40. Finally Done
FINALLY DONE
ANNELISA
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD
This wedding feels like it will never end. I have spent the last eight hours with a fake smile plastered on my face, and I’m ready to drop. And we haven’t even made it to the reception yet.
“I am so over posing for photos,” Jake grumbles, handing me a bottle of champagne from the esky in the back of the limo to pour myself a glass.
Jake, Bri, Will and I are all gathered together, watching Chris and Morgan pose for what feels like a thousand photos. We’ve just finished the ones with the full bridal party, and had thought it was over, but that was apparently just the warmup. So now, we’ve resorted to drinking to pass the time.
“There isn’t enough alcohol in the esky for this,” Bri says, downing her own glass of champagne in one gulp.
The pair of them have been acting strange around each other all afternoon, and if I wasn’t so caught up in my own stuff, I’d be wondering what was going on.
But frankly, I’m struggling to find the energy to care about the wedding at all, let alone the weirdness between the best man and maid of honour.
Will takes the bottle from me and pours his own glass. “When we eventually do this, please, for the love of all that is holy, can we skip this part?”
I freeze as the panic sets in. So many times in the past few months, Will has brought up how we will do things when it’s our turn to get married.
And every time, it’s felt like another nail in the coffin, reminding me that this man deserves so much better than me.
Someone who wants the same life he does, with a wedding and babies and all the things society tells us we’re supposed to have…
All the things I’m not ready for and not entirely sure that I ever will be, even if it turns out the doctors were wrong.
I see the concerned look that Jake and Bri exchange, while Will cocks his head to the side while he studies my expression. I’m saved from responding, however, when the photographer finally declares that we’re done with the photos, and we all voice our relief before piling back into the limo.
On the drive to the reception, Will squeezes my hand, leaning close to brush his lips against my temple.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, my smile so tight it’s hurting my cheeks. “Yep, I’m fine. Just hungry,” I reply, lying through my teeth.
I’m not fine. I haven’t been fine for months. The black pit of depression I’ve fallen into has started to swallow me whole, and I have no idea how to pull myself out of it. So I continue to push through each day and pretend I’m not drowning.
Because that is what I’m doing. Drowning.
And every night that I lie awake next to the man I love, who is too perfect for words, wondering how long it will be before he works out that the girl he loved has disappeared entirely.
Will doesn’t seem completely placated by my response, but nods and turns to answer Morgan when she asks him a question .
I just need to make it through this day.
I can’t have my best friend’s wedding ruined by my issues.
Because although I don’t want this for myself, this is all she’s ever wanted.
She’s been in love with Chris since we were in primary school, and I so wish I could share this joy with her.
But it’s taking every ounce of my strength not to fall apart.
The urge to run away from everything has grown more powerful each day, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight it much longer.
So I just need to keep going for Morgan… and worry about my future once this is all over.
After dinner, Jake and Bri both give their speeches, and there isn’t a dry eye amongst those watching on. Except me, of course. I’m too numb to cry. It’s also pretty obvious that they heavily coded both their speeches with whatever subtext is going on between them.
“If those two don’t end up going home together, it will be a complete shock,” Will says quietly, sitting beside me with his arm draped along the back of my chair at the bridal table.
“Yeah. I think they’ve gone beyond hiding their feelings now,” I reply, downing another glass of wine.
I should probably slow down on the alcohol, but I’m not sure I’ll make it through the rest of the night without it. I’ve been reaching for the wine a fair bit this week… Just another coping mechanism.
Tara, in her role as the Master of Ceremonies, announces that it’s time for the first dance, and we all clap and cheer when Morgan and Chris move to the centre of the dance floor.
When it’s time for the bridal party to join in, Will takes my hand in his and leads me out to join them, wrapping his arms around me while we sway to the music.
“Can’t believe this is finally done. I feel like all we’ve been talking about for the last few months is this wedding,” he says, his mouth close to my ear as I lean into his embrace.
“Yeah… I wonder what Morgan is going to do with all that free time now.”
Will laughs, and even through the mental fog, I feel a tightness in my chest at the sound of it. I’m relieved that it’s just me who is broken. That the events of this year haven’t turned him into a shell of who he is. He deserves happiness.
God, I wish I was the one who could make him happy.
We spend the rest of the night on the dance floor, and once Morgan and Chris leave, we make our way home together in a cab. The copious amounts of alcohol that I’d had has perked me up, and for the first time in over a month, I am actually in the mood for sex.
It’s the first time since everything, and Will is so gentle with me, checking in constantly to make sure he’s not hurting me.
Although I manage to get swept up in the moment and allow myself to fall asleep in his arms afterwards, I know that once I wake up, the blackness will have returned, and I wish I could hold on to this moment forever.
The following Friday, Will leaves for work early, kissing me softly while I’m lying half asleep in bed.
“I’ll see you tonight, babe. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I mumble, struggling to keep my eyes open.
Once he’s gone, I fall back to sleep, and when I finally wake up, it’s midmorning. I don’t normally sleep so late, but I’ve been so tired lately that it’s been hard to get up each day, after spending my nights tossing and turning.
Glancing at my phone, I realise I’d forgotten to put it on charge last night, and the battery is dangerously low. I roll onto my side and dig around in the drawer beside the bed to look for my charger, but it’s nowhere in sight .
I frown, certain I’d had it the night before.
With a sigh, I scoot across the bed and pull out the top drawer of Will’s bedside table, looking for his instead.
I don’t find a charger.
I do find a small jewellery box, though…
Swallowing hard, I open the box with shaking hands, and my heart sinks when my gaze falls upon the beautiful, princess cut diamond ring. It’s exactly the type of ring I’d pick for myself. Which shouldn’t surprise me, because Will knows my taste so well.
While other women in a relationship with the perfect man would be elated to find a ring in their boyfriend’s drawer, the urge to vomit is overwhelming me.
“Oh god,” I whisper, staring at the ring.
How long has he had this? When is he planning on giving this to me?
Fuck, I don’t want to get married.
The words pop into my head, refusing to be ignored any longer.
I’ve been running from this reality for a long time, determined to keep my head buried firmly in the sand because I love Will so much.
But there’s no denying it now. Not with the cold, hard truth staring me squarely in the face.
Will wants a life I can’t give him… And I know that if I told him that I didn’t want to get married or have kids, he’d stay with me.
Because he loves me just as much. But I can’t deny him the life he wants for himself.
My feet hit the floor and I’m moving before I even realise what I’m doing. I pull my suitcase from the cupboard and pack only the essentials, shoving my laptop into my handbag while I whirl around my office.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay here.
Pausing only to write Will a note, I drag the suitcase behind me before locking the door. When the cab I booked arrives, I ask the driver to take me to the international airport.
And I don’t look back.