Chapter 31
In the bathroom, I take a minute to decompress.
I run cold water over my hands and try to breathe out all the frustration I’d been holding in all evening.
Between Susan watching my every move, and Hudson showering me with attention, I haven’t had a moment to read the message from Phoebe, a message that has been consuming my thoughts ever since it pinged into my inbox.
Hiding in one of the stalls, I open the email. The message loads, the text filling up the screen. I try to focus my eyes on the words when I’m interrupted by the sound of footsteps over the marble floor.
Underneath the stall I see two sets of shoes, and Grant’s voice reverberates against the tile walls. “Are you sure about this?”
I hear a breathy reply. “Yes, please. God.”
“When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember why you were upset,” Grant says, his voice hungry and deep with need as I realize what’s happening.
Meredith and Grant have snuck off for a quickie, and I’m crashing their party.
I sneak out of the stall as quietly as possible, keeping my head down as I tiptoe towards the exit. I’m only a few steps away when I see the scene reflected back to me in the full-length mirror. Grant on his knees, with a pair of legs wrapped around his shoulders, legs that belong to Katherine.
I close my eyes in hopes that this is just an optical illusion, but when I open them to find she’s still there, her fingers locked in his hair, calling out his name, I can’t believe it.
I try to sneak away but the automatic toilet flushes.
Katherine’s eyes go wide in panic as she taps Grant on the shoulder, shoving her dress back down below her knees.
Tears build at the back of my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest, the heavy thump, thump, drowning out all other sounds as I rush out of the lodge. Outside Hudson’s waiting for me, sitting in the driver’s side of the Jeep as I climb in, slamming the door behind me.
“Drive,” I command, but he doesn’t move.
My hands shake in my lap, as he reaches for me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern flooding his voice, but my eyes stay locked on the floorboards.
“Mira, talk to me.”
I shake my head, unable to look at him. “I just need to get out of here.”
He gently lifts my chin to meet his gaze, but I can barely hold it for longer than a second.
“Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
I take a breath. Then another worry constricts my lungs. Will Hudson believe me if I tell him what I saw? Will he call me a liar like Phoebe did? Will this entire mess start all over? Am I trapped in some fucked-up version of Groundhog Day?
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I reply, panicked.
“Mira, talk to me.”
“Did you ever wonder why I was able to take this wedding on such short notice?” I ask, my breath shaky. “Why I’ve been spending my weekends at Finn’s instead of at work?”
Hudson shakes his head, confused.
“It’s because I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re not.”
I shake my head again. “I am. I ruined my best friend’s wedding. I ruined our friendship. I ruined my career.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. All because I let my guard down for a second,” I cry, the familiar sting of tears building at the back of my eyes. “I thought he was just being friendly. I had no idea that . . .” I trail off.
“No idea what?”
“That he would kiss me.”
“Who kissed you?”
“Phoebe’s fiancé,” I say, letting the words hang in the air. It’s the first time I’ve said them aloud. The first time I’ve admitted what happened outside of that bridal suite. And I ready myself for judgment.
The memory replays in my head, as it has a million times before, as I think of everything I could have done differently.
“I should have done more to stop him.”
“Stop him?”
Tears stream down my face, the heavy weight of it too much to carry.
I haven’t allowed myself to cry about my breakup with Phoebe, or about what actually happened that day.
Instead I compartmentalized it, focused on fixing my reputation, on hustling my way into a paycheck.
And yet the heavy shroud of shame was always there, suffocating me.
“He was wasted,” I say, wiping my face, black mascara coming off on my fingers.
“He usually was. He was a big drinker, which was one of the many reasons I never thought he was good enough for her. But I knew better than to tell someone that their fiancé was an asshole. And I knew she wanted us to get along. So, I did what best friends are supposed to do. I laughed at his terrible jokes. I asked about his fucking day as if I cared about his earning reports. But that day he was so gone. I sent his groomsmen on a coffee run, to help sober him up, and when I came back to check on him, he was struggling with his tie.”
I clench my fists, remembering the smell of Scotch on his breath and his punchy cologne in my nostrils.
“I reached for the tie, to help. And I made some comment about how his shirt wasn’t buttoned.
I think he missed one or something, and he stared down at me, with these eyes I’d never seen before.
They were dark and hollow. And the next thing I knew he’d pushed me up against the chest of drawers and was all over me.
I tried to push him back, but he was so strong. ”
I stare down at the floorboards, picking at a loose thread on the stitching of my dress.
“It wasn’t until the wedding planner walked in, a member of Phoebe’s team, that he pulled away.
She ran straight to Phoebe of course. I told her what happened, that Cliff came onto me, but she didn’t believe me.
She told me I was jealous of her happiness.
That I wanted to ruin her relationship because I couldn’t find one of my own.
I hid in my car, until the ceremony was over, waiting until I could go back in and get my belongings.
But I swear, I wasn’t coming onto him. I genuinely thought I was helping him.
Putting in an effort because Phoebe asked me to.
But she was my best friend, I would never—”
I take a breath, the tears falling harder now.
“After the wedding community turned on me, I started to believe that maybe I had been in the wrong. That maybe I had given him some sign. That I was the bad guy after all.”
“You weren’t the bad guy, he was,” Hudson tells me, reaching for my hand.
“Then why does Phoebe hate me? Why did everyone stop talking to me.”
It is the question that has circled my thoughts for longer than I care to admit, and now doubt creeps in. If I was really the victim, wouldn’t she have heard me out?
“Mira, you were violated. And you lost someone you thought you could trust in the process. It’s fucked up. And I’m so sorry that happened to you. But none of it is your fault. You have to believe that.”
“I want to. I really do. But every time I think about it, of Phoebe choosing him, it hurts all over.”
“I know.” Hudson wraps an arm around me. “But I’m here for you, okay. You’re safe. And I believe you. I’ll always believe you.”
I sink into him, burying my head in his chest. He rests his chin on my head, stroking my hair, repeating it over and over. “I believe you.”
And for the first time the weight that’s been pressing down on me finally feels a little lighter.