Chapter 14
Harley
The following weeks have been silent on the Thompson front.
Elaine hasn’t called with a “minor adjustment” to the seating chart, and Robert has stopped side-eyeing me.
This silence has been the greatest gift Skyler could give me.
He’s been present by checking in on me between meetings and carving out long, one-on-one dinners where we don’t mention his parents once.
For the first time in weeks, the man I fell in love with has emerged from the corporate fog, giving me just enough hope to believe we might actually survive this.
And best of all, our wedding is tomorrow!
The country club has a specific scent. One of dusty mahogany polished to a mirror finish, mixed with the cloying sweetness of white lilies that have never known a day of actual dirt. It’s no botanical garden, that’s for sure.
Wire biting into my palms, I pull another string of fairy lights from the cardboard box. My hands are steady, which is a miracle considering I’m a ball of nerves.
“I’m just saying,” Lily says, her voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
She’s perched on the top of a stepladder, her short, violet-streaked curls bouncing as she fights with a stubborn bolt of silk tulle.
“For what Robert Thompson spent on his golf club membership this year, he could have hired a small army of professionals to do this. We could be at a bar right now, or a spa. Or literally anywhere that doesn’t involve me risking a neck injury for the sake of aesthetics. ”
I glance at my sister. She’s wearing a tattered band tee and paint-stained leggings. She’s a glitch in the Thompson family’s Matrix, and I love her for it.
“He tried to,” I say, my voice flat. “Passively sent over a contract for some boutique firm that specializes in ‘stately affairs.’ It was eighteen pages long and included a clause about the color of the napkins matching the family crest.”
Lily snorts, nearly losing her balance. “The Thompson crest. Is it a giant thumb to represent how much they like to pressure people?”
“Lily,” Maria says, though there’s no real heat in it. My stepmom is across the room, meticulously arranging eucalyptus branches across the head table.
I continue, “But I never signed, and they never brought it up. I explained to Skyler that I want to put up the decorations to make sure it’s all to my liking. There will be no surprises tomorrow.”
“Exactly,” Maria says, not looking up. “When you build the house yourself, you know exactly which floorboards creak. And you know no one’s planted a trapdoor in the middle of the aisle.”
I pause, the cold wire slipping through my fingers. “You think they’d actually try something? Tomorrow?”
Maria finally looks at me. Her brown eyes, much like mine despite no blood relation, is seasoned with a few more decades of seeing through people’s bullshit.
“Robert and Elaine don’t see this as a wedding, Harley; they see it as a merger.
And they’ve made it very clear they don’t like the terms of the contract.
If they could find a way to make you look unreliable, or if they could steer the narrative back to what they want, they would.
It’s exactly why I agreed to help you set up.
This is your and Skyler’s wedding, not theirs.
I’ll do anything to help make it yours.”
“They won’t do anything,” I say, and I realize I’m gritting my teeth. That’s why we’re here at three p.m. on a Friday. Because every centerpiece, every candle, and every scrap of ribbon was bought by me, not them. “They don’t get to claim the beauty of this day as their own work.”
“Amen,” Lily says, finally getting the tulle to drape in a way that doesn’t look like a shroud.
Once finished, she climbs down, her sneakers squeaking on the polished parquet. Then, she walks over and bumps her shoulder against mine. “You okay, Harl? You’re vibrating.”
I let out a slow, jagged breath. “I’m fine.”
Am I?
As best I can be right now.
I love Skyler.
And the finish line is right there.
“Tomorrow is the end of it,” I say, more to myself than them.
I pick up a roll of white silk ribbon. “We say the vows. Drink the champagne. Go to the airport. Then we have weeks in St. Lucia where the only Thompson I have to deal with is the one I actually like. And then we go back to the city, to our apartment.”
“And if they feel like they can randomly show up?” Lily asks, raising a brow.
“Then I’m changing the locks,” I say.
Maria walks over, wiping her hands on a damp cloth.
She reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“You’re strong, Harley. But don’t let that strength turn into bitterness.
You’re marrying Skyler, not his father’s bank account.
” Maria knows about the bribe and why I chose this venue.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I really am.”
“Screw ‘em,” Lily says, picking up a stray eucalyptus leaf and flicking it toward the trash can. “If Elaine starts acting out, I’ll accidentally-on-purpose spill red wine on her Chanel suit. I’ve been practicing my ‘clumsy’ face in the mirror for months.”
I laugh, and for the first time tonight, the knot in my chest loosens. “Don’t you dare. I want a peaceful wedding, Lily, not a bloodbath.”
“Why not both?” She grins, but she leans in and gives me a quick, fierce hug. “We’ve got this. Look at this place. It actually looks like you now, not a corporate retreat.”
As we step out into the cool night air, away from the stifling scent of the club, I stare at the stars. The sky is vast and indifferent to the dramas of the Thompsons.
“We made it,” I whisper.
I believe it. I have to. Because tomorrow I’m walking into that room, and I’m taking what belongs to me. I’m marrying the man I love, and I’m leaving the past few months behind us.