Chapter Thirty-Six
Naomi
"I quite literally can’t believe you never told me you were fucking Graham.”
Penelope Hastings, soon to be Santos- again- literally has the most one-track mind of any woman I’ve ever fucking met.
Case in point, she’s been on this one since we left fucking Vermont at five in the fucking morning and is still talking about it as we sit in front of glowing mirrors getting our makeup and hair done for her wedding.
“I mean, holy fuck, Naomi! I knew he had the hots for you, but why the fuck would you not tell me you were crawling into his bed or pulling him into empty restrooms—”
“Clara!” I whip my glare toward her.
“I didn’t tell her!” Clara protests. “I haven’t said a word, I swear!”
“Which is just the worst kind of betrayal!” Nelly snaps at her next.
“I had to learn all of this from Elias, who also only just learned it because Rowan had a slip of the tongue while they were having drinks! And you,” she jabs a finger in my direction while still managing to keep her head perfectly still for the stylist. “Have done no explaining! And worse, I hear Cristian had to wash his eyes after walking in on Graham going bananas on you at my fucking rehearsal dinner last night! My rehearsal dinner, Naomi?!”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know that I would call it going bananas—”
“That is not a denial young lady!”
“I’m older than you!”
“I. Want. Answers!”
“Okay! Jesus fucking Christ, you’re relentless!”
I stand when the makeup artist finishes with me- my hair is mine to deal with- giving the chair up to Ivelisse who has been watching all of this with the most mischievous smirk.
Elias’ other sister is sitting on the little couch in the bridal suite looking mildly horrified as she clutches a cross around her neck.
I think her name is Theresa? His mother has yet to arrive, thank God.
Theresa does not like me. She’s clearly a God-fearing woman, much like their mother, and is seconds away from removing herself from this room entirely. Maybe even going to find her brother to ask why he’s marrying a woman with such vulgar friends.
Woman, if you only knew the things your brother does to his fiancée behind closed doors.
I fetch Nelly another glass of champagne before taking one of the velvet chairs, crossing my legs beneath my silk robe.
The whole bridal party is dressed in matching cream silk pajamas and robes, with fluffy slippers and socks because the bridal suite is kept cold enough to stop our makeup from running.
It’s already ten thousand times better than anything Flora or Vivian planned for Nelly’s last wedding.
I don’t even think we were allowed to eat breakfast that day, but Elias’ mom is bringing an entire assortment of pastries.
“What is it you want to know, Nelly?” I ask begrudgingly as I begin gently working my hair.
“EVERYTHING!”
“There isn’t much to tell,” I shrug. “We started hooking up around the time you and Elias were separated and just didn’t stop until like two years ago. It’s a very boring story—”
“Nothing about anything you just said is boring,” Nelly argues and the stylist turns her chair so the bride can face me while she continues to pin her hair. “While we were separated?! Really?! What, were you two like, using each other to cope with my break-up—”
“No,’ I roll my eyes.
“Then what the Hell—”
“It just happened, okay?” I throw my hands out. “We just fell into bed together one night and couldn’t stop!”
“Hold on,” Clara’s brow furrows. “You said while they were separated. That was like, December? But you hooked up with the Sharks team in March.”
“Naomi!” Nelly’s eyes get wider and Theresa starts actually praying. Ivelisse is cackling her ass off, only covering it with the tips of her fingers. “You were cheating on Graham?! No wonder he was so upset at your party—”
“We were never exclusive,” I hold up a finger. “It was all just… Really good sex...”
“Jesuchristo—”
“Oh, go judge someone else,” I wave off Elias’s elder sister who is looking at me with so much shock you would think I’d butchered a priest.
“Naomi,” Nelly chastises me. “Be respectful.” To her future sister-in-law, she forces a bright smile. “I’m so sorry about her, Tessa. Could you maybe go and speak to the coordinators about having some waters and coffee sent up?”
Theresa looks all too willing to be anywhere else, making herself absent with a nod. Nelly glares at me across the room. “Could you be a little kinder to my future family—”
“You’re interrogating me—”
“Over another member of this family! Maybe not by blood, but Graham is like a brother to Elias—”
“And I’m like a sister to you!” I shout back. “So why am I the one getting this kind of inquisition—”
“Because you’re the one who keeps lying to me!”
I blink because when the fuck have I ever—
“I know about the car accident!” Nelly cries and even the stylist pauses, gaze flicking between us. The bride takes the opportunity to launch furiously out of her chair. “And I know about rehab! We both do!”
Clara immediately averts her teary gaze.
My cheeks flush and suddenly both Ivelisse and the stylist find somewhere else to be as Nelly fights back tears to avoid ruining her pristine makeup.
Swallowing back my own tears, I whisper, “How do you know…?”
Her shoulders straighten, clearly glad I’m at least not denying it.
“How do you think? Nathan called me, Naomi. He called me the day after you were checked in and told us not to mention it. He said that you would tell us when you were ready but,” she gestures broadly.
“Here we are a whole fucking year later! We’re your best friends, Naomi! ”
“I…” My lips open and close several times, but I’m honestly not sure what I should say anymore. “I didn’t know how to tell you… I’m sorry…”
All the wind leaves Nelly’s sails, and then she’s just my friend again.
