Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cassidy
The Bridal Suite is a choking hazard, perfumes and hair products thick in the air.
Natalia, Reese, and Summer are a fortress of champagne, silk, and elaborate updos, all staring out the window at the seated crowd.
Through the window, I glimpse a cloudless, breathtaking Los Angeles afternoon sky. The kind that promises an enchanting evening.
The ceremony is scheduled for six so that by the time they’re ready for portraits after, the twinkling blue skies will ignite with the fiery hues of sunset. The sparkling sapphire waters of the Pacific stretch to meet the horizon, providing a vast, beautiful backdrop. Rows of white chairs face a pergola covered in jasmine.
Flowers are everywhere today. Peppering bouquets, lining the aisle, decorating lapels. Bountiful, scented reminders of Luke’s care and concern when he helped me resolve the floral crisis and his butchering of the word peony. The memory stings like I ran my fingers down a thorny stem.
Which is why I’m focusing on this wedding, and the wedding only.
Namely the fact that Isabelle is MIA.
She ran off to run an “errand” at four o’clock in her bridal robe, her hair and makeup fully in place, and never came back.
It is now five fifty.
I got Mom out of this suite at five by telling her Isabelle texted me to say she wants to surprise Mom with how she looked in her dress when she comes down the aisle—a panic-fueled decision that was surprisingly effective.
The bridesmaids know the truth. Isabelle hasn’t texted me anything.
The wedding coordinator sticks her head in. “We’re ready to line up!”
“Uh, all right!” My voice exits at a pitch that could break glass.
“Line up?” Natalia asks, eyes darting to the door. “How can we line up without the bride?”
“She’ll be here,” I insist, coasting on fumes of hope. “She’s coming.”
Not entirely true. She said she needed time before darting out on her mysterious errand. But I’ve known my sister my entire life and almost all of hers. Intuition tells me not to count her out. Not yet.
Plus—and I hold onto this like a life preserver—my stepdad isn’t here. Isabelle must be with Rand, and they’ve got to be on their way here.
We queue up behind the bridal suite where we’re supposed to stay out of sight until we hear our cue.
The processional music swells. Isabelle’s choice: “Stand by Me,” performed by a string quartet.
I’d love to stand by her—if her ass would show up. I’m anxious-sweating in silk. If the tables were turned, she’d never forgive me for that alone.
The second stringed instrument joins the first on a building melody. Summer’s cue.
I wave her on. “Go!”
“What do you mean go? She’s not coming, Cassidy!” Summer cries, clutching her very pregnant stomach. “This is bad.”
“She’ll be here. She just needs—”
“Time,” Summer and Reese squawk in unison.
Natalia gawks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Uh, time’s up, Cass!”
Reese’s cue—the third stringed instrument, enriching the velvet harmony—comes and goes. Reese eyes the jagged coquina edge of the building.
We really are out of time.
My thoughts spin out. “Where’s the wedding planner? Someone has to stop the music. Crap, I wish I had my phone. I don’t want to wave her down in front of the crowd…”
Reese blinks toward me. “What’s the play, Cassidy? Your call.”
“My call?” I glance frantically between the girls. “Why me?”
All their eyes remain firmly on my face.
“Why not you?” Natalia says, confused. “Who else? You’re running this show.”
Natalia’s cue comes and goes.
C’mon, Isabelle. When I said I wanted to help with the wedding, I didn’t mean to help it bleed out in front of a live audience.
There’s no decision to be made, though. I know what I have to do. It’s freaking terrible, but it must be done.
“I need to tell Mikael. He can’t just stand there waiting only to have her not show up. I’m going. Stay here.” I wave my massive bouquet with white roses and eight pounds of cascading greenery at Natalia for her to take, more than happy to distance myself from flowers.
She lifts her bouquet back, as if we’re cheers-ing.
I roll my eyes and shuffle toward the corner.
When I step into view, I all but lose my nerve. If not for years of performing in front of an audience, I might’ve.
Pretend they’re strangers.
The crowd sways with movement, leaning and whispering, making the whole audience look like a ship swaying in a storm. Half of them freeze when they see me. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Friends and acquaintances. A slew of people I’ve never seen before and will probably never see again.
Berkeley is in the back row, face contorted like she’s watching a horrific true crime documentary unfold before her eyes.
Walk fast? Walk slow?
