58. Vivienne
Vivienne
“They’re gone,” I announce as I walk into the library and sink onto the sofa next to Shep. “Thank god.”
Watching my parents disappear down the driveway was the equivalent of dropping a load of shopping bags onto the floor after carrying them for hours. Pure relief courses through my veins. They’re heading back to the city to “control the fallout” from my decision—their words, not mine.
Shep drapes his arm around me and pulls my head onto his shoulder. “You were amazing.”
“I was legitimately scared your dad was going to have a heart attack,” Marlowe says, plucking the petals off a bouquet of orchids. “I’ve never seen his face so red before.”
Before they left, both of my parents tried to get me to change my mind. It didn’t work, and my friends got to witness their humiliation firsthand.
“Maybe next time we’ll get lucky and it’ll explode.
” Bash flops into the chair near the fireplace with a bag of Skwinkles.
He was on the phone until a minute ago, but I have no idea who he was talking to.
It could be another girl, but the way his eyes keep flitting to Briar every couple of seconds tells me probably not.
She’s browsing the bookcase and softly humming to herself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she isn’t even aware Bash is in the room, but her hands are tucked into the sleeves of the Gucci sweatshirt I bought him, and I’ve been around her enough to know that means she’s nervous.
“I appreciate you all sticking around,” I say, rolling my neck to get the knots out. Shep’s warm fingers curl around it and knead the muscles. “At least he couldn’t kill me with witnesses.”
Bash snorts, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “He’s not going to kill you. He’d be the first suspect.”
My confrontation with my father was one of the scariest moments of my life. I didn’t back down, and I’ve never been prouder of myself for anything before, not even winning the national championship with Rhya.
“‘Lord Wilson on trial for murder,’” Sutton muses from the other couch. “It has a nice ring to it.”
There are a lot of things my father could legitimately be on trial for, not that any of it would stick. My mind immediately goes back to the night of the accident, but even that wouldn’t be enough to put him behind bars, not when he has that much money and power.
Marlowe tosses a flower at her head. “You realize you’re talking about Viv being dead, right?”
Sutton leans her head over the arm of the sofa and winks at me. “I’m just kidding, babe.”
I blow her a kiss, then push to my feet. “I should see if the caterers need any more help.”
“No offense,” Marlowe says, “but I’m pretty sure you’re more of a hindrance than a help.”
I shoot her an offended look. “I can’t just sit here. This is my mess, and I should be cleaning it up.”
“We’ll help you.” Briar slides her book back onto the shelf and turns to me. “Just tell us what to do.”
“No, you guys head back. I need some time to clear my head,” I say.
“You sure?” she asks. “It won’t take long if we all pitch in.”
“Don’t volunteer me for anything other than rotting in front of the TV,” Marlowe calls. “I am dead on my feet.”
“You’ve literally done nothing.” Sutton’s thumbs fly across her phone as she sends a text.
Marlowe hurls another orchid at her. “I don’t see you jumping up to scrub the floors.”
“No one’s scrubbing anything,” I say. “Please go home. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. The new Grand Theft Auto is calling my name.” Bash slaps his knees and stands. His eyes flicker to Briar.
She knots her fingers together and scans the room. “Does anyone mind giving me a lift? I hired a car to get here.”
“I’ll take you home,” Bash says, looking hurt that she thought she had to ask.
Briar bites her lip. “I’m not sure—”
“You can ride with me,” Shep says, getting to his feet. Bash shoots him a glare, but Shep ignores him. “I’m ready to go whenever.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” Tugging her sweatshirt down over the dress she wore for the wedding, Briar grabs her bag and gives me another hug. “I’m sorry you had to go through everything.”
“It’s my own fault.” I’m so grateful for her support when I told my mum. “I should’ve done it much sooner.”
She pulls back and gives me a grim smile. “Better late than never, right?”
As she moves to follow Shep out the door, Bash stops her with a hand on her arm. “Are you actually going with him?”
