19. Madison
— ? —
Madison
Since the fire my days had been longer than usual, so I barely had any time to catch up with the girls.
So I wasn’t surprised to see the notifications on my phone.
I had three missed calls from Greer and a few from Emery. So I called Greer back immediately.
“Graham proposed last night after Grace fell asleep. Nothing fancy, just the two of us in the living room, and honestly that’s exactly what we wanted.
” Her voice was warm, happy in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time.
“I need you to be my bridesmaid. And before you say anything, yes, Ford is going to be there. Graham already asked him.”
“It’s your wedding, Greer. I can handle being in the same room as him for a few hours.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you’re okay with it.”
“I’m okay with it. I’m happy for you, genuinely happy, and that matters more than whatever awkwardness there might be with Ford.” I wiped my face, surprised to find tears there. “When’s the fitting?”
The fitting was Saturday at a bridal shop in Providence. Emery was already on the platform when I walked in, a seamstress circling her with a pincushion strapped to her wrist.
“Thank God you’re here,” Emery said. “Tell me honestly, do I look like an overstuffed blueberry or is it just the lighting in this place?”
“You look gorgeous and you know it, so stop fishing for compliments.” I dropped my bag on one of the velvet couches and grabbed a glass of champagne. “Where’s the bride?”
“Back room. Wait until you see the dress, you’re going to cry. I already cried twice and I’m not even a crier.”
Greer came out a few minutes later in a column of ivory silk that stopped both of us mid-sentence. It was simple, elegant, nothing like the elaborate gown from the photographs of her first wedding. This one looked like her, like who she’d become.
“Well?” She smoothed her hands over her hips, nervous in a way I rarely saw from her. “Is it too plain?”
“Graham is going to forget how to breathe when he sees you,” Emery said.
“She’s right,” I added. “You look like yourself. That’s the whole point.”
Greer’s eyes went bright with tears and she fanned her face with her hands. “Okay, no more compliments or I’m going to ruin my makeup and the seamstress is going to kill me.” She pointed at the rack of blue dresses along the wall. “Your turn. Try on the one on the end, I think that’s your size.”
We spent the next two hours getting measured and pinned, drinking champagne between fittings, talking about the reception. It felt good to be part of something happy, something that wasn’t about my own mess for once.
“So,” Emery said when we were finally done and settled on the couches with fresh glasses, “are we going to acknowledge the elephant in the room or just keep pretending it doesn’t exist?”
“What elephant?” I asked, though I knew exactly what elephant.
“You and Ford are paired for the processional. And the recessional. And probably the first dance, because bridal party always does a first dance and Greer’s traditional about that stuff even though she pretends she isn’t.”
“I’m right here,” Greer said.
“And you’re not denying it.” Emery turned back to me. “So what’s the plan? Are you going to be civil? Frosty? Pretend he’s a stranger you’ve never met?”
“I’m going to be fine. We’ll walk down the aisle together, stand where we’re told to stand, smile for pictures, and then go our separate ways. It’s one day. I can manage one day.”
“What about after?” Greer asked quietly. “What happens when the wedding’s over and you still have to figure out what you’re doing with the rest of your life?”
“I’m working on that.” I took a long sip of champagne instead of saying anything more.
***
I arrived early for the rehearsal, hoping to get my bearings before Ford showed up, but his car was already in the lot when I pulled in.
I sat in my car for a full minute, giving myself a silent pep talk, then walked inside like I wasn’t dreading every second of what came next.
He was near the altar with Graham, the two of them deep in conversation about something that made Graham laugh.
Ford looked relaxed, comfortable in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. When he glanced up and saw me in the doorway, something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile, but close.
I looked away and found Emery, who was already being positioned by the wedding coordinator.
“Bridesmaid number two,” the coordinator said when she spotted me, checking something off on her clipboard. “You’re paired with the tall one for the processional. Ford, I think his name is? You’ll walk in together, separate at the altar, then pair up again for the recessional. Any questions?”
“None,” I said.
She moved on to the next task and I took my place in the vestibule, waiting.
Ford appeared a few minutes later and stood beside me.
“You look nice,” he said.
“You already said that once. At the last event where we were forced to make small talk.”
“And I meant it both times.” He offered his arm as the coordinator waved us forward. “Ready?”
I took his arm because refusing would cause a scene, and we walked down the aisle together with everyone watching.
His arm was solid under my hand, warm through the fabric of his jacket. I kept my eyes forward and my expression neutral.
