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Peering at Austin one last time, my stomach sours, filling with a barely ignorable desire to toss him out the window. But, as much as I would love to stay and berate him for everything he's done, I need to catch up with Denise.
I need a chance to explain myself. To tell her my version of the truth. Not her brother's. Not Brittany's. Mine. The man who loves her more than life itself.
I turn and press through the crowd, but I don't move through it as easily as she does. I catch glimpses of her, signs of her departure, and I have to physically move the crowd with my hands and arms to get through, like struggling to break through an overgrown hedge.
I hear Tinsley Simon shouting somewhere in the banquet hall, but I don't even take in her words. Another person is shouting with her, too, and in the back of my mind, I recognize the voice as Ford Augustine's. If I were in my right mind, I would have been surprised to hear him so loud, so adamant. He's the quietest talker I've ever met. But I don't have a second to spare for the thought or to wonder what they're shouting for.
Peering over the heads of the crowd, I spot Denise again, a shock of turquoise fabric over by the front doors. She pulls one open and darts out into the parking lot, not even bothering to close the door behind her in her hurry.
It's a few minutes before I finally get out of the building. I blink, my eyes adjusting as I search for any sign of her. It's dark outside, long after Tinsley's idyllic sunset has come and gone. The enveloping, inescapable dark of a Texas night. Cold and uninviting.
I spend far too long darting between cars, struggling to recall where she parked the Sugar Breeze's van. When I finally discover it, I find its engines off and its seats empty. She isn't here. Her plan wasn't to drive away.
Then where the hell could she have gone?
The parking lot is huge, filled with dozens and dozens of cars. I shout her name a couple times, but my calls get easily drowned by the size of this cold metal maze and the rumble of the ocean.
The parking lot is lined with a low two-foot-tall stone wall, giving a full view of the swelling ocean just a hundred feet away. In the daytime, it was beautiful. At sunset, more so. But now, the whole place just feels oppressive. A big wet mouth swallowing the world.
The only reason I finally find her is because of Tinsley's dress. Even in the darkness, she's glowing like an angel between a pair of cars.
As I approach, I hear her speaking to Denise and see her arms wrapped tightly around my girlfriend's shoulders. Her words of comfort are framed by the low hiccupping sounds of Denise's sobs.
"It's okay, Denise. I promise everything's fine," she says. "He's been removed from the wedding. I had my guards make him leave." This is punctuated by another quiet sob. "If I had known anything about this, I wouldn't have let your brother in. I swear. He came with your assistant manager, so I didn't think anything of it."
Tinsley must spy me out of the corner of her eye because she suddenly turns to look at me. As she moves, I finally spot Denise curled up on the low wall, the sea swirling behind her. I can't see her face as she's buried it completely in her hands.
"Brett's here," Tinsley says gently. "Maybe he can—" But as she's interrupted by another choking sob, she lets her suggestion fall, hugging Denise around the shoulders even tighter instead.
Standing up, Tinsley approaches me, and even in the consuming dark, I can see the slight pinch of her lips and that almost accusatory look in her eyes. She overheard a lot more of my talk with Austin than I had assumed.
Shame grips me again, even harder this time. Denise needed this wedding to go perfectly. Her relationship with her daughter depends on it. Could my anger and stubbornness have just ruined it all for her?
"Tinsley," I say quickly, but she holds up a hand to silence me.
"No excuses, Brett," she insists, her tone serious for once. "I'm not the one you need to explain yourself to right now."
"I know. But promise that this won't affect your relationship with Denise. Whatever I've done, it's not her fault."
A sigh escapes through Tinsley's nose, her posture and hardened expression easing a bit. "No. It's not her fault."
Taking a few steps forward, Tinsley wraps me in a tight hug, as if hoping to comfort me too. For such a silly and disorganized young woman, she really is more emotionally intelligent than I've been giving her credit for.
For the moment that she's holding me, I feel hopeful. But as soon as she's let me go and started the long walk back to her wedding, I feel anxious and bereft once again.
Kneeling down before her, I put my hand tenderly on Denise's arm. "Denise…" I say softly. Her fingers part slightly as she peeks through them, a single eye searching my face. "If I had known he was going to be here, I would have—"
"Ugh," she groans, silencing me. Her hands form into tight fists, and she finally pulls them away from her face, revealing her reddened eyes and tear-covered cheeks. "Don't blame this all on him, Brett."
"I'm not trying to."
"No excuses, no bullshit, no honeyed words," she insists. "I need to know… that everything we've done together… that everything you've said to me… wasn't all based on a lie."
My fingers clench. I swallow slowly, searching through my mind for the right words. Anything I can say to make this all okay. And once again, I can feel my words failing me.
I take a deep breath. "Not everything…" I say. But even I know I don't sound convincing.
"Start from the beginning," she demands. "How did you meet my brother?"