Briar frowns. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah, I do.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I offered you a ride first.”
“Don’t be such a baby, Bash,” I say, squeezing his shoulders from behind. “Maybe she doesn’t want to spend an hour in the car with you.”
Briar shoots me a grateful smile. “Let’s grab brunch when you’re up for it,” she tells me.
“That would be great.” I wave as she and Shep leave the room.
After they’re gone, Bash whirls on me. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Do what? Accept an invitation to brunch?” I start collecting plates from the coffee table. We demolished nearly half the hors d’oeuvres in the hour since the wedding was supposed to happen.
“Practically send her into Shep’s arms,” Bash says, pointing to the door.
I roll my eyes and dump the trash into a bag. “I did nothing of the sort.”
Sutton sits up and brushes crumbs from her skirt. She changed out of her bridesmaid’s dress before I’d even told my dad the wedding was off. “Briar’s a grown woman, Bash. She can make her own decisions.”
“Whose side are you on?” he asks.
“I’m on my side, and right now, I desperately want to get home. So if your offer of a ride still stands, I’ll take you up on it. I’m not Briar, but my playlists are better.”
“Absolutely not,” Marlowe says as she gets up from the floor. “I have dibs on the playlist.”
Sutton turns to scowl at her. “How do you figure?”
“Because I rode here with him. You’ll be in the back seat.” Snapping her gum, Marlowe slides her bag over her shoulder and drops a kiss on my cheek. “See you at home.”
“Why the fuck didn’t one of you ride with Shep?” Bash mutters. “Now the two of them are alone together.”
“You sure you’re going to be okay here?” Sutton asks me.
“I’m sure.” Right now, I just need everyone to leave so I can breathe again. I wish I could take Rhya out, but I’ll have to settle for Blaze. Our ride this morning did wonders. Maybe I’ll cure cancer next time.
Sutton glances up from her phone and gives me a funny little smile. “Just don’t use my bedroom, okay?” She gives me a quick hug and walks out to fight Marlowe over Bash’s front seat.
Frowning at her retreating back, I shake my head. “Why would I use her bedroom?”
“It’s Sutton. You can’t expect her to make sense,” Bash asks. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
I sigh. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I wasn’t the one who got dumped.”
“You’re right. Maybe I’ll go check on him instead.”
I slap his arm. “Don’t you dare.” Landon headed back to the city minutes after I told him the wedding was off, and if we never have to see each other again, it’ll be too soon for me.
Bash laughs and rubs his bicep. “Kidding. But if you get lonely, give me a call, okay?”
“Why? You won’t answer,” I deadpan.
“Fair, but you can try. It’s the thought that counts, after all.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Shrugging, he sticks his hands in his pockets. “What am I going to do about Briar?”
I set down the bag of trash I’m still holding. “I’m not sure there’s much you can do. You really hurt her. A wound like that is going to take time to heal.”
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“She was still wearing your sweatshirt,” I say, raising a brow.
“You wear Cass’s stuff all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I blink at him and clear my throat. “Right. Well, you just have to give her time and space.”
“I can’t stop thinking about her.” His eyes go soft with desperation. “What am I going to do, Viv?”
Placing both hands on his shoulders, I turn him toward the exit. “Right now, you’re going to leave.”
“You’re a terrible therapist.”
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I watch him walk to the door. The second he’s out of the room, I collapse onto the sofa.
It felt weird not having Cass here, but I haven’t allowed myself to think about him since reading his note.
Now that everything’s over, I wonder what he’s doing.
I should text or call him, let him know the wedding was canceled, but I just can’t do it.
It feels as if there’s a mountain between us, and I have no idea if he still wants to be with me or not.
He could’ve decided I was too much work, or worse—he could once again be thinking he couldn’t possibly be enough for me.
Despite a million unanswered questions, I feel lighter than I have in months. The damage between Cass and me might be irreparable, but at least I won’t have to suffer it while being married to Landon.
