“Better?”
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay, Bente?”
Her question opened a floodgate of emotions I’d been holding back since dawn. I inexplicably burst into tears, ruining my inch-thick makeup in an instant.
Bridget got to me before Charli did. “Don’t cry, Bente,” she soothed. “It’s a happy, happy day today.” She patted my knee.
A painful sob caught in my throat. “I know, baby. I am happy.”
Charli thrust a handful of tissues at me. “It’s okay to be nervous.”
Dabbing my eyes was futile. I could practically feel the mascara running down my cheeks. “Were you nervous before your wedding?” I asked.
“I can’t actually remember.” She half smiled. “I can remember being really excited, though. It was like setting off on a huge big adventure without having a clue where we were headed.”
There was still excitement in her voice. It made me wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I desperately wanted to marry Ryan. I’d spent weeks promising myself that I could get through this day to make that happen. I was beginning to realise I’d been lying to myself the entire time. How I handled that would probably determine my whole future.
From the minute I broke into the Décarie circle, my game plan was to lie low and gain acceptance by toeing the line. I wasn’t like Charli. I didn’t resent the trappings of wealth and I found no joy in rebelling against the lifestyle. But there were consequences for being easygoing and agreeable. The consequences that day were champagne fountains, beaded dresses and a hopeless feeling of dread.
I looked at my dress. “Look at me, Charli.” I thumped my hands on my lap. “This is just the beginning of a day of madness.”
“Oh, Bente,” she said pityingly. “How did you wind up in this mess?”
Admitting to treason was harder than I thought it would be. The words came out in a pathetic mumble. “I just went with the flow and followed the rules.” And now I was drowning. “I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I should’ve been braver and spoken up weeks ago.”
I waited for her to say something encouraging enough to pull me out of my funk. It took a while, but she finally came through. “Following the rules only takes you so far,” she said gently. “Sooner or later you have to forget them and play by your heart.”
I nodded in complete agreement.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I bunched up my skirt as if I was screwing up paper. “Not this,” I whispered hoarsely. “I can’t go through with it.”
77. MITIGATING DAMAGES
Ryan
Not a single phone call that day had brought good news, so when Adam’s phone rang I was preparing for the worst. When he turned his back on me and began speaking in a muted whisper, I knew I was right to be worried. An excruciating length of time passed before he turned to me.
“Now don’t panic,” he warned, “but there’s been a slight hitch.”
“What hitch?”
Even with extra thinking time he wasn’t able to word it gently. “That was Charli,” he began. “Bente just called off the wedding.”
That wasn’t a slight hitch. It was a catastrophic disaster.
I fell back onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. “Just freaking perfect.”
I wasn’t even shocked. I knew it was on the cards from the minute I woke that morning, which meant I should’ve been better prepared for it. Instead, I could feel my hands beginning to shake as despair set in.
“I said don’t panic,” Adam repeated. “Charli wants us to go over there.”
I shook my head. “I can’t deal with this, Adam.”
Adam grabbed my arm and forced me to my feet. “You have to,” he demanded. “Some things don’t go according to plan, Ryan. Just change course and get back on track.”
“How?” I demanded.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Let’s just get over there and figure something out.”
***
Along with the rest of the day, the weather had taken a nasty turn. If I was superstitious, I’d probably consider it to be another bad omen to add to the list. But I couldn’t allow craziness to take hold, so I put it down to it being stock standard October weather. I leaned my head against the window of the cab, enjoying the coolness of the glass while rain beaded on the outside.
The usually short journey seemed to take forever, made even longer by the fact that neither of us said a word. I don’t know what was occupying Adam’s thoughts, but I was busy trying to work out how I’d cope if Bente had called us off as well as the wedding.
I knew I didn’t deserve her, but no matter how deficient I was in some areas I’d given her my all. That had to count for something, and I planned to remind her of that while I was begging her to change her mind.
Avoiding the rain gave me a good excuse to run from the cab to the door without seeming desperate. I bolted through the foyer, quickly thanking the doorman on the way past. But by the time we got to the eighth floor I’d well and truly slowed my roll. I had no idea what to expect when I walked in, and no clue what to say.
Bente was on a chair in the centre of the room, looking miserable and swamped by an excess of white fabric that she’d bunched up on her lap. Charli was nowhere to be seen. At least Bridget was happy to see us. She scooted across the room to her dad, pausing briefly to gift me a quick leg hug on the way.
“Look at my dress, Daddy,” she demanded. “I’m still very clean.”
“Nice work, baby.” He scooped her up and turned to me. “We’ll leave you two to talk,” he offered before carrying Bridget down the hall.
I appreciated the gesture, but a private moment was all but impossible in that apartment. Ignoring the fact that my brother and his family were holed up in the bedroom, I set about trying to reclaim my happy-ever-after.
I crouched in front of Bente. “Hi,” I said weakly.
“Hello,” she whispered.
I put my hand under her chin and tilted her head so she’d look at me. “What’s going on?” I asked gently.
