Chapter Thirty-Six
Lilavati
Mum approaches me as I climb off the bus at the Pineapple Chapel.
“Lili …”
I just can’t. There’s no doubt it was Warren who engineered this whole situation, but my mother let it happen.
Once again, she chose to stand by Warren without thinking about the impact on me.
One day, perhaps I’ll be able to look back and realise he did me a favour, but right now there’s no way in hell I can speak to either of them.
Because maybe there’s truth in what Warren said, and maybe there isn’t. But the cruel, gloating, spiteful way he delivered the blow was unforgivable. And Mum said nothing.
I hold up a hand and take a step back. “We don’t have anything to say to one another.”
Mum looks stricken, but compared to the emotional bloodbath that’s going on inside me, I can’t bring myself to care.
Out of nowhere, Louise grabs my elbow and drags me away to the relative privacy of some tropical hedging.
“Where’s Ant?” she asks, although it’s clear from her horrified expression that she’s got some idea of what’s gone on.
“I don’t know.” I’m proud of the way the words don’t wobble. The way I don’t choke halfway through the short sentence. Because it feels like there’s a massive bubble of tears stuck in my throat, ready to burst.
“Your grandmother told Mum that Warren found out something bad about him and confronted you with it. Grandie is stuck with the Bride from Hell but sent me to check on you. And to tell you to keep your heart open, if that makes sense. Do you want to talk about it?”
Grandie’s unexpected compassion causes those tears to inch closer. “No.”
“Okay. Well, I’ve got your back. I can run interference with your parents.” Louise tucks an arm through mine, patting my hand. “And if you want my opinion, don’t believe everything Warren says. Anyone can see Ant is crazy about you.”
If only he hadn’t damned himself with his own words.
If only I could find the courage to believe I’m worth the fight.
Louise and I hang back in the shadow of the hedge until the last minute, then sneak into the back row of the chairs arranged to take advantage of the spectacular view.
Which you would think is enough to appreciate.
But less is not more as far as Emily is concerned, and a massive arbour, weighed down with what looks like hundreds of flowers and satin bows, obscures half the view.
As do the five bridesmaids, all in varying shades of a dull, dusty pink that might be seen as elegant in a ballroom under crystal chandeliers but looks entirely wrong against the vibrant grass and the bright, glittering blue of the sea.
Emily hasn’t thought through her wardrobe. Her mermaid style dress has a massive, layered tulle train that collects all the rose petals that have been scattered in front of her as she wobbles down the carpet between the chairs, making it look like the brush on a street sweeper.
I wonder if her dress was fitted before her last boob job because they’re perilously close to popping out of the sheer lace of her bodice.
She also hasn’t reckoned with the afternoon breeze up here.
Hair and tulle are whipping around her face and shoulders, catching in her eyelash extensions and sticking to her lipstick.
After the ceremony, during which multiple soppy poems are read by various friends in increasingly over-the-top outfits, champagne and canapes circulate amongst the guests while the bridal party disappears for photos.
Louise snags a bottle of champagne from behind the bar—have I mentioned how much I like this girl?—and we find a low stone wall to sit on. Away from the other guests, and most importantly, away from my parents.
“Hmm. We might need another bottle,” she mutters as she fills my glass for the second time. “Are you ready to talk about it now?”
“Yes. No. Actually, yes.” Mei gave me her take, but she’s never met Ant. Louise might have a different perspective.
She rolls her hand for me to start. So I do. I tell her everything, right up to my conversation with Mei. It all comes pouring out, along with a few sobs and tears, which she mops up as I go. She’s a good listener. She doesn’t even interrupt to clarify.
When I sputter to a finish, Louise sits silent for a long moment.
“It was fake?”
“That’s what you took from all that?” I wouldn’t have believed it possible given the circumstances, but I laugh.
“Sweetheart, I saw the way you looked at each other on that dance floor the first night. There was nothing fake about that.” She fans her face as though to cool herself down.
“But Warren—”
Louise holds up a hand.
“I’m going to stop you right there and say your friend Mei is right.”
She pauses for me to interrupt, but I’ve got nothing, so she continues. “I don’t know you well enough to say if this is self-sabotage, but I can see you’re holding on to this narrative Warren spun very tightly. Why are you determined to believe the worst?”
“I’m not.” But even I can hear my voice is uncertain.
I square my shoulders. “It’s a moot point anyway.
It was going to end when we left Hawaii, so what’s the use of prolonging the agony?
At least this way, I walk away with my pride intact.
And he doesn’t have to make up an excuse as to why he needs to break up with me. ”
“What has he said or done that makes you think he’s going to break up with you?”
“Oh, come on. You’ve met us. He’s lovely and charming and interesting. And I’m … not. This whole thing is for the best. At least this way I’m giving him an out.” Saying it’s for the best and truly believing it are not the same thing. But maybe if I say it enough, it will become true.
“Excuse me?” she all but screeches, jumping up from her seat on the wall and planting her hands on her hips. “There is so much wrong with that … argh!” She spins in a circle, shaking her head before visibly attempting to calm herself.
“Okay. I’m not even going to dignify that bullshit about you not being worthy with a response.
What I will say is, how dare you? How dare you think it’s your right to decide for Ant what he wants and how he feels?
That man put aside his life and travelled to a horrendous wedding for you.
The very least you owe him is an honest conversation. ”
I feel like a landed fish, flapping around at the bottom of a boat, gasping for air.
I guzzle what’s left in my glass and hold it out for more. Louise obliges before she carries on.
“And if he says he’s done, then you have your answer. But don’t make assumptions. I’d bet Emily’s prenup that’s not how it turns out.”
She’s right.
I need to find him. To give him the chance to explain fully. And to find out how he’s actually feeling. No assumptions.
“What if he’s left? What if he’s packed up and gone back to Sydney?” I need to have this conversation now. I need closure. Or clarity. Regardless of the outcome, I need to know.
“Well, you’re not going to find out sitting here at the overblown wedding of your awful cousin, are you? And if he has, well, you get on a plane and go too. It’s not like you don’t know where to find him.”
Champagne sloshes across my hand as I leap up from the wall.
“Yes. I need to find him.” I shove the glass at her.
“Umm, before you do, you might like to tidy yourself up a little.” Louise waves her hand towards my face. “Come with me. We’ll find the ladies’ room.”