by Portia Moore
Madison loves my family, but she’s never been around this many of them at once, and most of them she’s never met before, or only met briefly. It makes sense that she’d be nervous about it, I remind myself. Madison doesn’t have a large family or a wealthy one, and all of this probably makes her feel out of her comfort zone. I just need to be supportive, and she’ll go back to her normal, happy self once we’re home.
But then she sinks down in her chair a little, closing her eyes, and I can’t help but worry all over again. “Are you okay?” I can’t resist asking.
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “That bug I caught did a number on me.”
It occurs to me that she might not feel well enough to dance, but when the dinner plates are whisked away and the music starts, she leans her head against my shoulder as we watch Tiffany and Philip walk out onto the dance floor. “I can’t wait to dance with you in a little while,” I murmur to her, hoping that she’s feeling the same way. “I love dancing with you.”
She makes a small noise, and I squeeze her hand. “If you’re not feeling up to it, that’s okay, too,” I tell her. “We don’t have to stay too late if you’re feeling sick again.”
“No, I’m okay,” she says quickly. “Just a little tired and overwhelmed is all. A lot of new people.”
See? She’s just nervous. Nothing is wrong.
Jackson and Cassandra go out to the floor to join the other couples and for Jackson to dance with Tiffany, and when they return, they’re both breathless and laughing. It eases some of my worries about their relationship when Jackson jokes about not having done it in a long time, and Cassandra just smiles and suggests that they take dancing lessons on their own at some point. He gives her a warm smile, whispering something back to her, and I think that even if there are problems, maybe tonight will help heal them.
The whole room is full of love and happiness, and I can’t help but think of how it will feel when it’s my turn to do this with Madison and have a night like this of our own. How amazing it will be to finally be able to call the woman I love so much, my wife.
Holly stands up at the bridal party table, tapping her fork against a glass. “Everyone, everyone?” she calls out. “I have something to show you all tonight, something that will really make the night memorable. Are you all ready?”
There’s a general buzz of agreement through the room, but I have to stifle a small groan and not roll my eyes. It’s probably some montage of photos or videos. Even though I’m enjoying myself, I can’t wait until this is all over because once it is, there’s no reason for either of us to ever see or talk to her again.
A fresh start, Jackson had called weddings. It’ll be a brand new start without Holly in my life.
The video starts off exactly as I expected. Sweet photos of Tiffany and Philip together, grainy cell phone video clips of them laughing and kissing, Tiffany making cookies while Philip takes a video of her, Christmas card photos, pictures of them adopting their first kitten.
I need more pictures of Madison and me together. More pictures of her like this for our wedding. Candid ones. I make a mental note to catch her doing cute things around the apartment that I can get photo evidence of. I squeeze Madison’s hand a little tighter, my heart full of love for her. She lets out a small sigh, her head tucked in the crook of my neck, and I consider whether or not we could just go back up to the room when the cake cutting is over.
The screen goes black abruptly without an end, or an official ending, and a small hum of disappointment goes through the room. People look around, trying to decide if they should clap or not. I expect Holly to scramble to fix whatever went wrong. Holly is meticulous and would never end her best friend’s wedding video with a cut to black. There has to be something wrong, but instead of her hurrying to fix it, she saunters over as if she has all the time in the world, and I can see there’s a smirk on her face. It must be some sort of surprise ending she’s waiting on. Holly has friends in several industries, and with her journalism work, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had someone in her editing department come up with something special.
The screen comes back to life, but this time it’s slightly grainy video footage from a security camera in an elevator. What the hell is this? There are two people in the elevator, a man and a woman, and the woman is pressed up against the wall, her legs wrapped around the man’s waist as he supports her, her dress up around her waist, his pants open. As Holly turns the volume up, their gasps and moans echo through the reception hall.
What the actual fuck? I stare at Holly, who isn’t budging. What the hell is going on? I feel Madison stiffen next to me, sitting up with a small cry as the video keeps playing. I can’t figure out why the hell Holly is playing someone’s sex tape at her best friend’s—and my sister’s—wedding reception. Is she outing Philip cheating on Tiffany or some shit? It makes no fucking sense.
Tiffany looks horrified, and she turns towards Holly, whispering something urgently. Holly just shakes her head, and we hear her say clearly: “Just wait.” I’m about to stand up and go and turn this shit off.
“Holly, you were supposed to be giving a speech! What the hell is this?”
And then the woman in the video moans: “Oh god, Jackson.”
I’m frozen. I can’t move. I can’t think. I feel for a moment as if I’m going to throw up because I know that voice. I know that moan. It sounds just like the one I heard this morning in the shower riding me to one of the best orgasms of my life while I whispered how much I love her in her ear.
This can’t be happening. It’s not true. It can’t be.
And then the man turns his face towards the camera, and it’s clearly my dad’s face. My father’s face. I can’t see the woman, but I don’t need to. I know exactly who it is.
It’s Madison. My fiancée. And she’s fucking my dad.
The tape is still playing, the moans getting louder and louder. I’m going to be sick. I turn abruptly in my seat to see Jackson staring at the screen, his face white as a fucking ghost. If there were any doubt in my mind as to whether or not it’s true, they’re dashed in this moment, because it’s apparent from his face that it’s him.
