Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“So, weird as it is, make sure you call me Owen tonight,” Ben says.
His father nods. Alice’s gaze is locked on me.
“Stella, we love you so much,” she says. “And if you could find it in your heart to forgive him”
“Mom, don’t,” Ben says, cutting her off. “Just let her get through tonight.”
She sighs softly.
The elevator doors open and we all step out. Some things about this are just as I planned: I’m wearing the sleeveless baby blue dress, white shrug and navy flats I spent weeks shopping for. I spritzed on the light, floral perfume I picked out on a shopping trip with my mom a couple of weeks ago.
But...I didn’t make my salon appointment, so Claire did my makeup and quickly styled my hair into a low bun with tendrils framing my face. And I also swapped out grooms.
I burst out laughing, the tension of it all boiling over. Ben gives me a little smile of understanding.
“We’re gonna be late,” he says to his parents over his shoulder. “See you guys there.”
I had a theater phase my sophomore and junior years of high school. I mostly played secondary roles, but junior year, I somehow landed the part of Wendy in Peter Pan. For the wedding rehearsal, I channel my meager acting skills, shoving my feelings into a mental box and locking it closed.
I don’t stop smiling. I hold onto Ben’s hands as we face each other beneath a massive oak tree at the vineyard Owen and I chose for both the wedding and the reception. I laugh when the pastor tells jokes about rain. I repeat the vows like lines in a play. I do not accidentally say “cock,” and I do not accidentally say “Ben.”
Since we were running late getting here, it’s not until we’re finished with the rehearsal that I see my mom, and that’s when I lose it. She’s in a wheelchair, lacking the strength to stand for the weekend’s festivities, a blanket on her lap.
“It’s okay, baby,” she says as I approach her, my face contorted in an ugly cry.
Everyone has quieted, probably assuming I’m crying over seeing my mom like this. I want to tell her it’s all been a lie. That the summer I busted my ass waitressing to pay off my car during grad school, only to give my broke law school student fiancé $1500 so he could go to a friend’s bachelor party in Amsterdam was a dumb move. All those nights I had to wash the smell of French fry grease out of my hair probably went to pay for hookers.
Mom cups my face in her bony hands. “We talked about this. It’s a happy time, remember? We’re together and this is your wedding weekend. Dry those tears.”
I take a deep breath and reset myself. She’s right. She only asked one thing of me when we got the news at an appointment three months ago that she’d reached the end of her treatment options: stay strong. Since then, I’ve only cried at night, when I’m alone in bed.
“Where’s Ben?” Mom asks...well, Ben.
I didn’t realize he was standing right behind me. Ben gives her a sheepish grin.
“He was trying to break up a fight on his way out of the golf course this afternoon and a guy clocked him. He’s got a shiner and a pretty bad headache, so he’s staying in his room tonight.”
Mom laughs. “I guess hockey players find fights wherever they go.”
“You guys ready to eat, drink and be merry?” he asks, putting a hand on my lower back.
Damn, he’s good at this. That’s totally something Owen would say. When I look at him, I see Ben, but I can see how others would believe he’s Owen.
On the drive to the restaurant, I’m mentally scrolling through all the “work dinners” Owen’s had recently. Were there any actual dinners, or was he just eating his assistant the whole time?
“Hey, don’t do that,” Ben says, looking over at me.
“What?”
“Whatever you’re doing right now. I can tell from the look on your face it’s not good.”
I smile. “You’ve always been an observer. Owen expects everyone to react to whatever he does and says, but you...I guess you prefer to read people, don’t you?”
A corner of his lips quirks up. “That’s a fair assessment.”
“Thank you for doing this, Ben. I know you’re heading into the lion’s den with his co-workers at this dinner.”
I can’t even say his name. When I open the box of feelings locked inside my chest, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say about the man I gave my heart to ten years ago, but not now.
Happy time. Wedding weekend. For my mom.
Ben scoffs. “Like those assholes will let me get a word in edgewise. And if they do, I’ll just bullshit about billable hours and my killer briefs.”