“I can’t go through with it, Ryan,” she replied. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could but I can’t.”
Her demeanour was perfectly calm, zombie like. She looked a bit like a zombie too. Long streaks of black marked the tracks of tears. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d finally had enough and called it off. I was the worst offender when it came to pressuring her. I’d pushed for an early wedding date and then had the nerve to take a step back when the drama of planning it took hold. She’d tried to tell me a hundred times that it was becoming too much to bear. I was under the assumption that we’d both be able to suck it up and handle it. Clearly I was wrong. Pecan pie girl folded at the finish line.
Begging her to change her mind seemed pointless, but I was desperate enough to try. I plotted a very good argument in my head. It was long and detailed and perfectly summed up my feelings. What came out of my mouth was somewhat lacking. “I love you. I wonder if you know that?” I couldn’t be sure. At that point, I wasn’t sure about anything.
Hope flooded my body as she answered. “I know how you feel about me, Ry.”
“It’s not about what I feel for you, Bente,” I clarified. “It’s about what I’ve never felt for anyone but you. Please don’t take that away from me.”
She let go of her bunched up dress and fell forward, throwing her arms around my neck. “I’m not taking anything away,” she whispered in my ear. “I just don’t want to do it this way.”
I felt a moment of relief until thoughts of the bigger picture kicked in. Calling off the wedding was going to be a logistical nightmare. In just over an hour, three hundred guests were due to front up at church expecting to see us get married.
I released my hold on Bente and stood. The zombie bride remained glued to the chair.
“Right,” I muttered, trying to figure out some semblance of a plan. “We can still make it work. A quickie wedding at the marriage
bureau. What do you think?”
Bente nodded weakly. “Sounds good.”
It wasn’t ideal. She’d vetoed that idea when I first mentioned it, hoping for something slightly grander. But the alternative now terrified her so much that a quick civil ceremony had become her dream wedding by default.
“I’m going to have to call my parents,” I said bleakly. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” she whimpered, getting upset again. “I’ve put you in a horrible position.”
I reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “No you haven’t. As long as we’re together, my position is good.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Mom was going to be devastated, embarrassed and probably hysterical. And when she recovered she’d surely kill me, which meant my position wasn’t good at all. But Bente didn’t need to hear this, so I didn’t share the thought. I turned around at the sound of little feet stampeding down the hall.
“Can I come out now?” asked Bridget, rounding the doorway.
“Of course.” I forced a smile. “Where’s your mama?”
“Getting changed,” replied Adam, appearing behind her.
“I’m keeping my dress on,” announced Bridget, grabbing the hem of her skirt and flipping it over her shoulders. “It’s like big wings, but I won’t fly with them, Ry,” she promised.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” I replied.
Adam picked Bridget up. “So, what’s the plan from here?”
“We’re going to head down to the marriage bureau,” I explained, looking at Bente. “I have to marry this girl before she changes her mind again.”
“I won’t,” she said quietly. “As long as I don’t have to do it in a church or in this dress.”
I stared at Adam feeling a woeful expression creep across my face. “I have to call Mom.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Of course I do,” I insisted. “She’ll be beside herself. You smashed her wedding dream to bits years ago. I’m about to do the same thing.”
Adam shrugged as if it was no big deal. I wanted to smack him, or at least shake sense into him. I only held off because he had my niece in his arms. “It’s the right thing to do, Adam.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Or maybe you could just come up with a way of keeping her happy.”
Impossible, I thought. There was no way around it, and for a man who claimed to be smarter than me, he should’ve realised it too. “I hope you’ve got a plan, genius, because I haven’t,” I snapped.
“I have, as it happens.” He was way too smug to be bluffing. “Three words for you. Mitigate. Your. Damages.”
Lawyer-speak. I understood it better than the fairy nonsense he usually came out with.
“How?”
“What does Mom want most out of this day?” he asked.
“Power and glory,” I muttered.
“No she doesn’t,” Bente corrected. “She wants to see her son get married. She’s been telling me that from the beginning. She has photos of the family on her dresser. It kills her that she doesn’t have wedding pictures.” She turned to Adam. “Charli is a photographer and you didn’t get a single picture of your wedding day.”
“I know.” He grinned. “We forgot.”
“That’s all she wants, Ryan,” Bente told me.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “So how do we fix that?”
No one needed to say a word. Charli appeared, solving every single problem we had without speaking.
The long ivory gown she was wearing looked vaguely familiar. When she slowly twirled to show it off, the bow on the back jogged my memory. It was her wedding dress.
“What do you reckon?” she asked, smoothing her hands down the front. “Still fits, right?”
Adam answered by hauling her in close and crushing her with a kiss.
“You’re a bride girl, Mum,” chimed Bridget, trying to wriggle out from between her parents.
“I am,” she confirmed, making space for her.
“Get married to my daddy, okay?” came the demand.
“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling at her daughter. “I haven’t had a better offer.”
