn’t find you.” Mason heads straight toward me, where I’m still curled on the sectional, staring out the windows, dressed in my running clothes from the night before.
“I went for a long run.”
“Can you get your shit together and act like my wife today?” He grabs my wrist.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.”
“Syd, will you talk to me? What’s going on?” Dr. Jekyll appears, his voice going all soft and gentle.
“Just drop it. I need more coffee,” I say, walking off.
He doesn’t follow. Maybe he thinks the wedding will fix everything. He probably thinks I’ll go back to being compliant, accommodating Sydney. Or he’s already calculating his next move.
Sorry, Mason. Your reckoning is coming. Wedding or not.
Ivy stands at the center of the kitchen, ethereal in her robe. The perfect picture of a bride about to step into the life she’s meticulously planned. She leans against the counter, a satisfied curve to her lips.
“Morning, Syd.”
“Good morning, Ivy.” I keep my head down and go straight for the coffee pot.
“Lovely day for a wedding, isn’t it?”
My hands shake as I pour coffee into my mug. I blink back the tears I’ve been holding in since James walked out of the room. Oh God. Is he really going to marry her? Why hasn’t he called it off yet?
Before Ivy can dig the dagger in any further, the front door opens, and Darrell and Vera enter, carrying a large white box.
“Good morning,” Vera calls cheerfully. “We brought pastries.”
Footsteps thunder across the floor, and Anna barrels into me, wrapping around my legs. Jules scans the room, trying to piece together what she walked into. I shrug. I wish I knew. Margaret follows, greets Vera and Darrell, then hugs Ivy.
Jules strides to the speaker and clicks it on, breaking the quiet like a raised eyebrow.
“Good morning, wedding people! Thought I’d crank the vibe up to ‘It’s wedding day.’ You’re welcome.” She smirks as the lyrics kick in.
Usher croons about losing control, being swept up in someone. Someone who’s usually in control but suddenly finds themselves entangled beyond reason. She’s the best and the worst.
Thanks for that, Jules.
While she steals everyone’s attention with her over-the-top dance moves, Vera drifts over to me. She leans in, her voice low. “Go along with this.”
I blink, but she’s already crossing the room, slipping into conversation with Margaret and Ivy. I stand there, confused as I watch her continue chatting. She stops, hand half raised mid-conversation, then clutches her chest, her breath catching.
“Oh… my…” Vera whispers before crumpling to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret drops beside her.
“My chest… it’s… so tight,” Vera gasps. “I… I can’t breathe.”
Jules and Tom rush forward, instincts kicking in. Their voices are calm but urgent. “What are you feeling? Is it radiating down your arm? Can you breathe? Mom, aspirin now!”
Margaret’s already dialing 911 as she ransacks the cabinets.
At the center of the kitchen, Ivy stands frozen. She watches the action taking place in front of her with a detached calm. There’s no worry or urgency in her eyes, only the fading of her smile.
Vera closes her eyes. “I don’t know… it’s so tight…”
Through the blur of movement, through the crowd pressing in around her, she darts a look right at me: Go along with it. I blink, stunned, and in complete admiration.
She’s faking this whole thing.
My own acting skills kick in. “Darrell, call James. He’ll want to meet you at the hospital.”
The corner of his mouth twitches before reining it in and calling James. “Your mom collapsed. We’ve called an ambulance. I’ll text you when we’re on the way.” A beat—James must say something. “Yes, I know. I’ll tell her.”
Darrell kneels beside Vera, still clutching her chest on the kitchen floor like she’s halfway to the pearly gates, and whispers something I can’t hear. Vera gives the faintest nod.
Oh my God. This is happening.
This is the plan they cooked up?
When the paramedics arrive, Darrell follows the gurney without a backward glance.
This will be a costly trip to the ER. I’m still not clear why this was the best idea, but James must have talked to them after leaving me last night.
Maybe he thought separating the wedding and the breakup would be easier on her?
Whatever the reason, I don’t care. As long as it means James isn’t getting married today.
Ivy watches the gurney rolling through the front door. Her mouth is tight, her eyes wet with tears. She doesn’t move until Margaret guides her to the sectional in the living room.
“What does this mean?” her voice trembles.
“I think it means we wait.” Margaret brushes Ivy’s hair off her face. “We see if Vera’s okay.”
“But the wedding’s supposed to start at noon… It’s already eight. How can he go to the hospital and be back in time?”
Realization begins to settle on her face. Slow. Suffocating.
Margaret scans the room, searching for someone to say what she won’t. Her eyes land on Jules.
“Ives.” Jules moves cautiously toward her sister. “I think we have to assume he won’t be back in time. We should start calling vendors and guests, talk to everyone upstairs getting dressed.”
“NO!” Ivy screams. “We… we need to get married!” And the tears finally break through. She sobs uncontrollably into her hands. Through gasping breaths, she repeats, “We need to get married.”
“I’m so sorry, love.” Margaret pulls her close. “Right now, we need to focus on Vera and wait for news.”
“Mama?” Anna wraps her arms around my legs.
“Aunt Ivy’s sad. Let’s go upstairs.” I look into her wide, searching eyes and scoop her up, grabbing her a muffin and hustling us away.
I’ve made so many mistakes over the years, and now this—letting it get to this point, the morning of her wedding. While she might only be in love with the idea of him, these tears aren’t fake. This is any bride’s worst nightmare.
Anna and I retreat to the sunroom, curling up on the rug beside a basket of toys. She hums as she lines up animal figurines, the chaos from downstairs now muffled by distance and closed doors.
