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I head to the restaurant, phone in hand, going through the task list for today. There are garlands hanging from the poles leading to the area the ceremony will take place, but Emily wanted flower arrangements everywhere so there are also bundles of colorful calla lilies and roses everywhere, and the smell… It’s like someone has sprayed a strong but sweet perfume over the whole area.
Cheerful voices get louder and louder, and I know, before I walk inside, that the place is full of our guests. Perhaps that free breakfast for all today was a bit too much.
“Mom,” I mumble as I stop behind her and she turns around startled. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, Honey, all’s well, the guests are all here I think.” She looks around the restaurant and I’m not sure if she means they are all in here or if they have all arrived. “I’ve checked the catering, too. Everything is ready and perfect.” She flashes a smile and goes to greet a couple that has just walked in.
Familiar faces smile at me, eager to strike up a conversation, and I smile back while I make my way to the door. There’s no time for this right now. After I check on Emily—and get dressed for the wedding—sure.
Her room is in the main building so that saves me some time. Felicity opens the door in a bright pink robe with rollers in her hair. The rest of the bridesmaids are there too, in matching outfits.
“How’s the bride-to-be?” I ask my sister. Emily stands up from her throne-like chair and gives me a tight hug. “Nervous?”
“A bit,” she whispers. The hairdresser scolds her for moving before she’s done but Emily ignores her. “See, if you’d accepted my request, you’d be getting ready with us.” She motions to the rest of the girls, and I notice that Bella seems on edge. I remember talking to her last night and I’m pretty sure we were fine. And then Morgan came—that’s where it gets blurry.
“Exactly,” I point out. This is easily a form of torture for me.
Emily grins, some of the stress washing away. We talk about the previous night a bit—she didn’t notice me leaving early—and the bridesmaids chime in with their own gossip, all aside from Bella.
After repeated scoldings from her hairdresser, I decide it’s time to let her get ready. I assure her one last time that everything is ready downstairs, and that Mom is on top of everything. “Is there anything else you want me to do?” I ask in the end.
She thinks about it for a moment and shakes her head.
“Good, I’ll go get ready then,” I tell her, and she jokes once more that I can use her team for that. I shake my head all the way out of the room until I reach the elevator.
It’s just one day. It’ll pass. I should enjoy it.
But no. It’s clearly going to be a very long day. When the doors open, I find Morgan standing there, wearing a dark gray suit. His eyes widen when he sees me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Morning,” I mumble and get inside, expecting him to leave. But he just keeps staring, his usually nonchalant face pale and hard. I glance at the floor buttons—none are red. This is definitely his floor.
I motion at the now closed door, but he just shrugs.
“I changed my mind,” he says, his tone taunting.
Keeping a distance between us at all times, I press the ground floor button.
“Is this what you’re wearing to the reception?” He braces one arm on the mirror and gives me a disapproving look. I’d forgotten how much I hated it when he did that, but I try not to let my irritation show. This day is about Emily, and only her.
Annoyed by my lack of response, he continues, “You always had that problem. Sure, it’s good to have a simple style but you overdid it. And that translated into all aspects of our life, you know. It’s hard to make new connections when you don’t make a strong impression.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
This is not the day to make a scene, I remind myself.
Morgan always knew just what to say to make me feel inadequate and worthless, all for my own good of course, and all revolving around my potential in relation to him. I’m sure that if I hang around a bit more, I’ll hear them all.
I turn to get a good look at him, examining his features, his movements, everything that he is, and realize that him breaking up with me was actually a blessing in disguise.
There’s a ringing tone and then the doors open again. I walk out, keeping a steady pace, but apparently, Morgan has a lot to say.
“And what’s with the guy? Where did you meet? He seems quite old—”
My laughter interrupts his little speech. I guess the story of my relationship with Brian hasn’t reached him yet. “That’s the last word you could use to describe him.” The image of Brian bare-chested and bent backward under the bar when limboing flashes before my eyes. Morgan catches on to that.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? He’ll leave too when he realizes you are obsessed with your job and are just…cold.”
I stop in my tracks and stare at him. Sure, his face is perfect, like it’s been designed by an artist, but that alone shouldn’t have fooled me for so long. And maybe deep down it didn’t.
