“Good girl.” She grins. “We will wine and schmooze for a bit, then Daddy and Martin will do a speech followed by Gregory giving a loving toast to the beautiful bride-to-be and the announcement of your wedding.”
“Mother, I—” Greg goes to speak up but stops himself. My heart beats quickly. If this man stands up for us right now, I swear I will get on the floor and kiss his feet. Seconds feel like hours waiting for the next thing to come out of his mouth. “Yeah, OK,” is all he says.
Disappointment fills my bones. He is so ingrained to do what is asked for his family that he pushes his own feelings aside. He is weak.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, loud enough for them both to hear.
“What’s ridiculous, Harriet, is you being so selfish and ungrateful,” Mrs Belfour snarls quietly before returning to a natural expression. “Now, darlings,” she chimes, loud enough for any passing ears, “I must go meet our guests. Enjoy the party.”
She stands, smoothing out her red cocktail dress and taking her half-empty champagne over to join Mr Belfour and thegroups of socialites in the corner.
I down my drink.
“You don’t have to be so rude, you know,” Greg whispers.
“Me? Are you kidding me? What do you want me to do, Greg? You have basically kidnapped me and forced me to be with you to stop you exposing my family! My very peaceful family I may add.”
His eyes darken. “Harri, I swear to God, carry on and I will not be so forgiving. Stop acting like we’re being so awful. You grew up in this, it’s in your blood. Well, with whatever else is in there.” He looks me up and down. “This isn’t just about you. You think I like being with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be with me? Yeah, I did fuck up, but you were so cold to me. I knew you didn’t want me from the moment you started changing. You are not the complete victim and life with me is not horrible. I accept you for whatever you are, and we could just have a nice life full of the things we’re used to. So just grow up.”
He stands and leaves me sat there alone, overlooking the balcony at those below dancing to the string quartet as the faux snow continues to fall. The people below me are completely oblivious to the heart breaking in my chest above their heads. My anger turns to sadness until a mixture of emotions swirls through my body and into my throat.
He is right. This is it. This is how my life ends. A vision of wealth and opulence. Something I used to long for as a child.
I try composing myself and lift myself from my seat. The tears start to bind in my eyes ready to spill over. My chest tightens in panic. This is it.
I click over another waiter. “Sorry,” I stutter. “I didn’t mean to call you over like that. I really need a drink.”
The waiter, acknowledging the panic in my eyes, says, “Of course. I have whiskey sours here.”
“I’ll take two.” I grab them off the tray before he even has thechance to do it for me. I knock them both back right after each other, the whiskey burning my throat as it goes down.
He shifts on his feet, concern in his eyes. “I know it’s not my place…” he quietly whispers, leaning down to me, “but are you OK?”
I sit dazed for a moment, waiting for the alcohol to start its magic. “Yes, sorry.” I smile at him. “I’m fine, just thirsty.” I take one more drink from his tray.
He doesn’t believe me and it’s written all over his face. I try to ease him. “Honestly, I’m just thirsty.” I smile sweetly again through my anguish.
He goes to say something but instead nods then walks away. He knows I am not OK, but he also knows he is not allowed to chat with guests. The unspoken rule.
I breathe and sip this drink instead of downing it like the other two. I walk over to the balcony to look below me. People are chatting and laughing. No clue that up here my heart is breaking into a million pieces. What I’d give to be as naive and blinded as those below me. Just going about their evening not caring about tomorrow.
The sight of the marbled floor below me gives me a dark passing thought. If I just slip over the edge, then it would all be over. The dark and terrifying thought is quickly overtaken by the thought of me not even being here to protect Sam. Lola. My family.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I turn to see my father as he also leans over the balcony surveying those below us. His eyes meet mine though his mask. “I heard you’ve been quite the problem child today,” he groans in his deep voice.
“Oh, yeah? If you think today I am a problem, you are not going to like what is coming.” I turn to him. “Have you even got an ounce of love in there?” I look deep into his eyes trying to find his soul or something good within him. “Please.”
“Love is overrated.” His voice is cold and unemotional.
Anger builds in my chest. “You are just rotten, through and through.” I turn to walk, and he grabs my wrist pulling me back.
“You fuck this up for me, Harriet, and I’ll personally see to it that your little boyfriend is put out for the world to see.” His eyes are burning into me.
This man in front of me, he is not the father I remember. We were never close, but he was never hateful towards me. Not like this. Money does awful things to desperate men. My heart aches. He loosens his grip on my wrist enough for me to pull it back to me.
“I’m not fucking around.” He stands for a moment looking at me making sure I have understood his threat. Then leaves me alone at the balcony.
I feel like my breath has been taken out of my lungs, the music turning into a blur along with the chatter and laughter. I need to get away from them.