The sunroom, filled with years of memories, some painful, others beautiful, holds me like an old friend as I sprawl starfish on the floor and let it all wash over me.
Surrounded by a child’s innocent play, the aftermath of a canceled wedding, and the first glimmers of real possibility, I begin to see the path forward.
Not an escape, but a journey toward something better.
A future that is mine to claim. No more pretending.
No more lies. No more desires buried. A life waiting to be lived in all its messy beauty.
“Mama, want to play?” Anna’s soft voice breaks through the quiet.
“Yes, Bug. I want to play.”
And so we play together, while the world rearranges itself.
***
A collective exhale moves through the room as Vera, James, and Darrell step inside the cabin. Vera waves off concern, assuring everyone she’s fine. Not a heart attack. Just stress. Exhaustion. Relief ripples through the family in waves.
After everyone’s had their turn, hugging and fussing, I step forward and wrap my arms around her tiny body, fierce in her love and protective of those she cares for. She whispers, “I didn’t do this for him. I did it for you. Whatever you choose next, I believe in you.”
A single tear falls as I meet James’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder.
In that moment, the rest of the room falls away—the relieved chatter, the movement around us, everything.
His gaze holds mine, speaking a language we’ve perfected over years of silence.
He nods, so subtle that anyone else would miss it.
But I catch it, and with it, the promise.
He’ll be there when I’m ready.
“Thank you,” I murmur and step back out of Vera’s embrace.
Mason moves to my side, his hand finding the small of my back.
Despite the way I recoil, he steps closer.
My skin crawls beneath his palm, and I don’t hide my discomfort.
I step out of his reach and cross the room, putting distance between us because if I don’t, I might not be able to resist saying something I can’t take back.
Things are already over, but now is not the time for that conversation.
Relief in the room is palpable, but short-lived.
Ivy’s smile has returned. After a quick inquiry about Vera’s health, she launches into forced chatter about rescheduling the wedding.
Her voice is overly cheerful, too rehearsed, like she can manifest the day back into existence.
But the way she keeps smoothing her dress with shaking hands betrays what her voice won't.
She’s oblivious to the tension radiating from James. The pressure in him is visible, thick and vibrating, building toward the surface.
“Ivy.”
His sharp voice cuts her off mid-sentence.
A moment of panic flashes across his features—clamped mouth, wide eyes.
This outburst, so uncharacteristic, catches everyone off guard, and the room stills.
But I know. After the past few days, after the past few years, James is done.
No more pretending. No more carefully constructed facades.
As much as he hates hurting people, there is no more room for indirectness.
Even if this conversation was never meant to happen tonight, it’s going to.
“Can we take a walk?”
Ivy’s face crumples. But she grabs her jacket and drags herself out the door.
We all stay frozen, processing what we witnessed. The careful politeness that’s held this family together for years is finally cracking open.
Margaret smooths her dress with trembling hands. Gary studies his whiskey as if it holds answers. Jules stares at the door they left through. Vera and Darrell shift uncomfortably.
Mason makes the first move. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
I meet his gaze directly. “Do what you want. Anna and I will leave when I’m ready.”
“I’m not dumb, Sydney.” His hand reaches out, grasping my arm. His voice is low and threatening. “Don’t think I’ve missed what’s happening. I’m not going to let you tear our family apart.”
“Mason, take your hand off me right now.” I lower my voice, matching the venom in his.
My breath doesn’t catch, my fingers don’t tremble, because I’m done with letting him tell me what to do. We’ll deal with this back in D.C.
“Good night, everyone,” Vera calls, discreetly looking to exit before Ivy returns.
“Vera, can we talk about the shelter quickly?” I call after her, leaving Mason to stew.
She pauses and turns with a smile that’s gentle but knowing. “Of course.”
We walk toward the far wall. I’d rather speak in the sunroom or on the back deck, but there’s no subtle way to slip off. And this won’t take long.
“Today’s been... a lot,” I say, managing to share a small smile. “We don’t have to get into details. But I’m starting my own family law practice. I want to give as much time as I can to the shelter.” I lower my voice. “It’s time I began living the life I want.”
She doesn’t speak, only pulls me into a hug. When she steps back, her eyes glisten. “Call me when you’re ready.”
“I’ve already sent my resignation letter. I’m not waiting to get started.”
“Good. And remember this strength. Your worthiness. When you do the rest.” Her eyes flick to Mason.
“I will. I know now what I deserve. And what Anna deserves.”
“Take the time you need. Everything else will be there when you’re ready.” Her eyes hold mine, urging me to read between what she doesn’t say.
Anna pulls at my sweater to be picked up. She leans her head against my shoulder. “Bye-bye, Miss Vera.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Vera kisses Anna’s cheek, then mine, and rejoins Darrell.
“Mama, I tired.”
“Okay, Bug. Let’s get you into PJs.”
Once Anna drifts off in our quiet room, serenity settles like the first snow of winter. I lie beside her, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her breath, the smile still playing on her lips even in sleep. I trace the curve of her cheek, smoothing her hair back from her face.
While I’ve stumbled through these years, making choices that felt impossible and mistakes that felt inevitable, she’s been my constant—the North Star I kept in focus when I couldn’t see my own path.
She’s happy. She’s loved. She has the childhood I dreamed of giving her—and somehow, despite everything, I kept that promise.
This next chapter, uncertain as it is, holds the promise of a new dawn.
We’ll go home in the morning.
Not to what it was, but to something entirely our own.