Chapter 22
After weeks of sweltering heat, the weather gods smiled on them the morning of the wedding. When Carly woke up, she checked the weather app on her phone and saw that it would be warm but not blistering, breezy but not windy, and there wasn’t a drop of rain in the forecast. Heather had made three separate bad weather contingency plans, because of course she had. But it looked like she wouldn’t need any of them.
Carly snuck a look at her Instagram account. She’d broken twenty-five thousand followers some time overnight, probably thanks to Ivy’s article, and she’d been tagged in dozens more posts where young dancers from all over the world were mimicking her poses. A few other news outlets had followed Ivy’s lead, too, and had written up the photos. They all referred to Nick as “formerly unknown,” or “under the radar.” The words made her want to throw her phone across the room at the seashell wallpaper.
He’d lied to her. He’d lied to all of them, but especially to her. He’d known how reluctant she was to ask him for help, and he’d let her plead for it anyway. And now he was walking away with all the spoils of their project, and she had no way of knowing if this plan—her plan!—was going to work. She glanced back at her follower count and then plopped her phone back on the bed. Sure, she’d racked up a bunch of followers. But it felt like a hollow victory. Where was her Vogue phone call?
As much as she wanted to stay in bed plotting ways to destroy Nick Jacobs, today wasn’t the day for it. Today was Heather’s day. Heather was the reason Carly had flown halfway around the world and blown all her savings on this so-kitschy-it’s-almost-cool Airbnb. Heather was the reason she was here instead of back home in New York trying to ensure she had a professional future. Heather was the reason she still kind of sort of believed in true love. So she couldn’t destroy Nick Jacobs today. Because today she was going to be what Heather needed her to be: the world’s best maid of honor.
Before she got in the shower, she spent a few minutes lying on the couch with a cool washcloth over her eyes, hoping it would bring down the lingering swelling from yesterday’s sobfest. Once she’d showered and packed all her makeup and accessories into her bag, she went to the closet and pulled her teal dress out of the closet, then grabbed her phone charger and her phone, trying not to notice as she did that there were no missed calls or texts from Nick. Good, she thought. There was nothing he could say to her that she wanted to hear.
She grabbed an iced coffee on the way to Heather and Marcus’s and found Marcus walking out of the front gate just as she arrived. She hitched her mouth up into a smile and hoped it looked genuine.
“Good morning, groom!” she called, waving as best she could with her hands full.
“Good morning, maid of honor,” he replied, jiggling his garment bag at her in lieu of a wave. “Alice is already here, and Izzy has brought enough hair and makeup stuff for an extremely attractive army. I’m heading over to Nick’s place to primp with him and Davo.”
Carly swallowed, trying not to think about the three of them gathered in Nick’s hotel room, two of them oblivious to what had happened there yesterday. She imagined them toasting to Nick’s new job offer and wanted to scream.
“Have a great time, and we’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” she said, with another attempt at a smile.
Marcus nodded, then stopped. He looked over his shoulder, back at the house, and then down toward the beach where, a few hours from now, he and Heather would be married.
“I’m just so fucking lucky,” he said, his voice full of awe. Carly’s heart squeezed and suddenly she was blinking away tears, undoing all of that washcloth’s good work.
“You’re damn right you are. But so is she,” she added, and she stepped forward to give him an awkward, hands-full hug. He gave a big sniff over her shoulder, then pulled away.
“Go primp,” she said, with a smile that felt like the real thing, and he nodded and headed down the street toward the hotel.
Carly stepped inside the house just in time to hear the sound of a cork popping out of a bottle, followed by whoops and clapping. She made her way down the hallway to the kitchen and dining room, where she found Alice pouring champagne into glass flutes as Izzy laid out the contents of several makeup kits onto the dining table.
“There’s the maid of honor!” Alice cried, and Izzy looked up from a handful of brushes and gave her a smile.
“Heather’s drying her hair,” Izzy said as Alice handed them each a full flute. “We’ll do hair first, then makeup. Heather, then Alice, then you. Do you want to see the spreadsheet?”
Carly chuckled. “No, I’m okay. How’s she doing?”
Alice wobbled her head, thinking. “She seems a bit nervous, but it’s good nerves. Show nerves, you know? The kind that make you sharper and quicker, not the kind that muddle your brain.”
Carly took a sip of champagne, wishing she felt that way. Instead, she somehow felt sluggish and enraged at the same time. But that didn’t matter today. What mattered was keeping Heather calm, sticking to the schedule and getting her down the aisle without anything going wrong. No fuckups, today of all days. If she couldn’t keep that vow for herself, she could keep it for Heather.
A few minutes later, Heather came out of the bathroom wrapped in a plush white robe, bringing the scent of lavender perfume into the room. She beamed when she saw Carly and gave her a quick hug.