My overexuberant, too passionate friend who somehow is always the shoulder to cry on even when her own life is filled to the brim.
She’s getting married today, and yet her entire focus, everything in her golden fucking heart is on me and my awful mistakes.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry—”
“We’re sorry,” Clara corrects.
Nelly nods quickly. “Because we never should have made you feel like you couldn’t tell us when you were struggling. Especially with something like this. I mean… God, Naomi. The four of us debated for hours whether or not we should even allow alcohol on this trip—"
“I don’t want you giving things up for me,” I tell them quickly. “I’m the one who needs to be strong here, not you—”
“That is exactly what we thought you would say.” Clara is nodding emphatically behind her. “And then we figured if we abstained you’d get suspicious and awkward- or worse think one of us was already knocked up—”
“Still mildly surprised you are not,” I admit.
Nelly smirks. “My dress is lace and very tight. Elias has been very diligent.”
“Uh huh,” I looked over her shoulder at Clara. “What’s your excuse?”
“Ballet,” she reminds me with an eye roll.
Nelly closes the distance between us, taking my hands in hers. “Naomi,” I look down at her, fighting the urge to chew at my bottom lip. “When you’re ready to tell us what happened, we are here for you. We always have been, and we are so fucking proud of you for making it this far.”
“It’s only a year—”
“Don’t do that.” She squeezes my hands. “Don’t minimize how hard you’ve worked.
Do you know how many stories Elias has told me about getting Graham clean?
I know what you’re going through isn’t easy, both of us do.
” She looks back at Clara who stands, hair still half done, coming over to us.
Nelly looks back up at me. “And we are here. We will always be here, no matter what happens.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. “Goddamn it, Penelope Santos. You’re going to ruin my makeup with all your emotional crap.”
My best friend beams. “I’m still Penelope Hastings for a few more hours,” she reminds me.
I carefully take a tissue, wiping beneath my eyes. “And you will be forever if we don’t get your damn hair finished. Ivelisse!” I call into the hall. “Everyone get back in here! We need to finish turning this bitch into a bride!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Nelly grabs my hand again. “One more question. Does Graham know? That you’re…?”
“Yes,” I nod once. “I told him the other night.”
“Does your sickness have anything to do with why you two never made things work? Did he know you were sick?”
My shoulders fall slightly and for a moment I’m struck with the awful shame and guilt of who my addiction made me.
Of the way I treated the people I cared about for so many years.
I cared about Graham, still care about him, but I was so buried in my own armor that I refused all attempts for him to reach out.
I refused every helping hand, every kind gesture, every desire to be closer because it would have rocked the already unstable walls I hid behind.
Only through intense rounds of therapy did I realize I drank to numb the fear of failure.
The fear of becoming like the woman who had adopted and then abandoned me just as quickly.
I thought I was unlovable if even the woman who chose me wanted nothing to do with me.
Nathan, of course, never saw it that way.
He just accepted that she wasn’t who she claimed to be when she married our father and the act got too overwhelming.
Meanwhile I went down the road of my mom abandoned me, something must be wrong with me.
Which of course became I need to meet all of my father’s expectations, and even a single failure made me spiral until I could no longer stand to even exist in my own skin.
Alcohol made all of that go away.
Alcohol made me push Graham away because I knew the moment he noticed- even if I only realized I had a problem subconsciously- that he’d rip it all apart. So, I shoved and rejected and denied and now…
Now I can’t stop thinking about what he said last night. How vehemently he’d expressed his love for me without expecting anything in return. It was real for me. Every moment of it was real.
It was real for me too, I’d wanted to say, but he was gone before I managed to find the courage.
And no matter how real it might have been, it doesn’t change that I’m still a fucking mess.
I don’t want to make him feel responsible for me or worry about me.
Graham still has his own demons, and while he’s much better at keeping them at bay than I am it feels wrong to add mine to the horde.
“Naomi?” Nelly squeezes my hand.
"No,” I swallow, admitting, “No, he… He always knew I had a problem. He offered to help. I just… I had to help myself first, you know?”
Nelly nods. “Yes. I do.” She leans in. “But, Naomi, please promise me- on my wedding day so you have to say yes- that you will not keep pushing people away because you think you need to protect them or because you think you’re a burden just because you’re sick—”
“Nelly—”
“Promise. Me.”
My blue eyes meet hers and for a brief moment I want to tell her that it’s impossible.
I will never stop trying to protect her or Clara or even Graham.
But she’s holding onto my hand so earnestly, her eyes welling with all the conviction of a woman who has learned exactly where she belongs in the world while I am being swallowed by the unknown.
That bubble of expectation mingling with the fear of failure blooms in my chest and the champagne sweating on the table looks really good right now. I resist the urge, just like I have every day for the last year.
You’re lucky to be alive, I tell myself. You’re lucky to be alive. You’re lucky to be alive.
“I promise…” I murmur softly.
Nelly pulls me into her arms, holding me until Ivelisse reminds her of the time. Only then does she return to the makeup chair to resume becoming the woman who will finally marry Elias Santos