“You look so nervous!” he called, and Holli snorted behind me.
“Yeah, you kind of look like you’re on the way to the gallows.” She laughed.
Since we weren’t in a church, I felt comfortable giving Neil the finger. “I’m trying not to fall down!”
“Maybe you should have picked flats,” Mom suggested, her brash voice echoing in the huge space.
“Since the wedding is tomorrow, that’s kind of unhelpful.” Whatever. I could totally walk in these. “But maybe we need to remember to bring flats for the reception.”
I had four different outfits for the reception. Which may have seemed like overkill to my mom and Neil and basically everyone, but it was necessary. Dare I say, practical. I had my wedding gown for the ceremony, a similar gown sans train and giant skirt for dinner and dancing, a cocktail dress for when the real dancing kicked off, and then something pretty, but comfortable enough to travel in for when we raced off to our honeymoon.
“Nonsense.” Neil laughed. “You look beautiful.”
“Wait until you see me tomorrow,” I promised him with a saucy flip of my hair.
Once I made it down the aisle, the minister ran us through his part of the ceremony. It was pretty basic; he would say some stuff, we would recite the vows we’d written to each other, we’d do the “I do”, and then, we’d be pronounced.
“It doesn’t seem like this is going to be a terribly long affair,” Neil said, casting his eyes around the room. “Perhaps we overdid it on the decor.”
“It’s your wedding. It could be seven seconds long, and it wouldn’t be overkill,” Shelby said. Though, since it was her salary we were talking about, she may have had an interest in keeping us grandiose.
“And we need it to look good for the society pages,” I reminded him. “I own a fashion magazine, for god’s sake. I can’t have a drab wedding, or it’ll be bad for business.”
“Which is exactly why you need four dresses,” Holli added in my defense.
I nodded. “Right. See, Holli gets it.”
“Well, I’m just glad the two of you won’t be living in sin anymore,” my grandma piped up from her seat beside my mother. “Even though you’re being married by a Protestant heretic—no offense, reverend—the lord has to let you in to heaven if the marriage is legal.”
Neil’s eyebrows shot up.
“It’s a thing,” I assured him. Then, to the minister, I mouthed, “Sorry.”
He didn’t look as understanding.
Unlike Emma’s rehearsal, ours went off without a hitch—unless my grandmother practically building a bonfire to burn our non-denominational officiant at the stake counted as a hitch. I decided it was my lack of bridesmaids. I’d picked Holli, and only Holli, because I hadn’t wanted to make Emma get fitted for a dress while she’d been pregnant, and I hadn’t had that many friends besides Holli to begin with. Holli was my very best friend; if anyone were going to make the cut, it would have been her.
We ran through the ceremony twice, and I started to feel strangely calm about it. I could totally do this. I could get married.
“I think we crushed it, baby!” I squealed once Neil and I were in our car. I grabbed my mirror from my purse and touched up my lipstick.
He put his hand on my knee and rolled the fabric of my Michael Kors wrap dress between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, undoubtedly. No one stormed off screaming, no one showed up drunk. If the wedding goes half as well tomorrow, we’ll be in the clear.”
“You sound like we’re planning a bank heist.” I slumped against him and sighed contentedly. “Do I still look okay for the dinner? Not too deflated?”
“You look as beautiful as you did in that airport the day I met you.” He buried his nose in my hair. “And you smell much better.”
“Hey. I’d just been on a cross-country flight.” I sat up and gave him a little push. “Besides, never tell a woman she looks as beautiful as when she was in an airport.”
Our rehearsal dinner was held at One If By Land, Two If By Sea, one of my favorite restaurants in the city. We had the main dining room reserved to fit all of our out-of-town family and friends who’d flown in. Everyone was already assembled when we got there, and their cheers when we walked in sent a lot of mortified blood rushing straight to my head.
“It’s good practice for tomorrow, darling,” Neil teased, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles.
