“Yeah,” I say bitterly, “and now you’re nothing but a pathetic cheater, just like him.”
I want to take the words back as soon as I say them. I’m sinking to a level I didn’t know I could reach. Now I hate myself and him.
Ryan is immobile. He looks broken. “I guess you’re right,” he says softly.
I cover my face with my hands, stifling a sob and wiping under my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that but I’m pretty sure I’m in an altered state right now.”
Ryan gives me a pitying look and moves forward, reaching for me. I don’t know what comes over me but I fall into his embrace, tangling my hands into the back of his tux. Heat radiates off him and into me and I can feel his heart pounding against mine. I move my face back to catch my breath and before I can inhale, Ryan stoops down and kisses me. His lips are insistent and soothing and they convince me to forget about breathing.
For a second it feels right and good, a protective bubble inside a moment that is all sick and wrong. Then he squeezes me tight, so tight that the pressure jolts the last ten minutes back into my body like an electric shock.
“Don’t!” I beg, pushing him away. My face flushes red with anger and pain and the sharpest disappointment I’ve felt since my dad. “You need to go. You have to let me go.”
He doesn’t move, just stares at me. I can see he wants to wake up from this nightmare as much as I do. A minute goes by before he seems to acknowledge or accept what is happening.
“Listen to me,” I say, “we are not going to ruin Cristina’s night. We’re going to go back out there and pretend that none of this happened and then we will never see each other again. Do you understand?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I’m going to stay at Maggie’s tonight, so after the wedding go to my apartment and get—” My voice starts to quake just from saying his name in my head. I take a breath. “Get Duke and your stuff and leave.”
Ryan nods, staying quiet for almost a minute.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Kara.” His voice is strained. It’s hard to hear him and I wish I didn’t. “You were all I ever wanted.”
“I can’t do this,” I say brokenly. “Please go. I’ll come out in a few minutes.”
I don’t look back as I walk into the bathroom connected to the suite and close the door. I sink to the floor and push my head down against my knees.
Minutes pass and I finally hear the bridal suite door open, then close.
I peek outside and Ryan is gone. It takes a solid twenty minutes until I’m together enough to get back to the reception.
When I walk inside the candlelit room, I attempt to detach. It’s a useful skill to have. I used to do it well. I’m walking aimlessly, not really sure where I’m going, when Maggie appears in front of me wearing a black tea-length cocktail dress.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “I was on the phone with Hannah. Turns out she’s not loving her new Connecticut life as much as I hoped. I didn’t miss dinner, did I?”
Maggie can barely finish her question before I lock her in a bone-crushing hug. The temptation to crumble to pieces is impossibly strong but I know I have to push it back. I step away and give a cautionary swipe under my eyes with the tips of my fingers.
“What’s wrong?” she asks nervously.
“It’s bad,” I answer, my voice shaking despite my best efforts, “but I can’t talk about it now. I need you to help me.”
“I will. It’s okay, I will.” Maggie is using her therapist voice, soothing and melodic even without instruments. “Do you want to sit down? Do you want a drink?”
I shake my head, not sure what I want or need when I twist around and see Ryan and Madison in a far-off corner, deep in conversation. She places a hand on his arm, because why wouldn’t she, as they continue to talk. I let out a small whimper and turn back around to Maggie.
“All right, it’s okay,” she says, rubbing my arms and looking over my shoulder. She scans the room until her eyes stop moving and fill with ice-cold fury. A few seconds later, they return to mine and immediately soften.
“I have an idea. How about we dance for a bit? I bet if we burn off some energy, we’ll both feel better.” She pulls me towards the dance floor, positioning us deep in the crowd where only other dancing couples are in our line of vision.
“What if dancing doesn’t work?” I ask her.
The band is playing at a near explosive level and Maggie swings my arms up and down, puppeteering me into moving to the beat.
“If this doesn’t work, then we murder Ryan in a kitchen stairwell and flee to Switzerland. Easy peasy.”
She says her solution with such a sweet air that I have to laugh.
I spend the rest of the night drinking and dancing and holding Maggie’s hand, refusing to acknowledge that Ryan isn’t there—hasn’t been there since he left the reception three hours early with someone else.
The next morning, I enter my apartment wearing flip-flops and my bridesmaid dress. A beautiful soft pink Grecian gown that no longer looks flattering with my puffy eyes and pale complexion.
I walk past the kitchenette and my eyes find a bakery bag I didn’t notice yesterday morning. Knowing exactly what I’ll find, I reach inside and pull out a scone that’s cold and stale. I drop the empty bag onto the floor and toss the scone into the sink beside me without looking. I’m not even rattled when I hear