“You ready to do this?” Carly asked, squeezing her tight.
“Only for the last two years,” Heather said, squeezing her back. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”
Carly pulled away to see Alice holding out a glass of champagne for Heather.
“A toast,” Alice declared. “To my favorite dance partner, Marcus, and his actual partner, Heather.”
“To Heather!” Carly and Izzy said, and the four of them clinked their glasses.
Heather took a delicate sip. “Make sure you eat, too, okay? There’s cheese and crackers and charcuterie in the kitchen. No one drinks on an empty stomach today—that’s how cakes get knocked over.”
“As bridezilla requests go, ‘Please eat the charcuterie’ is pretty manageable,” Izzy smirked.
“This is my wedding, it’s my day, and I demand you eat some of that goat cheese!” Heather faux glowered at her, and all four of them burst out laughing.
This is fine, Carly thought. She could do this. She’d sit quietly while Izzy did her hair and makeup, and she wouldn’t think about the fact that a few hours from now, she’d have to see Nick. Walk down the aisle toward Nick. She took a swig of her champagne and started unpacking her things.
An hour and a half later, Izzy had twisted and pinned half of Heather’s long brown hair into an elegant low knot and curled the rest into loose, romantic waves. Alice had opted for a sleek ponytail that would stay out of her face as she was officiating the ceremony. And Carly had asked Izzy to give her a classic French twist with plenty of tendrils left out to frame her face and make the whole thing look slightly more relaxed than an uptight ballet updo.
“You like?” Izzy asked, offering Carly a large handheld mirror. Carly examined her reflection. Her curls looked extra bouncy and defined, which she loved. Her face was still puffy and pale, which she did not love, but Izzy could probably hide that with makeup.
“Looks perfect,” Carly said, giving Izzy a quick smile. “And it’s almost ten, so I should get ready for the florist.”
“All right then. Heather, get your beautiful face over here so I can make it even more beautiful,” Izzy said as Carly stood up.
She grabbed her phone, and some cheese and crackers, off the table, hoping that the florist hadn’t tried to call her while she was in the chair, but there were no missed calls from them. No missed calls from Nick, either. Good, she thought. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t ever want to see him again, and once this wedding was over, she never would. Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she jumped.
“Must be the florist arriving,” she said to the room through a mouthful of cheese, and she headed up the hallway toward the front door.
Halfway down the hallway, she looked down at the screen and saw that it wasn’t a text but an email. She swiped to her inbox.
Email from: Catherine Lancaster
Subject: Your future at NYB
Carly’s fingers went instantly numb, and she fumbled the phone in her rush to open the email. Had Catherine already decided about promotions? Had she decided to notify people privately, instead of doing it at the end of a company class like she’d done last year?
Carly,
I’m aware that you’re out of the country at the moment, and I see you’ve been making the most of your time in Australia; the photos you’ve been posting are quite wonderful.
Oh God, she’d seen them. Had she also seen the big boost they’d been to Carly’s profile? And would she think it was enough?
I wish I had better news to share, but I wanted to let you know privately, before I announce the company’s next round of promotions, that I’ve decided not to promote you at this time. I’m sorry to disappoint you.
Carly heard a small, alien sound come out of her mouth, something that was half whimper, half sigh.
“Are you okay?” Alice called from the kitchen, and Carly started.
“I’m, I’m fine,” Carly said hastily, hoping Alice wouldn’t come to check on her. “Just … stubbed my toe.”
“Guess it’s a good thing we’re all going barefoot this afternoon,” Alice replied. “You want some ice?”
“No, no, I’m—I’m fine,” Carly managed, hoping Alice couldn’t hear the tears that were thickening her throat.
All that work. All the groveling she’d done to get Nick to work with her, and it was all for nothing. She’d be Peasant Maiden #4 forever, disposable and interchangeable and replaceable, until her body gave out and she retired in obscurity with no prospects and no plan.
On another note, I’d like to have a conversation about your future at NYB. Please call my assistant to set up a meeting when you return from Sydney.
Thank you,
Catherine
Oh God, it was so much worse than she’d imagined. She wasn’t getting promoted, she was getting fired. Nick fucking Jacobs was getting a job flying around the world taking photos of dancers for Vogue, and she … she wasn’t even going to be a dancer anymore. She clapped a hand over her mouth before another one of those noises could come out, then shoved her phone into her pocket and went to the front door to wait for the florist.
Just get through today, she told herself. Just be present for Heather today. You can deal with this later. You can deal with the giant, gaping hole that is your future and the rest of your life later.
She stepped out onto the front porch and allowed herself a few quick tears where the others couldn’t see or hear her. Then she took a few deep breaths, the kind she’d usually take to get her temper under control when her brain felt like it was on fire. But it wasn’t her brain today, it was her heart, which felt like it was cracking under the weight of all of it: Nick’s betrayal, Catherine’s email, Heather’s glowing, beautiful happiness. It was too much.
