Chapter 34 Like Oliver Twist
Like Oliver Twist
Darcy
A hush falls over the chapel as Theo and the officiant wait before an altar adorned in cheerful hydrangea bouquets. We all turn to watch the door, and the wedding party begins a processional down the aisle.
Weddings are so orderly. Everyone walking two by two in time with the music.
Like Noah’s Ark, but in better fabrics. Each man in a gray tux, and each woman in a shade of hydrangea blue.
Isn’t all this perfect synchronization a lie, though?
Am I the only one in this room who knows how fucking messy life really is after the “I dos”?
As the wedding party lines up on each side of the altar, I take a long look at Theo—this near stranger in a pristine tux, with a blue boutonniere and a perfectly shaved face.
I never really wanted to come to this wedding, but I feel weirdly protective toward my brother today.
His expression is so hopeful. Somehow, he’s managed to completely overlook the tragedy of our parents and believe that marriage is still a good idea.
I can see it in his eyes, which, now that I think about it, are disturbingly like my own.
Oh, buddy. What were you thinking?
The music changes again to the wedding march, and we all rise for the grand entrance of the bride.
The chapel doors open again, and there she is.
Maribel appears on Mr. Tremaine’s arm, her dress a simple design in ivory silk that moves like water. She’s carrying a gorgeous bouquet of white roses and lavender.
But it’s not the dress or the flowers that make my throat tighten.
It’s the way she locks gazes with Theo. Her whole face transforms, like someone just handed her the best surprise of her life.
And Theo—my stoic brother—presses a hand to his chest, like he’s trying to keep his heart from bursting right out of his body.
Maribel moves toward him on the steady, inevitable pulse of the music. Eleven years ago, she buried her first love. That could have broken anyone. But nope. Now she’s walking down this aisle in front of all these people, betting everything on the possibility of forever.
I watch her take each careful step toward my brother with absolute certainty on her face, and my cynical little heart is about to crack in two.
God, maybe there’s something to this whole marriage thing after all.
Maybe.
At the front of the room, Mr. Tremaine kisses her on the cheek and seats himself beside Patty Tremaine, who’s managing to keep her smile. And then Maribel and Theo are facing each other as the officiant begins the ceremony.
The opening bits wash over me—something about love and commitment and blah-blah-blah the sacred bonds of matrimony.
There’s a song and a poem. But then the officiant says, “Theo and Maribel have written their own vows,” and suddenly I’m paying attention again.
Because this is where weddings get real.
Where people either phone it in with Pinterest quotes or bare their souls in front of everyone they know.
Theo goes first, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket with shaking hands.
“Maribel,” he begins, his voice steadier than I expected. “Before I met you, I had a poor idea of what love looked like. I thought it was supposed to be dramatic and all-consuming and possibly destructive.”
Oh. So Theo has been paying attention.
Theo glances at his notes, then back up at her.
“But you taught me that real love is quiet mornings and shared values and someone who sees all your flaws and chooses to stay anyway. It isn’t about finding someone to complete you—it’s about finding someone who makes you want to be the best version of yourself. ”
Beside me, Eric slips his hand into mine and squeezes.
My eyes get suddenly hot, and I force myself to swallow.
Eric’s thumb caresses my palm, and I realize a huge flaw with this silly little plan.
The problem with attending a family wedding with Eric Tremaine is that I actually have to sit through a family wedding with Eric Tremaine.
My ideal man. While I bleed loneliness and confusion from every pore.
Then my brother’s voice cracks slightly. “I know you’ve been in love before, but I haven’t. Thank you for teaching me how it’s done. I’m honored to be the one who gets to hold your hand when you’re scared, and celebrate with you when you’re happy, and build something new and wonderful with you.”
He folds the paper carefully. “I promise to love you exactly as you are and to grow old with you. I promise to always put hot sauce on your eggs the way you like them and to never judge you for crying at dog videos.”
Maribel laughs through her tears, and half the chapel chuckles with her.
“Most of all, I promise to never take your choice for granted. Out of all the possibilities in the world, you picked me to love. That’s the greatest gift I’ve ever received, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”
Oh, Theo. I hope you really do.
