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“A mistake that might have cost my future with Emma,” I add.
“You need to talk to her,” Ben presses.
“She won’t want to see me.”
“That’s irrelevant,” the older man says. “You have to be able to give your side of the story. Besides, you can’t know what will happen. Just like you couldn’t have known before. Wouldn’t you prefer to at least have tried, than wonder with regret?”
I shrug, and I can’t deny that Ben is making perfect sense, but still, there’s something in the back of my mind that tells me talking to Emma will not work. Jackson throws me a look. I think he feels sorry for me, and so, takes his father’s attention off me, and onto the wedding. I’m half listening to them, and half contemplating Ben’s words. Maybe he’s right. But I’m not convinced.
The following day went just the same. All the trucks arrived, and everyone got to work. When the marquee was fully erected, Bree, with her clipboard of checklists in hand, was eager to hand out other jobs to me and Jackson. At some point, Mom arrived with my suit. She looked at me sadly when I asked about Emma.
“She’s not great, honey. But I’m sure she’ll come out of it. Maybe you can get talking to her tomorrow at the wedding.”
I nod. “Yes. Maybe.”
Seeing the great production going on, with many people rushing back and forth, Mom didn’t stay. She kissed me lightly on the cheek, bid me farewell, and told me she’d see me in the morning. I waved goodbye as the truck travelled down the driveway.
That evening, Jackson stayed at Ben’s. Bree and Jackson wanted to keep to the wedding tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before her wedding day. Besides, her family was coming up from New York. While they were staying in a nearby hotel, they wanted to spend the night with her before the wedding.
While I had struggled to sleep the last couple of nights, I was that exhausted after all the work we had done in the past two days that when my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep almost immediately. The last thought that passes my mind, is the chance I’ll have tomorrow, to speak to Emma.
With my suit on, I make my way downstairs. Daniel, Jackson’s younger brother, is looking very dapper, and I tell him so. Ben, too, looks dashing. I find the man of the hour in the kitchen, sipping coffee.
“Wow,” I say, looking Jackson up and down. While he lives in a suit for his job, a wedding suit is a different ball game. “You look like a million bucks.”
“Stop it,” he speaks like a girl, and swipes a feminine hand at me. “You’re making me blush.”
I grin at his antics and shake my head. “Where’s the coffee at?” I say, looking directly at the coffee pot. After I pour a cup, I sit down at the breakfast bar. “Just think, the opportunity to lose your freedom is only hours away,” I say sarcastically.
It’s Jackson’s turn to grin. He walks around the breakfast bar and looks down at me. “You sleep any better last night?”
“I did. But then, running around under the direction of your soon-to-be wife will do that to a man.”
“Yes. I already know who’ll be wearing the trousers in our house. I’m also completely fine with it.”
A little time later, guests start to arrive. The ushers lead them down to the marquee, and people get settled into their seats. I’m out on the porch watching them, when I hear Jackson call that my parents have arrived. My gut clenches, and I take a deep breath. I’m going to see her again, and I do not have a clue what I’m going to say. Sorry, just doesn’t seem to be meaningful enough. But what else can I offer?
Whatever it is, I have realized that Ben is right. It’s better to at least try, than regret it later if I don’t. I make my way to the front of the house. Cars are being parked in another one of Ben’s fields, and then the guests are returning to the house to be directed to the marquee. I stand on the front step of the house, waiting to see her.
I see Dad first, who throws his hand up in a wave. Then I see Mom. She’s walking beside Sylvie. I wait for another second, but no one else follows on behind. Of course, Sylvie wouldn’t leave Emma behind. She would have her right by her side. I frown as they close the gap between us, and then it hits me.
Emma hasn’t come.
I walk down the front steps and meet them on the dusty driveway. Mom looks saddened again, and Dad gives me a consoling look. “She didn’t come,” I say, stating the obvious.
“She said that it would be better for everyone if she stayed away,” Sylvie explains. “She thinks her presence here will ruin Jackson and Bree’s big day, and she could not live with herself if she did that.”
“Is she still going home?” I ask, now desperate to know if she might be packing her bags this very minute.
“I’m not sure. I did try and talk her round on the night you left, and she seemed to agree to stay. But I can’t say it was with any conviction, Finn,” Sylvie says sadly. “Maybe she just needs some time.” Sylvie reached out and placed a hand on my arm in a gesture of comfort.
And now, I’m conflicted. On the one hand, I have Ben and Jackson telling me I should go and talk to her. On the other, I have Sylvie telling me I should give her time. On top of all that, I’m completely devastated that my actions have caused her to stay home alone, when she could have been here, enjoying Jackson and Bree’s wedding day.
Mom, Dad, and Sylvie, head down to the marquee, and I head back into the house. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just know I don’t particularly want to converse with anyone else. I walk into the kitchen and settle back down at the breakfast bar. With a huge sigh, I drop my head in my hands.
Sometime later, I look up at the clock and know it’s nearly time I was at the marquee. Straightening my jacket, I leave the kitchen, cross the field, and find a seat at the back. The music begins a moment later, and then everyone stands. Bree looks absolutely stunning, and I can hear whispered gasps and murmurings of delight as she walks down the aisle with her father. Jackson has a smile on him that would light up the world, and for a moment, I forget my own problems and feel happy for him.
The moment doesn’t last.