Just walk.
I put one heel in front of the other in time with the music, a slave to the rhythm.
Mikael’s curious expression grows clearer with each step until I reach the front.
“Hey, where is everybody?” he asks. His tone is airy, as if he’s broken away from an engrossing conversation at a house party to discover half the crowd left. No fear, no worry in his eyes.
“Stand by Me” cuts away, and my stomach clenches in the brief silence.
Mikael cranes his neck. “She’s not doing one of those dance numbers is she— Oh, is this like that scene from The Office? Are people going to dance or something?” He tosses a good-natured laugh over his shoulder at his groomsmen. “You guys up to something?”
“Isabelle hates The Office,” I mumble, squeezing the bouquet.
Tell him. Rip off the Band-Aid.
“Cassidy, what’s going on?” My mother’s frantic whisper from the front row shocks me back to life.
The bridal march crescendos until my eardrums cry in protest.
I blink back to Mikael. “It’s, uh—my sister, she…”
He tilts his head. “What?”
“I don’t think…”
Fear clogs my throat. Isabelle is about to shatter this man’s heart in a thousand pieces.
His easy grin falls away. In its place, concern blooms into panic. It tugs at his brows, hollows his cheeks. Rearranges his lips into a frown. His jaw tenses as he twists to check the aisle.
It’s still empty. Brideless.
“Where is she?” he asks, his throat muscle working as he swallows.
I’ve seen that look on a man’s face before. Just once, in my rearview mirror as I left the hospital parking lot. I didn’t recognize this look for what it was on Luke because I was too blinded by my own feelings.
It’s fear of loss.
It’s love.
Mikael’s eyes lock on mine as I open my mouth, ready to say it. She’s not coming.
“My bad!” Summer screeches as she tears around the corner.
Hundreds of heads turn in unison, a shifting tide.
She waddles at double speed, smiling so hard she might sprain a cheek. “Had to pee! Messed everything up!”
Nervous laughter passes through the audience like a gust of wind. The string quartet switches abruptly back to “Stand by Me,” double speed.
Natalia and Reese are inches behind Summer, side by side. Natalia meets my eye and nods, just once, before dazzling the audience with a smile. The music buffers us until we’re tucked away in a neat line, facing Mikael. Leaving a bride-size hole in the lineup.
The crowd rises as the song switches once more. Goose bumps skitter over every inch of my skin.
There, as if she were always there, glowing in the most perfect off-white mermaid cut gown ever to grace a body, flanked by both Rand and my father, is Isabelle.
Ever poised. Ever perfect.
Beaming.
Wedding culture dictates that while everyone else is busy looking at the bride, sentimentalists should steal a look at the groom to get a glimpse at his love.
I couldn’t drag my eyes from my sister if I wanted to. And I don’t have to. I saw the depth of Mikael’s love in the flashbulb moment of his fear.
When he thought he lost her.
…
“May I have this dance?” Dad extends a hand, his hopeful eyes twinkling.
I break away from the crowd and lay my palm against his. He spins me twice before he pulls me in.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here.” A smile splits my face open. “You may have saved this wedding.”
“Can’t believe I almost missed it.” He shakes his head regretfully, sweeping his gaze around the ballroom. “Guess I needed a brilliant woman to talk some sense into me. I won’t miss another event. Never again.”
I tuck his promise in my pocket. “Good.”
“Love you, Cass a frass.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
We sway just enough that Mom comes into view, perched against the wall, swirling a crystal rocks glass.
Our eyes lock.
She lifts her chin and crosses her arms. A deep frown moves her expression from haughty to livid. Guilt slithers up my spine. The sliver of peace I’d attained with Dad’s smile casting warmth over me falls away in a rush.
I’ll hear about this. It’ll be a fight.
But that’s not what hurts. After years away, after tearing myself apart and putting myself back together, I’ve finally determined where the real pain lies. Her words are flesh wounds, but the disease is in everything she withholds. For every barb I’ve ever endured, the devastation is the things she’s never said. The things my father offers freely. I love you. I’m proud of you. I want you to be happy, even if it’s with your dad, or dancing, or outside of college, or in Asheville.
It shouldn’t be this way.
It never should’ve been this way. The effort of suppressing the injustice coursing through my veins is suddenly too much to tolerate.
When the song ends, and not a second sooner, I march across the room.