My fiancée is fucking my dad. On tape. In front of my entire family.
Holly’s words come crashing back to me—“Could you forgive her?”
That fucking bitch! She planned this. That’s why she found me last night.
But right now I don’t know who I hate more, her or Madison, because I’ve known for a long time that Holly’s a lying bitch.
But two seconds ago I was planning the best day of my life with Madison in my head.
And now she’s screaming out my father’s name as she comes on his dick.
I’m going to throw up.
I see Cassandra stand up, her face turning from shock to horror and then to icy fury as she slaps Jackson across the face, the sound echoing through the room.
“Turn it off!” Tiffany yells, standing up. “Holly, turn it off!” I hear her yelling, but I don’t see what happens because I’m still looking at my father, reeling from the slap, and Cassandra storming out of the reception hall. He leaps up from the table, glancing at me with frightened eyes before dashing out after his wife, looking like a man going to his execution.
I shove back my chair. My entire body is stiff; I’m so angry as I get up.
“Alex!” I hear Madison say. “Alex, please, wait!”
I don’t listen. I don’t care. I have to get out of here before I lose my mind, before I have to hear that video for one second longer.
I know I’m never going to be able to unsee or un-hear it. In one second, my entire world is destroyed.
Everything I wanted, everything I had, everything I believed in.
Completely, entirely crushed.
Chapter 2
Present day
Madison
A living nightmare is only how I can describe where I am now. My heart is pounding, tears are in my eyes, and I’m stuck, unabl
e to move. The room has gone quiet, the kind of quiet where you know something terrible happened even if you weren’t there to see it. Nothing is right; everything is not only wrong, it’s unnatural.
I don’t know what to do. My limbs are stuck. I wipe my tears and see eyes on me. I’m not sure if this is real or what I’ve imagined. Do they know it’s me? If they didn’t, Alex getting the hell out of dodge probably alerted them. No, they wouldn’t be able to put it all together. He went to see about Cassandra after everyone here, including the little flower girls, saw her husband fucking someone else on the screen. That someone else being me.
It takes everything within me to bring my hands to my eyes and wipe the tears, clouding them away. When they’re gone, I look over to see Jackson, Tiffany, and Phillip have all left, the bridal party all dispersed, and only shocked and curious guests remain.
I get up from my seat and rush out of the banquet hall, not sure what my next move is. I’m terrified, embarrassed, and confused. I don’t know how this happened. How the fuck did this happen!
I try to catch my breath as I make it to the hall of the hotel. A few guests are milling about, most likely unaware of the bomb that just exploded in our reception hall, but no one who’s a casualty is anywhere in sight. I make my way to the bathroom and am relieved to see it’s empty. I rush to a stall and throw up the little amount of food that I ate today. After my stomach is empty, I try to get a hold of the tears pouring from my eyes. I try to catch my breath so I don’t start hyperventilating. I’m at a loss, a complete and utter loss, having no fucking idea how to fix this or where to go from here. I have to find Alex. I have to talk to him. But what the hell am I going to say?
He knows.
Everyone knows.
I should have told him the truth. God, I should have just told him the truth. It would have hurt him, he would have been angry, but it would have been better than how he just found out. A video, a fucking video.
I should have left. I should have at least pretended to be sick and not come to the wedding. This is my fault! Holly told me she was going to tell him, and I should have known that vindictive bitch was going to do just that, but I never in a million years would have thought that she would obliterate her friendship to destroy my life. How could she do that to Tiffany? To Alex? She can’t still love him. This has to be about revenge because how can you love someone and hurt them like she just did?
I slam my hands against the door and am unable to fight my sobs. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d be tracking her down to kick her ass. Hot rage and embarrassment is the only thing that’s keeping me upright because I feel so weak. Everything has gone so wrong. I fucked up. I fucked up so badly. I have to fix this, though. I have to. I have no idea how, but I can’t run from this. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I have to make Alex understand. My heart trembles, thinking of how he changed in the blink of an eye. How before the video played my hand was in his, him stroking it gently, how his love for me was palpable, just mine, and in the span of a minute, I felt it slip away. I didn’t see his face. I was too much of a coward to look at him after I realized what was happening, which took a while because who expects to see a private indiscretion played out in public for everyone to see? Not only that but for it to happen at your boyfriend's wedding when you’re on the tape with his father. It’s unexplainable!
“Are you okay?” I hear a small feminine voice on the other side of the stall door, and I’m afraid to answer. I quickly swallow my sobs and try to pull myself together. I don’t recognize the voice; the last thing I want is a stranger to see me like this.
“I-I’m fine. Thank you.” I manage to squeak out. The voice doesn’t say anything, but I don’t hear footsteps moving from the stall door.
“Are you sure?” she asks again. I try to stop the whimper coming from my throat, but it’s next to impossible, and soon I’m crying loud, ugly tears again.
“Honey, open the door, okay?” the voice says. I just want to tell her to leave me alone, that my world has been destroyed and I just need a few minutes to try to…try to what? I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell to do.