The restaurant was beautiful, with glittering silver chandeliers and soft candlelight against the otherwise dark wood and brick of the room. The tall oil paintings of historical people on the walls made me think of the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World, but obviously with no alligators waiting at the bottom to gobble up Paul Revere.
We did a few quick hellos on our way to our seats, but we were both starving—I’d heard Neil’s stomach rumbling hollowly in the car, and it was a miracle I’d heard it over mine—so we got to the table like we were running to put out a fire.
The moment Neil saw Emma and Michael sans baby, his joyous expression crumbled. “Where’s Olivia?”
“She’s with the au pair,” Emma said, relief dripping from every word. “And I have pumped enough milk that I can finally have a drink.” Her eyes went wide as she realized what she’d said, and she quickly amended, “Sorry, Daddy.”
He got a strange expression, but in that split second it appeared, he decided to roll with it. “No, enjoy yourself. You’re not going to trouble me.”
I wondered what was going on in his head. I knew Emma had brought up his alcoholism in their phone call. Maybe this was the first time she’d talked about it since?
Neil sat beside Emma at the round table, and I sat between him and Mom. Rudy was seated with us, too; I lost Holli and Deja to a neighboring table, due to seating space.
Mom reached over and patted my hand. “The wedding is going to be beautiful, honey.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d been so negative about my relationship with Neil for so long, and the recent resurgence of her disdain had set me back in the being-comfortable-around-Mom department. I didn’t know how to respond.
The dinner was delicious. Neil ordered oysters as a starter, and I was so famished I gulped down most of them.
“Hey, hey!” He laughed, smacking my hand as I reached for the last one. I scrambled for it, and he fought back, until we were both laughing.
“Children,” Rudy drawled in mock scolding.
“What?” Neil took a drink of water and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. He was still chuckling when he spoke again. “I ordered them, they’re mine. She doesn’t get half of them until the paperwork is signed tomorrow.”
“Daddy, you’re awful,” Emma said with an amused twist to her mouth.
“That’s why I’m marrying him.” I reached over to pinch Neil’s cheek, and he ducked out of the way to evade my hand. I tousled his hair instead. “Because he’s so fucking awful.”
“Language.” Mom held her hands out of the way as the waiter placed a plate of roasted striped sea bass in front of her.
I had to make an effort to not gorge myself on squab. The last thing I wanted was to walk down the aisle pregnant with a four-pound food baby. Neil must not have had the same worries about his tux, because he tucked into his beef wellington like they would give it to him for free if he finished it in an hour or less.
“I need to be fortified for the bachelor party,” he explained, defensive and joking all at once.
As the course began to wind down, Michael stood and tapped his knife against his wine glass. “Excuse me, everyone.” When the room politely hushed, he continued, “My wife, Emma, Neil’s daughter, wanted to make a toast to the happy couple tonight. Her severe allergy to public speaking, however, prevents this, so I’m going to read her toast for her.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Daddy and Sophie,” he began then ad-libbed, “Again, Emma wrote this.” A chuckle went around the room. “Two years ago, if I’d had a glimp
se of the future, of sitting here on the eve of your wedding, I wouldn’t have believed it. After our inauspicious meeting—”
Emma gave us a pointed look, one perfect eyebrow sliding up in a silent expression of, “Yeah. You just heard that.” Neil blushed and used a reach for his water glass to avert his gaze from Emma’s.
Michael went on, “—and the undeniably weird coincidence of our ages, I didn’t have terribly high hopes for you, Sophie. Even though you were all he could talk about, even though he was the happiest I’d ever seen him, I didn’t think it would work out.” Then, Michael paused. “After all, what were you getting out of the deal? I’m not sure any amount of money would be worth listening to my father’s tone deaf car singing.”
Another ripple of laughter followed that, and Neil covered my hand with his on the tabletop.
“I know neither of you like to talk about the time during Dad’s illness, so you’ll have to forgive me for bringing it up now. Sophie, the first time I knew you really, truly loved my father was during a visit to the hospital. I think, for this entire family, that summer was our darkest time. But you were like sunshine in his life. I’m so grateful that you were there with him, and I’m so glad that you’re here now.”
