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“You should never have to feel like you’re ‘getting through’ something like this,” Whitney said. “That tells me right there that this is a bad idea.”
“Quit the yappin’. She’s made up her mind,” Lizzie said.
I sighed as we left the bathroom and made our way back to the ballroom for dinner.
I headed back to my table, trying to ignore the people around me. The ballroom was beautifully decorated, but if I paid attention to it too much, I would start thinking about the brothers again.
When Michael proposed and expressed to me that we could move anywhere in the country I wanted, I was excited to go back home. Dallas, Texas would always hold my heart, especially since I didn’t blend in with the city like I thought I would. My muddy old cowboy boots and my cut-off jeans weren’t something people saw every day in New York City, and I had to quickly trade them for more professional clothing and toned-down colors. Yuck!
No thanks. I preferred my muddy boots just fine.
Though, Lizzie was right. The brothers had really accomplished a lot in my absence. The four of them owned a string of ranch resorts that fused the decadence of first-class with the warm, soothing feel of country life.
The O’Conner Ranch Resort had become a familiar name throughout the state, but it was quickly gaining ground all over the country. And when I started planning my wedding, I couldn't think of any other place I would rather be.
I spotted Michael, socializing with a group of his college friends and walked over. But as I sat down by him, my presence went unacknowledged. He continued talking to someone beside him and paid me no attention. He didn’t look over at me or address me in any way. He didn’t slip his hand onto my knee like he used to or wrap his arm around the back of my chair. It was like I was non-existent to him, even though this was our rehearsal dinner.
Even though I was about to be his wife.
Maybe I was expecting too much.
I sighed as I rested back into my chair, my eyes scanning the beautiful ballroom. The place had a country feel to it, with all the shiplap and the distressed beams that held up the high ceiling. The chandelier was covered in mason jars. It cast light in all different directions, illuminating even the darkest of corners. The blonde hardwood floors were a steep contrast to the dark-tinted shiplap, but all of it was fused together by one element: the beautiful view of a field from the windows that wrapped around the room.
“How’s your food, Michael?”
He stopped his conversation midway and slowly panned his gaze toward me.
“Hm?” he asked.
“Your food. How is it? Cooked the way you like? I made sure to talk to the chef for you,” I said.
“It’s okay. It’s not really for us anyway. You know all of this is for them,” he said.
“It could be a little for us, too. It’s why I booked the ballroom, so we could dance a little.”
“Don’t be stupid, Katie. We can’t dance at our rehearsal dinner. It’s bad luck.”
“Stupid?” I asked. “Since when is dancing at a dinner stupid and bad luck?”
“Hold on,” he said before returning to his prior conversation.
I was stunned. Had he really just called me stupid?
I could see some of the glances from the other women around the table, but they weren’t glances of pity. Instead, they were glances of understanding. Trying to silently soothe me into a lifestyle I had chosen. They sat with their hands crossed in their lap and their hair perfectly done. Their makeup was spot-on, and their dresses didn’t have a wrinkle in them. They were nothing but trophies to the men sitting beside them as laughter erupted from the table.
Laughter that made me wince.
Michael and I hadn’t laughed like that together in so long.
“I’m going to go get a drink.”
“You shouldn't be drinking tonight, Katie. You know how you get when you drink,” he said.
“It’s only a small glass of wine,” I said. “Would you like something? A beer, maybe?”
“Since when have you ever seen me drink beer for dinner?”
The look on his face reached out and painted that word on my forehead. Stupid. Michael was looking at me as if I was an idiot.