I deposit the rubbish bag in the kitchen so the cleaning staff can deal with it, then thank the caterers once more for handling the leftover food. They’re taking it back to the city to donate to several shelters downtown.
The foyer and staircase are still draped with bouquets of orchids, lilies, and all the other flowers my mother deemed necessary for a wedding, the scent of them permeating every room of the house.
The only way to escape it is to drive away.
The decorating crew was already scheduled to return tomorrow to remove everything, and there didn’t seem to be a need to have them come back sooner.
Until then, it’ll just look like a flower shop threw up in here.
I’m not sure what my plans are for the rest of the evening.
Part of me wants to head back to the city after my ride and spend the rest of the night on Bash’s couch, watching the guys battle each other in a video game.
But Cass will probably be there, and I don’t know how to be in the same room as him yet.
Another part of me wants to spend the night at Belgrave.
The kitchen staff will be done soon, and it’ll just be me again.
The whole time I was here, I never got to truly enjoy it.
I was too busy with wedding plans to do the things I really wanted to, like exploring the edges of the park, wandering through the forest, and spending an entire day in the library with a book as the rain beat against the windows.
Fortunately, there’s no rush to decide anything. There’s no one waiting for me back home, and for the first time in forever, I can truly do what I want.
After slipping out of my wedding gown earlier, I pulled on a navy sweater and a pair of satin Hermes trousers.
Now, I toe on a pair of sneakers and skip back downstairs, eager to get into the saddle and ride like mad.
I hope Blaze is up for stretching his legs, because I am aching to put miles between this place and myself.
Everywhere I look, remnants of the wedding that didn’t happen mock me.
The roar of a car engine greets me as I open the front door. At first, I wonder if one of the guests forgot something and is returning for it, but the longer I listen, the more familiar the sound becomes. I’ve heard that exact rumble more times than I can count.
Wiping my hands on my pants, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. I wasn’t expecting to talk to him today, certainly not at this moment. I was going to prepare what to say to him on the hour-long drive back home. Now I’ve got thirty seconds to think of something.
Cass’s silver Mazda crests the hill, and my pulse picks up speed. It’s only been a few hours since I last saw him, but it feels more like a year. As I wait, my body aches with the need to set eyes on him, to smell his masculine scent, to feel his arms crushing me against his chest.
He parks haphazardly in front of the house and kills the engine. Several seconds pass, and my brain fills them with all kinds of worst-case scenarios.
He’s upset that you canceled the wedding after you told him you wouldn’t. He doesn’t know you’re still here, and he doesn’t want to see you. He’s moved on.
Finally, his door opens, and he climbs out.
The second he appears on the other side of the car, I fight the urge to run down the steps and throw myself into his arms. I imagine the way he’d stumble back but ultimately catch me, because Cass would never let me fall.
I imagine how scratchy his sweatshirt would feel beneath my cheek if I pressed my face into it.
I imagine the weight of his hand cradling the back of my head.
The sound of the car door slamming echoes across the heath, pulling me back to reality.
Cass rounds the vehicle, and I catch my first full glimpse of him since I stuck my head in the drawing room earlier.
He’s wearing a gray crewneck and black running shorts, the large tattoo on his right thigh peeking out beneath the hem.
His Nikes crunch on the gravel as he approaches me, hands in his pockets. My heart is racing faster than Rhya on her best day, and I remind myself that this is only Cassian. There’s no reason to be nervous.
He stops at the bottom of the steps, and our eyes meet. His are dark and stormy, his thoughts hidden from view like always. I ache to know what he’s thinking, but I’m too scared to ask.
When I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out is “Hi.”
“Hey.” His low tone sparks something deep inside me. “I heard you didn’t get married.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I didn’t.”
He moves onto the first step, his movements slow and calculated. My lips part as he takes another step, my pulse racing like a wild stallion. “Why not?” he says, climbing onto the third step. One more, and I can reach out and touch him.
“You know why,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I want to hear you say it.”