I knew I wasn’t the only person in the room tearing up. Emma’s eyes glistened, too. When I looked at Rudy, I could tell he was trying to keep it together. My vision watered as I turned to Neil, and he squeezed my hand.
A change in Michael’s tone gave me a chance to get under control. “Now, the first time I knew Dad loved you was the first Christmas we all spent together. Before you came down for Boxing Day brunch, I asked Dad if he would be watching Man U play. And he said, ‘No, I think I’d like to have a quiet day with Sophie.’”
“Did you check him for a fever?” Rudy interrupted, and Emma laughed. The Brits in the room understood; Runólf’s loud bark rang out above everyone else’s.
“You’re the first woman who’d ever tempted him away from football,” Michael said, raising his voice to get the room under control again. “So, to my father and Sophie, I say, you were made for each other. You have nothing in common, god knows how you stand each other because you’re both terribly annoying, but I couldn’t think of a better match for either of you.” He lifted his glass. “To the bride and groom.”
Emma, eyes shining, lifted her glass and repeated along with the rest of the party.
Rudy, being the best man, didn’t give a speech; he would save his humiliation for the wedding. I thought we were safe from another struggle not to cry, until my mom stood up.
Oh shit. She was the only one from my family who would logically make a toast on their behalf. I didn’t think my mom would embarrass me—not intentionally, anyway—but I was so uncomfortable at the thought she might joke about her disapproval of our marriage.
“The day that Sophie was born, I already knew she would be a handful,” Mom began, looking down at me fondly. “They wheeled one of those clear plastic bassinets in, so she could stay in my hospital room with me. And, in the middle of the night, I woke up, and there was this red-faced, wrinkly little creature, staring at me. I’m not going to lie; she seemed kind of judgmental.”
Neil laughed, and I realized that he hadn’t heard as many stories of my childhood as I’d heard of his. I wondered if that was due to Mom’s discomfort with our age gap. It would be strange, I supposed, to talk to your daughter’s future husband about when your kid was born, knowing it was around the exact same time that his kid had been born.
“She’s always been a rebel. She’s always kept us on our toes. But, when she brought Neil home…” Mom exaggerated a wide-eyed grimace, and everyone chuckled. “I was expecting a twenty-five year old. I could have killed her. Or him. Both of them.
“It took me a while to come around. But I’ve been staying with them recently—” She paused and rolled her eyes as if in thought to correct herself. “No, they’ve been tolerating me staying with them. It’s made me realize that my daughter…” She pressed a hand to her chest, lips clamped together to hold back tears. Then, she completely dropped the act and said, “Is a real pain the ass.”
My family roared with laughter. Neil’s just looked a bit uncomfortable and bewildered. I’d seen Neil and his brothers joke with each other like this before. All the Elwoods had a sense of humor, so far as I could tell, so I assumed they felt the occasion required a bit more gravitas than was being displayed.
“Sophie, you found someone who can tolerate your bullshit. Someone who is willing to grow old with you—or, ahead of you. Someone who knows exactly how surly you can be in the morning, but how sweet you can be to the people you love.” The sudden turn from teasing to loving made my eyes water. I knew my mom loved me; I just liked hearing it.
“Neil, you’re the luckiest man alive to have my Sophie,” Mom said, somehow turning it into a warning.
Neil smiled a slow smile. “I know, Ms. Scaife.”
“Good.” She uncurled her index finger from around her champagne glass to point at him. “But Sophie is pretty lucky, too, to have someone who loves her as much as you obviously do. You make my daughter happy. Your family has welcomed her with kindness. So, on behalf of the Scaifes, I welcome the Elwoods into our hearts and our lives.” This time, her tears were real. She raised her glass. “To Neil and Sophie.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent toast, and she’d managed to work a few cuss words in, but when she sat down, Neil told her, “Thank you, Rebecca. That was beautiful.” And he really meant it.
