Page 69 of The Wedding Party

By the time I’ve dried my hair and dressed in my own jeans and a teal blouse from my suitcase someone brought me, I’m ready to head to the treatment facility. I’m not going for Oliver’s parents, who I believe have an agenda that is self-serving. They’ve never felt I was good enough for Oliver. He swore differently, but I saw it in their eyes past and present. I’m not even going to this facility for Oliver’s legacy, because that’s a bunch of bull. None of this is about his legacy. It’s about the family reputation. And their reputation doesn’t matter to me.

How Oliver died is what matters.

Who killed him is what matters.

Remembering is what matters.

And while I’m in that facility, I’ll talk to counselors and doctors, not family and the press. The time will give me a chance to do just that: remember, and do so without other people confusing me with their agendas and memories. It will give me time to figure how I move forward. How I do what is right. And God, I hate that I have to think about this when my mind should be solely on Oliver, I really do, but I need to figure out how to protect myself.

There’s a knock on the door and my nurse calls out, “They’re ready for you.”

I draw in a breath. Everyone is ready for me. I’m just not sure I’m ready for them. As an adopted child, there is a tendency to feel flawed, as if I am being judged as not good enough.

I don’t need a counselor to tell me this. I’ve lived with that sense of existence every day of my life. I’m certainly being judged right now and coming up exactly as I always fear: flawed. What they don’t understand is that I was never flawed in Oliver’s eyes. He was my rock, my soulmate, truly my better half. Ironically, considering the circumstances, this would all be so much more tolerable if he were by my side.

But facing this alone is my only option. I open the door and find Nurse Ava standing in front of me. She gives me a quick inspection as the door closes behind her. “You okay, honey?” she asks.

My eyes burn, but somehow, I contain the tears. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” I whisper, but I offer her my wrist. “Go ahead and cuff me. The sooner I finish the walk of shame the better.”

“The cuff is silly,” she says. “I’ll let the fools forcing this on you cuff you. I won’t do it.”

This is the first time she’s shared an opinion on anything to do with me, and it gives me hope that she, and others, won’t believe I’m a horrible person capable of bad things. There’s a knock on the door, and Ava squeezes my arm before heading in that direction. About thirty seconds later, my attorney, Ms. Littleton, or Danielle, as she prefers I call her, steps into the room.

Ms. Littleton, as I will continue to call her—we are not pals or friends—is wearing black pants, which are neutral enough, but her blouse is a bright red silk, which is not what someone who is trying to be discreet wears. That’s the problem with the Phoenix family that even the Phoenix family calls a problem. Someone is always using them for money and/or fame. I don’t know what I think about my new attorney’s skills just yet, but her motives are clear.

I represent money and fame.

The only good thing about that is that she gets more of both if she handles my situation with positivity attached.

“Ready?” she asks.

“For this to be over,” I say. “Now what?”

“We get the heck out of town,” she says, “and we do so quietly. Agent Castle will be escorting us. That doesn’t mean an interview. No talking to her. None. You understand?”

“Why can’t I get it over with?”

“Because you need time to heal, and we need time to prepare.”

There’s another knock on the door and Ms. Littleton opens it. She then backs up to allow an officer to enter. He steps to me and says, “Wrists.”

I inhale and present my hands. He uses a black zip tie of some sort and shackles both of my wrists this time. At least before, one was free. I’m even more ready now to be done with this.

At that moment, Agent Castle walks into the room. “We’re ready to move,” she states, her eyes meeting mine, and I know she’s trying to read me. I’m trying to read her.

But I can’t.

I wonder if she can read me.

And if she can, does she see a woman who loved her fiancé, or a woman who killed him?

Chapter Sixty

ANDI

Per York, the chopper is confirmed and the airport security arrangements are coordinated. Additionally, the hallways are cleared for the walk to the car.

When Carrie steps out of the room, she’s framed by Ms. Littleton and me. Two officers walk before us and two behind. Once we’re at the exit, we’re halted while one officer clears our path. She gives the go-ahead, and the door is opened. I motion for Ms. Littleton to go ahead of Carrie.