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Rory nods in acknowledgment as Cormac raises his glass in salute.
“Yer a good man with a big heart. Yer willin’ to overlook the past.”
I shuffle uncomfortably because I suddenly feel like this speech is directed at me.
“Ye give people a second chance. And ya forgive. Yer kindness is somethin’ ya got from yer ma.”
The crowd chuckles while I gesture for the waiter to bring me another glass of champagne. This entire speech is Cormac’s way of telling me that his son is perfect while I’m the whore who fucked her brother.
“So, let’s raise our glasses and celebrate the happy couple. Cheers!”
The room clinks their glasses, drinking to Rory’s and my engagement as I throw back my drink, suddenly light-headed from all the booze I’ve had in such a short amount of time.
Rory seems oblivious to the fact as he takes the microphone from his father so he can thank our guests. I stand off to the side, staring into the crowd, which suddenly looks double in size.
“Ach, that’s a hard act to follow,” Rory teases, looking at his father, who smirks.
I’m suddenly angered he would choose the words that he did because his passive-aggressive approach is not necessary. I know how he feels about me. He doesn’t need to embarrass me in front of our guests—guests who have no right to judge me when Cormac isn’t exactly an angel.
He once was best friends and in partnership with Connor Kelly, the biggest drug dealer and bad guy in all of Belfast. He has no right to make me feel bad for my past.
No right.
When Rory turns over his shoulder to look at me mid-speech, I realize I’ve spoken those words aloud. I try to act normal, but when my gaze falls on Darcy whispering something into Punky’s ear, my ruse falters.
I quickly down another glass of champagne, hoping to suppress the need to throw up.
“To my beautiful fiancée, Camilla, I love you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with ya.” Rory raises his glass while the masses follow and salute our happy union, all unaware of the conflict raging within me.
It’s suddenly too much, and I’m going to be sick.
Before Rory has a chance to kiss me, I quickly excuse myself and make a beeline for the door, hand over my mouth to stop my vomit. Guests move out of my way, gossiping no doubt about my sudden departure. But let them talk. I don’t care anymore.
The moment I find the nearest bathroom, I yank open the door and heave into the toilet. Gripping the toilet bowl, I dry retch, hoping to expel this emptiness I feel. But I only feel worse.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
Unrolling some toilet paper, I wipe my mouth and toss it into the toilet. Coming to a shaky stand, I flush it and make my way over to the basin. Peering into the mirror, I blanch when I see my pallid complexion. I look like shit.
My red ball gown would put any Disney Princess to shame, but I suddenly feel like a fraud. The thick jeweled bracelets confirm this as they conceal what I did. It’s all too much, and I wonder if that is because I’m trying to make up for something that isn’t there. I thought if I looked like a happy fiancée, I would surely feel like one.
But I don’t.
All I feel is numb.
Turning on the faucet, I gulp down some water to clear my head, but the static isn’t because I drank too much—no. I’m drunk on something,someoneelse, and I don’t know what to do about it.
As I pop a mint from the conveniently placed glass bowl on the counter, there is a knock on the door. Before I can tell whoever it is that I’ll be out in a minute, it opens, and who I see has me gripping the marble counter in fear I’ll fall down.
Punky closes and locks the door. He doesn’t move. He leans against it, watching me closely.
My heart begins to beat faster, and I’m suddenly animated in ways I never thought possible again.
“Some speech,” he finally says, understanding why I left so suddenly to puke up my guts. “Don’t let Cormac get to ya. He was always a self-entitled bastard.”
I nod, embarrassed at how rapidly my breaths leave me.
Punky pushes off the door while I gulp, still clutching onto the counter for support.