We chatted over dessert and talked and laughed, and as the night went on, everyone seemed to relax and get a lot more comfortable with each other. I saw Geir introducing himself to my uncle Mike. Rudy had a real, non-snarky conversation with my mom.
“Oh, Emma, I should have talked to you about this ages ago,” Neil broke into our discussion apologetically. “I put you and Michael at your mother’s table, instead of with Fiona and Runólf. I hope you’re not bothered.”
“Not bothered, no.” Emma frowned. “But I thought Mum wasn’t coming to the wedding.”
“She’s not?” Neil seemed a bit hurt. Which is a great emotion to see on your fiancé’s face when he finds out his ex won’t be at the ceremony the night before your wedding.
“I spoke with her the other day. She said she had other plans, and she was sorry she couldn’t make it after all.” I hoped that waving it off would be enough to end the conversation. Emma and I made eye contact across the table. She knew. She totally knew why her mom wasn’t coming. I looked away guiltily, but I don’t know why. I wasn’t stealing Neil from Valerie, and I hadn’t uninvited her or anything.
Suddenly, my dinner wasn’t agreeing with me anymore. My jaw clenched, like I was going to be sick. Why were we talking about Valerie, on the night before our wedding? Just when I’d started to feel like everything was going right?
I dropped my napkin on my plate. “Excuse me, I need to get some air.”
“Are you okay?” my mom asked, reaching out to pat my arm.
I shrugged her off. “Yeah, just…too much wine.”
I walked as quickly as I could from the dining room then out onto the street.
“Sophie!”
I stopped at Neil’s call.
He hurried to me, concern deepening the lines on his face. “Are you all right?”
“No!” I couldn’t figure out if I was mad or just sad. “Why does it matter to you if Valerie isn’t at the wedding?”
I’m sure it took a herculean effort to not roll his eyes. We’d both been down the Valerie fight road enough times that we were tired of the commute. “It doesn’t matter to me. I was just confused, because she was on the final guest list.”
“I didn’t tell her not to come, okay?” I shouted. Yeah, defensiveness would convince him. Good job, self.
“I never suggested that you did. I wouldn’t think that would occur to you.” He pushed back his jacket and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “Besides, if
you didn’t want her to come, I assumed you would have told me when we were assembling the guest list.”
“Yeah, well…” I couldn’t think of anything else to say about it. But I blurted, “She’s still in love with you!” anyway, like it was an accusation of misconduct on his part.
He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “There isn’t anything I can do about that.”
“Is there anything you want to do about it?” What the fuck? Why was I flying off the handle like this? Especially on the street, in front of a restaurant where our families and friends were gathered and could pop out and check on us at any time? When I’d been feeling confident and sure of myself only moments before?
“Of course there is. I want to avoid the whole subject and get married to the woman whom I love.” His expression of angry confusion struck me to my heart. “What is this all about?”
“I don’t know!” I shouted and looked guiltily away from the couple who gave us strange looks as they passed. I lowered my voice. “I don’t know. I’m just… I’m scared.”
“You’re scared?” He pressed his hand against his forehead. “Thank god. I was worried you were picking a stupid fight with me to get out of the wedding.”
“Maybe I am.” What the fuck was I saying?
“What? Why wouldn’t you want to get married?”
My irrational thought process was only fueled further by the patient sympathy in his tone. I threw up my hands. “Because…if you get married, then you get divorced.”
“Sophie, we are not going to get divorced,” he said. His adorable half-smile told me I was being ridiculous, and deep down, I knew that if I just let myself be rational, for just a moment, I would realize that this was just a bad case of nerves.
Being rational wasn’t something my wildly out-of-control emotions would permit.
“You and Elizabeth got divorced, Emir is getting divorced, Ian and Gena are getting divorced.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “If one in three marriages end in divorce, that’s three. We’re doomed.”
The Ex Page 26
