Chapter 36
SAGE
The church, St. Dunstan’s in Old Fleet, is all worn stone and stained glass, towering so beautifully among the quaint Fleet stone cottages at its feet, that in a way, it reminds me of Grayfleet’s gothic twin.
My father waits at the entrance, checking his watch. “You’re on time. Good. Do I need to remind you not to ruin this deal, Sage?”
“Of course not, Father.” The promise comes out automatically.
Though I’m not that girl anymore, his dutiful daughter who has never known a man. If only he knew just how much I’m already ruined.
We enter through the side door, which leads to the bride’s waiting room, small but beautifully arranged, with lavender flowers and white roses entwined and draped everywhere. I’m alone at first, and that’s when the doubt creeps back in.
What if Troy doesn’t show?
What if last night was goodbye?
But then my mother appears, dressed in champagne silk, with an oyster shawl, hair in its usual sleek chignon, her critical gaze sweeping over me like I’m used to.
“You look nice. Remember to smile, and keep your shoulders back. No slouching, or you’ll look like the hunchback of Notre Dame in the wedding videos.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. She would always say they’d stick like that if I’m not careful.
“Is he here?” The question bursts out before I can stop it.
Uncertainty flickers in her expression. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
But I’m not sure, and after she’s gone, I sit and wait, wondering why I’m even bothering.
I wish I could call him, but the stylist made me leave my phone back at Grayfleet. Apparently, a phone is not needed when one is getting married. He also never officially gave me his number, and calling him would show that I care.
And I shouldn’t.
The officiant knocks. “Five minutes, Miss Lovett.”
“Is the groom—”
“Not yet, but I’m sure he’s just running late.”
Five minutes. He could still get here in five minutes. There’s still time.
I find myself staring at my reflection in the small mirror at the bride who’s waited her whole life to feel seen. Last night, Troy saw me in the darkness, and even under the bed. And he didn’t pull away.
And now I won’t either.
Not because my father arranged it, but because I want it.
Even knowing who Troy is, what he’s done, what he’s truly capable of….I want him, darkness and all. Tied to that chair with his razor at my throat, I should have been horrified. And I was. But underneath the fear was something else that recognized his darkness and whispered, It’s always been him.
Not my sister’s voice this time either.
Mine.
For the first time, I know what I want. And I want to tell him that.
That I choose him and this marriage, even if it’s insane, even if everyone would say I’m making a terrible mistake.
I don’t want this to be a fake wedding anymore.
I want it to be real. But I’m so nervous that he won’t show. What if I don’t get the chance?
Another knock makes me jump.
“It’s time, Miss Lovett.”
My father appears, offering his arm. “Are you ready?”
I stand and take it, peering into the church. “Is he here?”
“I have no idea.” And his awkward hold on my arm makes me feel even sicker in my stomach. “Come on. Everybody’s waiting for you. We’re not going to be the ones to break this damn deal.”
The nausea follows me through the doorway and into the main chapel. Then the organ starts with that traditional wedding march, the guests all stand, and everybody looks.
Yet, all I feel is dread.
And as I look toward the altar where I’m supposed to meet my future husband…
It’s empty.
No groom is there waiting.
Just the officiant looking uncomfortable, and Mr. Mundel standing there as best man, with fifty faces staring at me with pity.
I stop moving.
“Sage.” My father’s grip on my arm tightens, his finger digging in. “You need to keep walking.”
“But he’s not here.”
“He’s probably just late. Now keep walking. Don’t embarrass me.”
“No.” I start to back away. There’s no point. I don’t need to walk down the aisle to see he’s not coming.
People start to whisper. My mother’s face goes ashen white, and that’s when the officiant clears his throat. “Perhaps we should wait a moment. Start again in a few minutes.”
“Yes. We’ll wait.” My voice sounds so small, not like mine at all. Like the old me, not the new one Troy has bled into existence.
I pull away from my father and retreat to the bride’s room.
The whispers grow louder outside, swelling into a chatter that I can hear through the door.
And then my mother is standing in the room with me, her brow slightly furrowed.
Looking at me like she doesn’t know what to say.
My father appears behind her, his jaw clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack.
“Where the fuck is he? Why is he embarrassing us like this?”
But I have nothing to say to him.