He hadn’t shown up since the fire, and I’d been grateful for it then. But now I wished he had. At least this wouldn’t have been so fucking awkward.
When we reached the altar, I let go and moved to Greer’s side, putting the whole width of the church between us.
The rehearsal took forever. The coordinator had opinions about everything, where to stand, how to turn, the precise angle for photographs. By the time she released us for dinner in the church basement, my feet hurt and my patience was worn thin.
I filled a plate with food I wasn’t hungry for and found a table in the corner, hoping for a few minutes of peace before someone cornered me. I should have known better.
Ford appeared with his own plate and sat down across from me like he’d been invited. “You’re hiding.”
“I’m eating.”
“You can do both at the same time. I’ve seen you do it at plenty of events over the years, find the quietest corner and camp out there until it’s acceptable to leave.” He picked up his fork. “I’m not judging. I used to do the same thing at my mother’s parties.”
“How’s your houseguest, by the way?”
He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, then set it down. “She’s gone. I kicked her out weeks ago, right after the divorce finalized. Should have done it the day she showed up, but I was too caught up in my own guilt to see what was happening.”
“And what was happening?”
“Exactly what you said was happening. She wasn’t there because she needed help. The whole thing was orchestrated and I walked right into it like an idiot.” He met my eyes. “You were right about her. About all of it. I’m not going to insult you by pretending otherwise.”
I hadn’t expected him to admit it so plainly.
I’d been ready for deflection, for excuses, the same old arguments about how I was overreacting and being jealous.
“So you finally noticed what everyone else could see from the beginning,” I said. “Congratulations on catching up.”
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“Probably.” He picked up his fork again and took a bite like we were having a normal conversation about normal things. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just telling you what happened.”
“Why?”
“Because you should know. And because I’m tired of you thinking I’m the same person who let her stay in our house while you were telling me something was wrong.” He leaned back in his chair. “I know I can’t undo the damage I did. But I can at least be honest with you now.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t even glance at it.
“You can get that if you need to,” I said.
“I don’t need to. There’s nothing on that phone more important than this conversation.”
“That’s new.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”
I wanted to keep pushing, testing, looking for the cracks in whatever this new version of him was supposed to be.
But he just sat there, not defending himself, or making excuses. Just present.
“Greer needs me for something,” I said, standing up even though she hadn’t called me. “I should go.”
“Of course.” He stood too, because his manners were always impeccable even when everything else was falling apart. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I found Greer in a small room off the main hall, sorting through boxes of decorations. She looked up when I came in and set down the box after one look at me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just needed a minute.”
“You talked to Ford.”
“Briefly.”
“And?”
“And he told me he kicked Valerie out. Weeks ago, apparently. Said I was right about her all along.” I sat down on one of the boxes. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
Greer was quiet for a moment, then she came and sat on the box next to mine. “Can I tell you something? And I need you to actually hear it, not just wait for me to finish so you can argue.”
“That’s ominous.”
“It’s important.” She took a breath. “I almost lost Graham because I believed a lie instead of trusting him. His mother fed me this story about an affair, paid someone to make it look real, and I bought it because it was easier than being vulnerable. I threw away a good man and lost years I’m never getting back. ”
“Greer, that’s different. Ford actually…”
“Ford actually what? Neglected you? Let another woman get too close? Failed to see what was happening until it was too late?” She held up a hand.
“Those are real things and they matter. I’m not telling you to pretend they didn’t happen.
But there’s a difference between a man who betrayed you and a man who made mistakes because he was too blind to see what he had. ”
“He let her live in our house.”
“And that was stupid and wrong and he should have listened to you from the beginning. But he didn’t sleep with her.
He didn’t choose her over you. He just couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
” She reached over and took my hand. “Make sure you’re walking away for the real reasons and not just because staying angry feels safer than figuring out what you actually want. ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means anger is easy. You know where you stand when you’re angry, you don’t have to risk anything, you don’t have to be vulnerable. But safe isn’t the same as right, and I don’t want you to wake up five years from now realizing you made the same mistake I almost made.”
I didn’t have a response to that.
“Think about it,” she said, squeezing my hand. “That’s all I’m asking. Just think about it.”
I drove home with her warning lodged in my chest like a splinter.
It would have been easier if the only danger was wanting Ford’s hands on me again. Physical attraction was simple, manageable, something I could acknowledge and resist. But Greer wasn’t talking about that.
She was talking about something much more frightening.
Because the real danger wasn’t wanting him.
The real danger was starting to believe he might have actually changed.
And I had no idea what to do with that.