“Please,” the voice asks again, and it’s probably because I’m weak and exhausted that I do. The woman standing there, I recall seeing at the wedding, but I don’t know who she is. She’s about my mother's age with dark red hair swept in an impeccable bun, and wearing a cream-colored dress. That’s as much detail as I can manage to see in my blurred vision before she pulls me from the stall and into her arms. I’m unable to push her away or tell her I’m fine, and I continue to cry as she strokes my back.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. I hear her say it’s okay as she continues to comfort me, and soon she’s taking tissues and dabbing my eyes. I’m beyond embarrassed and confused at who she is and why she’s here. I remember when I was younger, when my mom was happy before my dad left, and we’d go to church, she’d tell me about angels. I almost think that’s the only thing that would explain this.
“I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Rose, Mr. Scully’s assistant.”
I wipe my eyes again and get a good look at her. Of course she is. I’ve seen her more than a few times. She looks different for some reason here, or maybe my mental processes aren’t working entirely correctly.
“Of course you are. I-I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You look so pretty,” I say, trying to smile away my embarrassment.
“Thank you. I hope I’m not overstepping…Mr. Scully wanted me to come and check on you,” she says with a soft, sad smile. My stomach flips as I think of Jackson, of everything that just happened, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I look at her face more closely, vaguely recognizing her. If Jackson told her to come and look for me, there had to be some form of intimacy. She’s different from both Cassandra and me—dark curly red hair, about an inch taller than me, and curvier, but with big beautiful green eyes. Does she know, does she get it, that it was me in the video? That I’m a liar, a homewrecker, a selfish bitch? The noise in my head is too loud at first for me to even think of what to say. And then I blurt out the only thing I can manage: “Is Jackson still here? At the resort, I mean?”
Rose shakes her head. “No, honey, he went after Ms. Scully. I don’t know when he’ll be back. All he said was for me to check in on you.”
I want to ask her if she knows about Jackson and me, if she recognized my voice in the video, if she knows it was me—but I don’t. After all, she’s the only friend in the world I have here right now, and if she doesn’t know, then I’m probably fucked if I tell her. Who would want to stick around after finding out that I hid that kind of secret from my fiancé? From my future mother-in-law? From the entire fucking family? What will she think? She probably doesn’t know it was before Alex, before I knew he was married.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Rose says comfortingly. She walks to the sink and runs a handful of paper towels under some hot water, coming back over and dabbing them on my cheeks, where my mascara and eyeliner had run all over my face. “Jackson told me to take you wherever you want to go.”
“I should go back to the hotel,” I say dully. I take the napkins from her and walk to the mirror, trying to clean off my face as best as I can. I can’t go outside looking like this. My lipstick is smeared too. I swish my mouth out with water, trying to get the horrible taste out of it.
How has my life collapsed so completely, so quickly?
Rose gently steers me out into the hall. I half expect Holly or Tiffany or someone to leap out and start yelling at me, gloating or accusing me of ruining everything, but the reception hall is mostly empty. The music has stopped; the only sounds are the bar staff and waiters clearing up, now that the party has come to a screeching halt.
A new wave of guilt washes over me. Tiffany’s wedding day is ruined, and it’s all my fault. I can’t even blame Holly. It was a shitty fucking thing to do, and she’s a horrible bitch, but it was my mistake in the first place for keeping the secret
at all, mine and Jackson’s.
Tears well up in my eyes again. Even if Alex forgave me, my relationship with his family is ruined forever. Nothing can make up for this.
It feels hopeless.
I’m numb as I sit in the passenger’s side of the car that Rose drives us back to the hotel in. Part of me hopes that Alex will be there, and part of me is too ashamed and terrified to face him. There’s a fragile bit of hope that maybe it’s not over, that maybe he just needs to cool off, and the rational part of me knows that once I see him, that thread is going to be snapped forever. There’s no coming back from this. But seeing him will make it a reality.
My heart is pounding so hard when I walk into the hotel room that I can hardly breathe. But when I step inside, it’s empty. No Alex. No one. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed, or maybe a little of both. I’m afraid of his reaction, afraid to talk to him.
Afraid of the moment when I lose the love of my life, and the future that I never even got to tell him about.
I shove my clothes and things into my bag, not even bothering to change out of my dress. I can’t think about that right now. I want to go home—and then I remember that I might not have a home anymore. Where will I even go?
Numbly, I walk to the room’s safe to get my ring. I just want to see it, the last tangible evidence that Alex loved me. But when I open the door, it’s gone. The safe is empty, and I know Alex must have taken it.
I lower onto the bed, covering my face with my hands as I start sobbing all over again. It’s over. It’s really over. Alex is done with me, done with our baby that he doesn’t even know about.
My whole life, crashing and burning in the space of an hour.
“Honey,” Rose says quietly, sitting down next to me. She rubs my back in small circles, comforting me the way I imagine my mother probably would if she were here. I want my mother, her reassurance that I’ll be okay, even though it doesn’t feel that way at all. Maybe that’s where I’ll go, back to Chicago. Back home. But it feels like accepting that Alex and I are done if I do that. Putting enough space between us that I’ll never get him back.
