7. Charlotte
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Charlotte
“The flowers are unreal,” Kiera said, adjusting a centerpiece on the table nearest the door. “Did you see the orchids on the arch? I nearly cried when they brought them in this morning.”
“The bride’s mother flew them in from Hawaii,” I said. “From the same farm where the groom proposed.”
“You’re kidding me,” Kiera said.
“I’m not,” I said. “She told me the whole story while I was setting up the gift table.”
“That’s disgusting,” Kiera said. “That’s the most disgustingly romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I hate them both.”
“You love them,” I said.
“I love them so much it makes me sick,” Kiera said. “Have you seen her dress? The lace on the back goes all the way down to the train. I want to steal it and run away.”
“You’d look good in it,” I said.
“I’d look incredible in it,” Kiera said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that some people get sunrise proposals in Hawaii and custom lace gowns, and some people get a leaky apartment and a cat who hates them.”
“Your cat doesn’t hate you,” I said.
“My cat tolerates me because I feed him,” Kiera said.
I laughed, but the sound felt wrong in my chest. Hollow. I adjusted a place card that didn’t need adjusting and tried to focus on the work.
“You okay?” Kiera asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Just tired.”
“You’ve been quiet all morning,” Kiera said. “Quieter than usual. And you keep staring at the arch like it personally offended you.”
“I’m not staring at the arch,” I said.
“You were thinking about whatever it is you think about when you get that look on your face.”
“What look?” I asked.
“The look you get when you’re somewhere else,” Kiera said. “When you’re here but you’re not here. You do it all the time. I’ve been wanting to ask about it for months.”
“There’s nothing to ask about,” I said.
“There’s definitely nothing to ask about,” Kiera said. “Which is why you just said it like that.”
I looked at her. She was watching me with her head tilted, her expression curious but not pushy. I liked Kiera. She was good at her job and she made me laugh and she didn’t dig too deep when I made it clear I didn’t want to be dug into.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. Let’s just get through tonight.”
“Okay,” Kiera said. “But if you need to talk later, or drink later, or sit in silence later while I talk about my cat, I’m available.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
The ceremony started at five. I stood at the back of the room and watched the guests file in, watched the groom take his place at the altar, watched the string quartet shift from background music to the processional.
The bride appeared in the doorway. Her dress was everything Kiera had described. The lace, the train, the way it caught the candlelight. Her father took her arm and she started down the aisle, and half the room was already crying before she reached the halfway point.
The groom was crying too. He watched her walk toward him like he couldn’t believe his luck, like he had been waiting his whole life for this exact moment, like nothing else in the world existed except the woman in white coming to meet him.
They said their vows. They exchanged rings. They kissed while the room erupted into applause.
I watched all of it from the back wall and felt my chest get tighter with every minute.
I didn’t think about the last time I had been near a wedding. I worked instead. Moved faster. Smiled harder. Kept my hands busy so my mind couldn’t wander.
The reception started and I threw myself into it.
I was good at this. I was good at disappearing into the work, at becoming invisible and essential, at making everyone else’s perfect day run smoothly while I felt nothing at all.
I was passing the back wall with a tray of champagne when I saw him.
Sutton was standing near the bar with a glass in his hand. Dark suit, loosened tie, jaw tight. Spencer was beside him, talking to a woman in a red dress, but Sutton wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.
He was watching me.
And Vivienne was next to him. Close. Too close. Her hand on his arm, her body angled toward his, her lips near his ear as she said whatever she was saying. He nodded without looking at her. His eyes stayed on me.
My stomach clenched. My grip tightened on the tray. I looked away and kept walking, but I could feel it in my chest, that twist of jealousy I had no right to feel and couldn’t explain.
I had left him. I had walked away. What did it matter if Vivienne touched his arm or whispered in his ear or looked at him like he belonged to her?
It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
But my hands were shaking and my jaw was tight and I wanted to walk over there and rip her hand off his sleeve, and I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand any of it.
I circled the room. Refilled glasses. Did my job. The bride and groom had their first dance, and I watched from the edges, and I tried not to think about anything except the next task and the next task and the next.
I was near the service entrance when Sutton stepped into my path.
“Touching, isn’t it,” he said. His voice was low, rough with alcohol. “All these people who actually. You know. Stay together.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m working.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Running around, making sure everything’s perfect. Must bring back memories.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Don’t you?” he asked. “All these vows, all this commitment, all these people who said yes and actually meant it. Must be nostalgic.”
“Get out of my way,” I said.
“How was the wedding, Charlotte?” he asked.
