Chapter Thirteen Natalie #2
With a sigh, Natalie let Lulu and Bill guide her forward.
She kept her eyes on the ground for the first few steps before she found the courage to raise her head.
She braced for a look of confusion on Jonathan’s face, or worse, the awkward smile of someone trying to mask their deep discomfort.
But instead, she found him grinning at her, just like he used to when he caught her eye in class to acknowledge some shared joke.
She felt herself relax and didn’t resist when Jonathan reached for her hand as she reached the end of the “aisle.”
“And now let’s have the bride and groom face each other,” Tess called.
Jonathan took Natalie’s other hand, and his smile widened as their eyes met.
Her chest filled with the familiar warmth she always associated with his touch, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to fade away.
For the first time in years, Natalie allowed herself to admit how much she wanted this.
How there was a parallel universe in which this scene wasn’t a farce—it was real.
A universe in which she’d had the courage to confess her true feelings for Jonathan long before he met Marigold.
And then it was over. Following Tess’s orders, Jonathan dropped Natalie’s hands and turned back to the senator to continue some discussion about new pharmaceutical regulations.
Without a word to the rest of the wedding party, she hurried out into the hall, where the first wave of guests were making their way toward the dining room. She just needed a minute to compose herself before returning to the fray.
“Natalie!” Hannah ran after her with a frown. “Is it true Marigold’s not coming at all tonight?”
“She’s…” Natalie froze, suddenly unable to sort through the tangle of lies she’d been tasked with delivering. She fanned her face as if she were flushed. “Wow, it’s really warm here, isn’t it? I’ve probably sweated off all my makeup. I’d better go freshen up.”
Natalie hurried off into the large powder room, locked the door, and slumped against the wall, not even bothering to turn on the lights.
She didn’t care about her makeup. Or her hair.
Or how she looked in the four-hundred-dollar dress Lulu had paid for.
She had no idea how the rest of this weekend would play out, but one thing was certain—someone she cared about deeply would leave this island furious with Natalie.
Her phone buzzed, and Natalie fumbled for it frantically. But it wasn’t Marigold. Or the weirdly MIA Olivia.
It was Mrs. Friedlander.
natalie ive called you multiple times. monday is no good esme has dance class. can you talk to esme 2morrow? i know you have the wedding but it won’t take long thanks.
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Natalie muttered.
She shoved her phone back into her purse and stomped out of the bathroom, suddenly desperate for a drink.
She spotted a caterer holding a tray of champagne glasses, took one with a grateful smile, and went to find somewhere to drink it in peace.
She ducked around the corner and slipped into one of the smaller rooms she’d heard referred to as the “office,” where members could work on their laptops or hold business meetings.
All the lights were out, and Natalie breathed a sigh of relief before she realized that the room wasn’t actually empty.
Jonathan stood in front of the large bay windows, staring out at the stormy sea.
He seemed so lost in his own world that Natalie felt uneasy about disturbing his solitude.
She started to back out of the room, but somehow sensing her presence, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Oh, Bumps, it’s you.” Something had shifted since their exchange right before the rehearsal; he sounded suddenly weary and drained.
“It’s me.” She paused for a moment, then went over to join him at the window, which looked over the frothing gray-blue waves. “Quite the view.”
“We need to get you a yacht club membership. I bet you’d write incredible books in this room.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure the room is the issue for me. A great writer should be able to work anywhere, right?”
He didn’t answer and slumped onto the cushioned window seat.
“Are you okay?” Natalie asked.
“I just get the sense that there’s something going on with Marigold. Apart from the flight delay. Is she freaking out about the wedding? Do you think she’s having second thoughts?”
“Absolutely not,” Natalie said firmly, glad that this part at least was true. Marigold was going to extraordinary lengths to keep the wedding on track. She wasn’t running away. “She loves you so much, you know that. And you love her.”
He fell silent and turned back to stare at the black, churning sea. “That’s not always enough, though, is it?” he said quietly. “A good marriage takes more than love. It requires trust, honesty, communication. Do you really think Marigold and I have that? Are we making the right decision?”
“Of course you are,” Natalie said with the same calm certainty she always employed when speaking to Jonathan or Marigold about their relationship, the tone she’d perfected to mask the pain and remorse she’d been carrying since that ill-fated night when she’d thrown Marigold into his arms.
Except that tonight, her words didn’t sound smooth and confident.
They sounded as fake and desperate as she was. Because for the first time in years, Natalie couldn’t silence the voice in her head telling her that Jonathan was making a mistake. Tonight, the voice didn’t sound like an extension of Natalie’s selfishness or delusions.
Tonight, it sounded like the truth.