I’m sitting there in my white dress, holding my bouquet limply in my hands, knowing that he’s not coming.
“Sage.” The officiant’s voice is gentle as he steps into the small room, making it feel smaller, as airless as a crypt. “Perhaps we should—”
“He’s not coming.” The words taste like dead things.
“There’s probably an explanation,” my mother starts.
But there isn’t. Not one I want to hear anyway, because the explanation is simple—he doesn’t want me.
He told me to leave when I first arrived at Grayfleet and tried to get me to go, but I wouldn’t. And then I begged him to use me. I literally offered myself to him on a plate and let him take me, fuck me, and open up parts of me I’ve always been afraid of.
And he took it all.
And then he decided it wasn’t enough.
That I wasn’t enough.
“I n-need to go.” My voice splinters. “Excuse me.”
I push through my parents, the bouquet falling from my cold fingers as I hurry past pitying faces, out of the church, through the side door, and into the light. Then I stand there in the church’s graveyard, feeling the sun on my face, hearing birds sing, and trying to remember how to breathe.
It’s actually a lovely day.
But the sun doesn’t warm me. And the birds don’t make me smile.
I don’t know how long I stand there.
People filter out around me. I can hear car doors shutting, engines starting. The church empties of everyone who came to witness one of the most eligible bachelors get married off, but instead had a front row to my humiliation.
Laine’s jasmine scent is in my nose before I see her.
She comes up beside me. Tears prick my eyes as her arms come around me, and she hugs me.
I go limp in her hold, smothering my face in her not-so-soft polyester dress that’s most likely made from recycled beer cans, but it makes me love her all the more for it.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. They wouldn’t let me in to see you,” she says, stroking my hair with a sigh.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. What a shit show. Fuck that man, you’re coming back to mine after this.”
I nod, that’s all I can do.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I sense my mother coming up behind us.
For once, she’s quiet, and when I pull away from Laine to look at her, all she does is wrap her woolen shawl over my shoulders, taking the chill off my bare arms. I’m reminded of the mother she was before dad hurt her so bad, twisting her into this cold, unfeeling thing.
But it’s not enough to soften the words out of her mouth.
“Come on. We’re leaving.”
“No.” I exhale, trying not to shiver. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m going with Laine.”
It’s probably the first time I’ve ever stood up to her. Yay for me. But that’s because I’m done. There is no more Nice Sage. She’s gone.
Laine takes a step in front of me and takes my hand, but she doesn’t say anything, for which I’m grateful. This is my fight.
“This family has been embarrassed beyond reason,” my mother says tightly, shooting a look at my friend. “Now you need to get yourself together and come home.”
I give a bitter laugh. “I have no home.”
Because it’s true. I don’t.
I’d started to see Grayfleet as my home. But now I don’t even have that.
After a while of standing there, she gives up and leaves. I stay in the churchyard with Laine, staring at nothing except the leaves at my feet, watching them stick to my dress and satin shoes, and stain me with mud.
Why didn’t he come?
Why did he leave me standing at that altar? But the answer keeps circling back to the same place, that he doesn’t want me. He’s never wanted me, and nothing’s changed. He doesn’t want me the way I want him.
I’m the wrong sister.
And I’ll never be the right one.
Kathy comes at some point and asks what I want to do, while Laine rubs my arms through the woolen shawl as though bringing me back to life.
“I need to get my things.” I turn to Laine. “Can I come to yours after I’m done?”
Laine gives me a gentle smile, as if I might break, and nods. “You don’t even have to ask. Do you want me to come with you to pack?”
I shake my head. This is something I have to do alone. Laine nods as though she understands, but I haven’t updated her on everything yet, or even asked her if she’d done a pregnancy test. When I get back to her house, we’ll have a good debrief.
I tell Laine as much, and then I have to go before I change my mind.
“I’ll take care of her,” Kathy says to Laine and guides me to where Pete is waiting with the car idling. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
I want to tell her that Grayfleet’s not my home anymore. But I don’t have it in me to protest, so I let them drive me to the dock.
The boat ride across the lake is serene and calm, and for once, the rippling water below me when I stare down into its depths doesn’t make me want to throw up. In the distance, Grayfleet towers, still standing, like a nightmare calling me home.