She was still taking deep breaths when a shiny white van pulled up in front of the house and a woman in an apron climbed out, clipboard in hand.
“Hays-Campbell wedding?” she called from the sidewalk, and Carly nodded. She took one last sniff and squared her shoulders, then marched down the garden path to help unload the flowers.
“You ready?” Nick said, wiggling his toes in the sand.
“I’m ready,” Marcus replied firmly.
“Last chance to back out,” Davo chimed in.
“Piss off, would you?” Marcus said, with a grin, and Davo obliged, heading down the beach to where forty guests sat on white folding chairs that had been set up in two blocks with an aisle between them. Beyond the chairs, between the guests and the waves, two stakes had been driven into the sand, with white banners fluttering at the top of them.
“Like a white flag of surrender,” Davo had said when he’d first seen them, but both Nick and Marcus had ignored him. The weather had cooperated today, and Heather’s meticulous planning had ensured that everything and everyone were exactly where they were supposed to be. And now Nick and Marcus were waiting just outside the Freshwater Surf Club, barefoot and tie-less in their suits, waiting for Alice to arrive with Carly and Heather.
Nick looked over at Marcus, who didn’t look nearly as nervous as a person ought to look when they were about to bind themselves to someone else for eternity. Forever. What an enormous promise to make, to stay together no matter what. No matter how you changed—or didn’t. No matter how you disappointed and failed each other. Together, no matter what. Nick had imagined it with Delphine, once upon a time. And lately he’d allowed himself to imagine it with someone else, someone funny and exasperating who liked his work and made it better. But then he’d messed it all up. And when she left Sydney in a few days, he’d be alone. Again.
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Marcus whipped around so quickly that Nick realized his best friend might be feeling jumpier than he was letting on. He turned around himself to see Alice, in a black silk camisole tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted tuxedo pants, with a white leather binder tucked under one arm.
“You boys ready?” Alice asked. She looked completely relaxed, like she’d been officiating weddings for years.
“We’re ready,” Nick said. Marcus only managed a nod.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting at the flags. The ladies are all just inside. Remember, it’s Nick and Carly, then Marcus and Leanne, then Heather and Linda.”
“Got it,” Nick confirmed, his heart clenching at the thought of seeing Carly. He’d barely slept last night, lying in bed replaying yesterday afternoon in his head, wishing he’d had just a few more minutes, just a few more seconds to tell her how he felt about her before everything went to hell. Before he proved her first instincts about him right.
It was just a few dozen metres down the beach. It was only fifteen minutes of standing across the aisle from her. She’d told him to stay the hell away from her, and as much as he wanted to pull her aside and explain himself, to apologize and ask her for another chance, he knew this wasn’t the time or the place. He’d have time after the wedding was over.
He and Marcus watched as Alice stopped by Izzy’s seat and gave her a quick kiss before taking her place between the two white flags and opening her binder. Then she flashed them the cue they’d decided on, a peace sign, and beamed.
Nick reached out and put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You’re going to be a great husband,” he said quietly. “Because you’re a great friend. And that’s all this is: promising to be her best and most loyal friend, no matter what happens. That’s what your dad was to your mum, and look what a great husband and father he turned out to be.”
Marcus nodded and swallowed hard, and then turned and pulled Nick into a tight hug.
“Thanks for being here,” Marcus muttered over his shoulder. Nick nodded and sniffed. There was so much he hadn’t been here for, so much he’d missed. Soon he’d be gone again. But today he was here, standing beside the boy who’d been his friend since they were gangly, awkward teenagers. Who wasn’t a boy anymore but a man, so deeply in love it shone from his every pore.
Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he pulled away from Marcus to see Carly standing five feet away, watching them with a bouquet of pale pink roses clutched tightly in one hand. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. Christ, she was beautiful. Every day, in anything, even in a hideous hotel T-shirt covered in clip art horses, but especially in that dress. The thin teal fabric gathered in delicate folds at her waist and spilled around her feet, which were bare and visible where the cloth was slit halfway up one thigh. It tied at the back of her neck, revealing her strong shoulders and the freckles on her chest. And her hair, so bright and boldly red against the green dress, was perfectly Carly: pinned up in a twist but with curls escaping, bobbing in the breeze. Beautiful, barely controlled chaos.
He had a sudden vision of the first time he’d seen that dress, spilling out of the suitcase he’d thought was his, the suitcase she’d yanked away from him as she yelled at him in the hotel lobby. He’d found her utterly maddening then, a human hand grenade that exploded whenever he got near it. A hand grenade that loathed him. And now … well, he still found her maddening. But he knew her now, and fuck, he was falling for her. And she loathed him all over again.