After the wedding, there’s a swirl of photographs. Eric and I wait dutifully on the sidelines until we’re each summoned for shots of the extended family. I watch the photographer compose a shot of Maribel with the three Tremaines, and all of them smile warmly when asked to say cheese.
No migraine for Eric today, seeing as his family is behaving. I’m counting it as a win.
And then there’s a Randolph picture, too. My father and his wife are at the center, their arms around their twins. And me on the fringes, like always.
After that, I end up standing beside my father while they compose a shot of Theo and his mother together, with Kandi straightening his bow tie.
“Is the pageantry wearing thin, or is it just me?” my father whispers. “I hope they’re feeding us soon.”
“I’m pretty sure they will,” I whisper back. “But I nibbled on the Diamond Member snacks as a fail-safe. Marcona almonds today. I always enjoy those.”
He grins at me. “I’m glad you take advantage of the Diamond Member perks. Just keep that to yourself. You’re the only one I’m willing to break the rules for.”
I play that sentence back in my head, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”
“The Diamond thing,” he says, watching the photographer work. “Every year I go in and upgrade your account manually, or else it would knock you back a few tiers.”
I blink. “Wait, you do that?”
He turns to me with a look of confusion. “Of course. You’d need more hotel stays than Taylor Swift to hit Diamond otherwise. You won’t take actual cash from me, so this is just me trying to spoil you a little, when you let me.”
I lean against the chapel building, stunned. “I… I appreciate it.” Honestly, the concept of my father even remembering to do this for me once a year is sort of a shocker.
“Your college fund is also still sitting there, by the way,” he says, even as I’m trying to process our conversation. “Just earning interest.”
“My… college fund?”
“Yeah, it’s in savings bonds,” he repeats, “for the tax savings. But it’s just waiting there. Maybe you’ll end up using it to buy a house or something.”
Now I’m reeling. “Dad, I didn’t know. It’s just sitting there?”
“Of course.” He turns to me. “We both know your mother’s opinion about taking money from me.
But you’re still my daughter. Every child support payment went into the trust. And then your tuition money.
The statements might still go to your mother’s address, now that I think about it.
But the entire trust fund is legally yours and unrestricted at this point. ”
“Both of Theo’s parents now!” calls the photographer.
My father squeezes my shoulder and walks off to have his photo taken once again. And I watch him go, feeling deeply confused.
“You okay?” Eric asks, appearing at my shoulder. “I only heard part of that, but it sounded intense.”
I look up at him, and those clear gray eyes gobsmack me like always. “Apparently, I have a trust fund. I’m… a trust fund baby.”
He gives me a worried smile. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head.
“Remind me—how old were you when your father left?”
“Thirteen. My mother said she’d never take a dime from him.”
“Okay, but…” Eric holds out a plate. “First of all, I snuck into the cocktail hour and got appetizers. I was channeling you. So have a couple of mini potato skins with bacon and chives.”
“Ooh!” I say automatically, reaching for one.
“… So, you’re thirteen, and your mother decides to go it alone, right?
But maybe your dad still understood his obligation.
I mean—I’m not the guy’s number one fan.
” He glances toward my father, who’s grinning for the photo.
“But you were a child, Darcy. He wasn’t about to cut you off like Oliver Twist.”
“I guess.” I think back to that awful time and my mother’s rage. Money wasn’t the first thing on my mind.
“Did she let you choose?” he asks gently. “Did your mom let you decide if you wanted your dad’s help?”
“Sort of? It felt like my choice at the time. I guess.” But I was thirteen. I thought UGG boots were hip, and Justin Bieber was cute.
He offers me the plate again. “Your dad behaved like a selfish asshole. There’s no denying it. And he has a pathological need to avoid conflict. But he’s still looking out for you in his own weird way.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “He also told me that my Diamond membership is all his doing. But that I shouldn’t tell anyone, because he’s not supposed to set me up for a lifestyle of free grapes and cheese in my hotel rooms.”
“I had a feeling,” he says, munching a mini potato skin.
“I’m so confused,” I admit. “I don’t know what to think. But at least I now know I can afford these shoes.” I kick one heel into the air. “They were a splurge.”
Eric looks admiringly at my legs. “I hope they’re comfortable enough to dance in. I think you owe it to your date.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”