“Did Reynolds cry when he saw you in your dress? Did you write your own vows this time, or recycle the ones you said to me?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he covered it with a swallow of his drink.
“I always wondered what your second act would look like.”
My heart was pounding. My face was hot. I wanted to throw the tray at his head, to scream, to tell him everything and nothing all at once.
“You don’t get to ask me about that,” I said.
“Why not?” he asked. “We’re just two old friends catching up. You did it again, apparently, the whole thing, the dress and the vows and the aisle. I’m curious how it went the second time. Bigger than ours? Smaller? Did your father actually give you away, or just hand over the receipt?”
“Stop it,” I said.
“I’m just asking questions,” he said. “You don’t have to answer them. I just didn’t think you’d actually do it. Marry someone else.” He laughed, and there was nothing behind it. “Guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”
“Know what about me?” I asked.
“That you could stand at an altar and mean it with someone who wasn’t me,” he said, and the words came out slower than he meant them to.
“As if you know anything about commitment to me,” I said.
“I know enough,” he said, and then he shook his head, like he’d lost the thread of his own point. “I know what it looks like when someone leaves. I’ve had a lot of time to look at that one.”
“Funny you say that, because from what I remember you were the one who never showed up. And I was the one who stayed.”
“That’s what you remember. I remember you divorcing me.”
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“I’m honest,” he said. “For once. I’m finally being honest about what I think of you and what you did.”
“What I did,” I repeated. “You want to talk about what I did.”
“You married him,” Sutton said, and the bitterness drained out of it as fast as it came. “You took what we had and you married a man your parents picked out for you. I keep trying to be angry about it. It’d be easier if I could just stay angry.”
“As if you were paying attention,” I said.
“I was when I saw the announcement in the paper and realized you’d moved on without bothering to tell me.”
“Moved on,” I said. “You think I moved on?”
“Didn’t you?” he asked. “You’re Mrs. Reynolds Smith now. You picked the safe one. The one who’d actually be there.” The venom gave out on him again. “I didn’t even get a goodbye, Charlotte. You were my wife and I found out you were his from a newspaper.”
I was shaking. My whole body was shaking. The tray in my hands was rattling and I didn’t know if it was rage or grief or the effort of keeping myself from falling apart.
“You don’t know anything,” I said.
“I don’t know,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I keep telling myself you gave up, that you ran when it got hard. It’s easier than the other version.”
“What other version?” I asked.
“The one where you didn’t leave until I’d already made you feel like you were alone in that marriage anyway,” he said, and looked away from me. “I’ve been living with both for months. Can’t decide which one I hate more.”
“You hate it? You’re the victim here?”
“I’m not saying I’m a victim,” he said.
“You’re exactly saying that,” I said. “You’re acting like I’m the one who abandoned you. Like I’m the one who didn’t show up. Like you were just waiting around for me and I broke your heart.”
“You did break my heart,” he said.
“That’s incredible. That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“It’s true,” he said.
“It’s bullshit,” I said. “You want to know what’s true? You want to know what actually happened? I waited for you. I waited and waited and you never came. You were never there. You were always somewhere else, doing something else, being important to everyone except me.”
“That’s not fair,” he said.
“Fair?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Sutton. Everything I had. And you gave me canceled dinners and forgotten plans and a lifetime of being your second choice.”
“You were never my second choice,” he said.
“I was always your second choice,” I said.
“Your work came first. Your deals came first. Your phone came first. I was just the thing you came home to when everything else was finished. And you know what? I would have kept waiting. I would have kept telling myself it would get better. But you never showed up. Not when it counted. Not when I needed you.”
Spencer had moved closer. I saw him in my peripheral vision, his face going still, his eyes moving between me and Sutton.
Sutton opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t finished.
“Charlotte,” he said.
“You want to talk about people who don’t show up?” I said. My voice was low and cold, colder than I had ever heard it. “You are the world’s foremost expert. Don’t lecture me on promises from the bottom of a glass.”
Spencer was completely still now. Sutton’s face was blank, his eyes fixed on mine, his whole body rigid.
He had nothing. No comeback, no defense, no clever words to throw back at me. He just stood there, silent, while the wedding swirled around us.
Vivienne was watching from across the room. Her eyes were sharp, satisfied. She looked like she was enjoying the show.
My chest felt hollow. My eyes were burning. I couldn’t make sense of my own thoughts, couldn’t sort through the anger and the grief and the jealousy that made no sense.
I couldn’t be here.
I set down the tray I was holding. And turned and walked toward the door. Past the flowers, past the candles, past Kiera calling my name, past all of it.
I couldn’t be in that room another second, so I turned and walked out, and did not let myself look back to see if he watched me go.