Her voice borders on indifferent. That’s how I know she’s mad. “That was some stunt you pulled, Cassidy. Played me for a fool, inviting him.”
“Isabelle wanted him here. He’s here. That’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
She scoffs. “You tricked me to get me out of the bridal suite so your dad could walk Isabelle down the aisle.”
Pressure inside my body threatens to burst. “Isabelle is happy. Look at her, Mom.”
She doesn’t bother. “She’s not happy you coerced her into involving your father. She’s just good at faking civility. You could learn a lot from her.”
“Could I?” I step closer, the twine holding me together fraying. “I haven’t heard lately all that I have left to learn. You haven’t mentioned my shortcomings in at least fifteen minutes.”
Mom floats a look over her shoulder, flashing all her veneers lest someone see us fighting, even though we’re off to the side of the bustling ballroom. “Always so dramatic. I should’ve expected something like this. You’ve done nothing but undermine this wedding at every turn. Took your sweet time getting here, waltzed in with an attitude. What happened to my sweet Cassidy? I feel like I haven’t seen her in years—”
“Enough!”
My voice echoes off the tiles, turning heads.
Berkeley materializes on my right, clutching my forearm. “You good?”
Horror moves over Mom’s face like a storm front. “Lower. Your. Voice.”
“Or what, Mom? What are you going to do?”
The muscles in her neck jump in her haste to shush me. “This is completely inappropriate behavior.”
“You don’t like it when I talk back? When I’m honest with you? Well, guess what—I’m done hiding behind a smile. I’m done pretending. I busted my butt to get here for this wedding. You wanted me to show up at these events, show everyone how perfect our family is, sugar coat my accomplishments, prance around and put on a show, here I am! I may not be the person you wish I was, but I’ve never not tried my best. I’ve never not given you everything. And it’s never. Good. Enough.”
Her watery blue eyes widen, as if I’ve actually managed to shock her. As if she’s capable of feeling for someone other than herself or seeing beyond the terror that she’s living the life she always feared: one of mediocrity and lack. “Cassidy, I—”
“Guess what, Mom: I love myself. And my life. Everything that you hate? Those are the pieces that bring me the most joy. I don’t give one single fuck that I don’t have money in the bank or that my future is unpredictable. What is it you always say? My job ‘hinges on my body and it’ll betray me’—good! I’m going to use it and appreciate it and keep following my passion. Because you only live once, and I’m not going to waste another second of it not doing exactly what I want.”
Her lips twitch. “Are you finished?”
“Not even a little bit. Berkeley, give me my phone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she says, rustling my burner from her satchel.
“What are you doing?” Mom’s voice betrays a genuine fear, and I almost feel guilt that I’ve worried her.
But then she brings a hand to her hair and fluffs it. “Are you going to record the rest of this little tirade? Broadcast to the world all the ways I’m ruining your life like an overdramatic teenager?”
My groan reaches the rafters. “Good lord, no. Thanks to this delightful conversation, I’ve realized I’m tired of silencing myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about speaking my truth and telling the man I love that he messed up. Well, pending he already replaced his phone—never mind. It’s none of your business. Until you can treat me like a person worth respecting, you’re not privy to my life. Not anymore.”
“I just want my children to be happy, Cassidy. What do you think all of this has been for?” She sweeps her satin-draped arm at the elaborate lounge, filled with her people. Her vision. Her dream wedding. “Everything I do, or encourage you to do, is for your happiness.”
“No, Mom. It’s for yours. It’s always been for yours. Excuse me.”
I maneuver through the crowd, blood surging through my veins. Awash in rightness, bypassing everyone without a sidelong glance.
Except Isabelle. I pause long enough to spare her a wink, which she returns in earnest before plastering herself to her new husband like a starfish. As she should.
I love Luke so much it hurts. Enough that I’ll walk away from him if that’s what he believes is best. But not until he hears everything I have to say. I ran away from the hospital without speaking my truth.
This can’t end without him knowing I love him. That he hurt me. It probably won’t change anything, but I won’t live my life hiding a damn thing. I won’t shrink myself even when the truth of my feelings or needs is inconvenient. Never again.
I let him see everything, and he wanted me anyway. That doesn’t just go away, even while he martyrs himself. But even if this ends with goodbye, at least I’ll know I went out swinging.