“What are you doing, Charlotte?” Overwhelmed, I choked out the question. Bente wasn’t faring much better. She’d started sniffling again.
“We’ll be your ring-ins,” Charli offered. “That way, the queen will still get to see one of her precious princes get hitched. Hopefully she won’t mind the unscheduled change to the programme.”
“You’re okay with this?” I asked Adam.
“Of course.” He laughed blackly and gestured at his wife. “Look at her, Ryan. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I shook my head. “Not today.”
Not any day. I wasn’t too much of a jerk to admit that my younger, smarter brother had had it right from the beginning. Tinker Bell and her crazy ways were perfect for him. I just wasn’t going to admit it out loud.
I lurched forward, catching all three of them in a hug. “Thank you,” I mumbled inadequately.
“Thank us later,” replied Charli, shrugging free. “You’re going to make us late for our wedding.”
“Can I come?” asked Bridget, grabbing Adam’s attention by taking his face in her hands.
“You have to come.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “You’re my best girl.”
78. LOW KEY
Bente
I’d selfishly pushed us dangerously close to the edge of disaster that day. I wasn’t sure that I deserved a second chance, but was eternally grateful for the one offered to me by the people who’d soon become my family. I had no hope of properly expressing it at that moment so chose to stay quiet and concentrate on pulling myself together instead.
Ryan seemed a little shell shocked too, and it lasted a long time. He hardly said a word to me on the cab ride back to our apartment, which could only mean he had a lot on his mind.
I reached for his hand. He squeezed my fingers in reply, silently assuring me that we were okay. The tiny gesture brought me hope. My inability to follow through might’ve smashed the day to pieces, but I hadn’t damaged us.
***
Getting undressed brought instant relief. I demanded that Ryan stay in the living room while I changed. “We have a chance at a do-over,” I reasoned, bundling up my sparkly dress and throwing it in the corner. “We’re going to do it right. No seeing the bride before the wedding.”
“That might be difficult,” he called through the closed door. “I only called for one car.”
“No seeing the bride before she’s ready then,” I amended. He followed up with a wonderful low laugh that I’d given up hope of hearing again that day.
“I love you, Ryan,” I declared for no particular reason.
“Can you love me from this side of the door, please?” he asked. “It’s lonely out here.” His pitiful tone made me giggle. He sounded as if I’d locked him in a cupboard.
“Two minutes,” I promised.
I pored through the rack of clothes in the closet, trying to find something to wear. Only one outfit stood out. I slipped into Ryan’s favourite red dress and moved onto phase two of operation low-key bride.
Washing my face worked wonders, although I would’ve spent more time redoing my makeup if not for the impatient demands coming from the other side of the door. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but looking at my reflection made me realise I’d achieved something far more important than flawless makeup. I looked happy. And for the first time in weeks, I looked relaxed.
I unpinned my hair and brushed it out. “What do you think?” I asked, swinging the door open.
A slow smile crept across his perfect face. “I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now.”
Once in a while, right in the middle of mayhem, life throws us a moment of clarity. I’d completely screwed up our wedding day, burdening him with unimaginable drama in the process and he still felt lucky. “You must really love me,” I concluded, thinking
out loud.
“At Black Plague level, sweetheart.”
I refused to give into the urge to get him naked. We had a wedding to go to. “Do you have everything?”
Ryan patted his pocket. “I’ve got the rings and I’ve got the licence.”
“We need ID,” I added.
“I think we need a couple of witnesses too,” he said.
“Who?” Every person we knew was sitting in church waiting for us to arrive.
“What about Tiger and Earl?” Ryan suggested. “We could swing by the club and pick them up.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “You want a couple of grizzly old gangsters to bear witness for us?”
“Yeah. Do you have any objections?”
I shook my head. I’d objected enough for one day. As far as I was concerned, it was a perfect idea.
79. DEAD ENDS
Ryan
It took longer to round up Tiger and Earl than Bente. Fifteen minutes after being told to wait, I stood at the base of the stairs and called up to them. “Nearly ready, Earl?”
No reply.
“Now what?” Bente asked.
I shrugged. “Just give them another minute.”
I’d expected to have to talk the old men round when it came to bearing witness. I’d done a lot of pleading that day and was becoming embarrassingly good at it. But they hadn’t needed convincing. They just needed time to get spruced up.
Earl and Tiger finally made their way down, both clinging to the balustrade to steady themselves.
It wasn’t hard to see why it had taken them so long. They were dressed to the nines, making me wonder where they thought they were going.
“Vintage threads, Tiger?” I had to ask. No reputable tailor in the last forty years would’ve been caught dead working with olive plaid tweed.
“I’ve had it a while,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles across his chest.
Earl went for the vintage look too, opting for a brown pinstriped blazer. It would’ve been a great cut on someone a foot taller, like his friend Tiger who’d lent it to him.
Tiger donned a black trilby, Earl grabbed his cane, and we were good to go. “You ready?” grumbled Tiger. “I’m tired of waiting.”