He stared at her, willing her to say something to him, but her face was completely impassive. He was about to speak when Leanne and Heather’s mum appeared behind her, Linda in a navy blue gown and Leanne in a periwinkle dress that came to her knees. Linda looked slightly uncomfortable wearing a gown without shoes; Leanne looked perfectly at home barefoot on the sand.
“Alice drilled us on the order of operations,” Leanne said to Marcus, her eyes twinkling. “So I think you and I should get a wriggle on. And Nicholas, you better be ready, or Sergeant Alice will have your head.”
Nick gave her a close-mouthed smile, and then looked over at Carly, who didn’t even give him that. But she did walk forward and stand beside him. He offered her his arm, and Nick and Leanne started processing down the sand, and she waited until the last possible moment to take it, touching him so lightly he could barely feel it as they walked down the beach and towards Alice.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, against his better judgment.
Her hand stiffened on his forearm, and he saw her clench her jaw.
“Don’t.” Her voice was hard and cold as steel.
They arrived at the rows of chairs, and he nodded at Izzy and the handful of dancers he recognized from his time at the ANB school. Carly’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, and the second they reached the end of the aisle, she removed her hand from his arm so quickly that Nick saw Alice’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. Carly took her place on Alice’s left side, and Nick stepped to the right, and they both turned to face up the aisle as Marcus and Leanne appeared, arm in arm.
By the time Marcus made it halfway down the aisle, both his and Leanne’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and as Marcus helped his mother carefully into her chair in the front row, Nick pulled out a tissue and handed it over. Marcus gave his face a quick wipe, then pocketed the tissue and turned to face the surf club as all the guests stood to watch Heather walk towards them.
Nick tried to keep his eyes on the bride, who looked lovely, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from drifting towards Carly. While everyone else was distracted, watching Heather or snapping discreet photos of her with their phones, he drank in Carly’s profile. The swell of her lips, the sharp cut of her cheekbone. The long straight line of her neck, such a contrast with the curved, swaying strands of hair that had escaped her bun. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, and as Heather walked the final steps down the aisle, he watched as she blinked them away into the sand. He wanted to hand her a tissue, but he didn’t think he could bear the way she’d look at him if he tried.
Heather hugged her mother, who sat down next to Leanne and squeezed the other woman’s hand with a quick, sniffling smile. Then Heather stepped forward and turned to face Marcus, her face glowing with love and nerves and excitement.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi yourself,” he replied, and she giggled.
“Dearly beloved,” Alice said, as the guests sat down, “we are gathered here today, on this beautiful beach, to celebrate this beautiful couple and their beautiful love. To honor their commitment to each other and to the life they’ve built together.”
Nick glanced across at Carly, whose jaw was clenched again, and whose eyes were full of tears. He looked down at her hands, which were gripping her bouquet so tightly that her fingertips had gone white. She looked like she was barely holding it together, and all he wanted in that moment was to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair the way he’d done yesterday morning. But he couldn’t do that, because he was the reason she was barely holding it together.
Alice’s remarks were moving but short and to the point, and before long it was time for Heather and Marcus to exchange rings. Nick handed over Heather’s ring and watched as Marcus slid it onto her finger, fumbling with nerves on the first try but managing it on the second. Carly’s fingers trembled as she handed Marcus’s ring to Heather. But Heather’s hands were steady, and when the ring was on, she grinned up at Marcus—and before Alice could say anything, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
“Woah, woah, woah, I have to say the thing!” Alice protested as the crowd laughed and clapped and whooped.
Heather broke the kiss and gave Alice a sheepish shrug. “Sorry,” she said unconvincingly. “Couldn’t wait.”
The guests laughed again, and Alice cleared her throat pointedly. “Let’s try that again. By the power vested in me by the state of New South Wales, I now declare you married. You may now kiss the—Oi!”
Before she’d even finished, Marcus had thrown his arms around Heather and kissed her deeply, and the guests jumped to their feet and applauded. Nick glanced over and saw that even Carly was smiling now, although he could also see the places where the tears had left streaks in her makeup.
“Please join us all back at Marcus and Heather’s place for drinks, dinner, and dancing,” Alice called over the commotion, and she closed her binder with a grin.
“So much for Heather’s precise plan,” she rolled her eyes, and Nick chuckled. “All those spreadsheets and then in the crucial moment she blows her cue? Ah, well, shall we?”
She gestured at the aisle, where Marcus and Heather were already making their way back up the beach.
Nick nodded, then looked over to Carly, hoping for another excuse to touch her and walk with her, but she was already deep in conversation with Linda and studiously avoiding his gaze. He watched her for a moment, hoping she’d turn around, then realized it was hopeless. With a sigh, he started back up the beach alone.