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I stand up then, even though I don’t move from my sister’s side.
“Of course not. That would require you to actually care about how I feel.”
She sneers and steps toward me. “The girl you love is marrying someone else because she didn’t love you enough to come after you, Remi. She chose that. I didn’t do that. You can’t blame me for all of your troubles—”
“Please stop,” Regan stands up and shouts. “Please don’t fight. Don’t say such ugly things to each other. Please. Not today.” She looks between us and her eyes are full of a begging plea.
The fight in me dissipates. It’s not about me today. My grandfather asked me to walk Regan down the aisle and I’ve seen it as a solemn and sacred responsibility.
“I’m sorry, Reg. You’re right. But you have to decide because it’s not fair to keep him waiting. Do you want to go or should we walk down that aisle?”
She looks down at her hand and twists the large solitary-stone engagement ring around on her finger. Her fiancé Marce
l is twenty years her senior. He’s the owner of the multinational media company that owns the television station Regan works for. And he got her pregnant. When she told me I hadn’t taken it well.
“I want to do it.” Regan’s quiet statement jolts me back to the present.
“Of course you do. You’re not a fool.” My mother casts her eyes on me so that it’s clear what she was leaving unsaid.
“Come on. I’ll let them know you had a snafu with your dress and are on your way out.”
“Oh, and Remi… you should use the ring I gave you soon.”
“Oh, Mother. I’ve decided I’d rather pluck my eyes out with hot pokers than marry Joni. So, I’ll be giving it back to you. Maybe give it to Tyson. He’ll need it before I ever do.”
“You are such a disappointment.” She casts those words over her shoulder as she walks out and I look at Regan in shock.
“Remi. It’s okay.” My sister tucks her arms through mine and pats my hand reassuringly. “We’ll get through this together. Like we have everything else. I’m just glad you’re here and able to give me away.”
“I am, too. Come on. Let’s go get married.”
20
TRY
KAL
I don’t know why I came. I didn’t decide until an hour ago. When I got back from CASA, I told Paul I was sick. He believed me. For once, he relented and would have let me stay where I was if I’d insisted.
But, the truth is, I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Remi again. I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation at CASA, and the way he’d looked when I said I was pregnant. The way it felt to hear he didn’t get my letters. There is so much unsaid between us. So many moments deferred by life.
I have managed to convince myself that everything is as it should be. We’re both where life intended us to be. And every time I think about my baby, I feel so much love that I know it alone can sustain me. I’ve got my dream job. I’m living the happily ever after I never thought I’d have. So, why does it feel so hollow?
When the church doors open and Remi and Regan stepped onto that carpet, I had known for a fact that this had been a mistake. I should have stayed at the hotel. Being here with Paul only exacerbated the feeling of “wrong” that has settled on my shoulders like a cape. I don’t love Paul. I don’t think I ever could – at least not the way I think. Because that belongs to someone else.
Now, the party is in full swing. Paul and I are seated at the table farthest away from the bride, groom, and bridal family. I’ve watched Remi lead his sister in the traditional father-daughter dance. All of that young charm has morphed into a mature charisma that makes everyone smile as he walks by. He’s the most handsome man in the room. His hair is closely cropped, the strength of his jaw is magnified by his short, immaculately groomed beard.
I wish he was mine.
“You want another Shirley Temple?” Paul asks and I give him a wan smile and nod. “And a glass of water, too, please.”
“Be right back. There’s an open bar, so I’m going to get another one of these.” He jiggles his empty lowball glass. I bite my tongue against the warning that he’s drinking too much because the last thing I want is to have a fight with him.
“Hey, friend. Can I have this dance?”
I freeze in my seat. It’s Remi.
I turn and take him in. He looks like a tall glass of ice water in the middle of a sandstorm. His tuxedo is cut to fit, and fit, it does. So very, very well.
