Chapter 3
The coordinator didn't ask if we wanted to leave. She just put a hand lightly on my elbow and another on Mark's back and started steering us out from under the pergola. Behind us the guests were still frozen in that awful half-circle, napkins in laps, phones face-down like they'd all agreed at once not to record this part.
My dad stayed where he was. Ray didn't follow. He stood at the edge of the stone pavement with his maroon tie perfectly straight, his boutonniere still pinned, watching us walk away like we were the ones making a scene.
I couldn't look at him. I looked at the aisle instead. We'd scattered white petals down it an hour earlier and nobody had stepped on them until now. My veil caught on a loose piece of greenery hanging from the pergola and Mark reached over without breaking stride and freed it. His hand was steady. Mine wasn't.
"Lauren, this way," the coordinator whispered. Her name tag said Diane. "Let's get you inside for a minute. Take a breath."
Mark's arm stayed extended, not touching my dad, but still between me and him until we were past the last row of chairs. The white rose on his lapel had been crushed a little where his jacket had pulled. I stared at it because I didn't want to stare at anything else.
The dressing suite was at the far end of the venue, past the stone archway and down a short hallway that smelled like hairspray and fresh lilies. Diane unlocked the door with a key card and pushed it open for us.
"Take all the time you need," she said. "I'll keep everyone on the patio with champagne. No one comes down this hall without you saying so. Your dad is still outside with the manager. He's not coming back here."
The door clicked shut. The room was cool and quiet after the courtyard. My dress hung heavy around me. Someone had left a tray with two glasses of water and a small plate of fruit that no one had touched. My bouquet was on the vanity where I'd left it that morning, and seeing it there — before everything — made my throat close up.
Mark locked the door. He didn't do it dramatically. He just turned the little latch and then tested it once.
For a second we just stood there breathing. My ears were ringing from how loud everyone had been under that floral canopy.
"You okay?" he said. His voice was low and hoarse. He'd been shouting. I could still hear it.
I shook my head. I sat down on the edge of the upholstered bench in front of the mirror. My veil slipped forward. "He did that on purpose. At the pergola. In front of everyone."
"I know," Mark said. He knelt so we were eye level. He didn't touch the envelope right away. It was tucked inside his inner jacket pocket. I could see the corner of it.
"He told you to give it to Jessica," I said. It wasn't a question.
Mark nodded. "On the phone last night he called me. That's who I was talking to when you asked who I called. It was him. He said if I loved you I'd make sure Jessica got the check. Said she needed it more than a house."
The words landed exactly how they'd sounded outside. Give your sister the check. She needs it more.
I pressed my hands over my face. The lace of my sleeve scratched my cheek. "Jessica didn't tell me any of this. She just kept saying Dad was helping her with rent."
"Lauren, there's something else you need to know before anyone else says anything out there," he said. He pulled the envelope out carefully, like it might tear. It was a plain white business envelope, not fancy, with our names written on it in blue ink in his mom's handwriting. Mark's mother had died two years ago in March. She'd written this check months before she got sick.
He opened the flap and turned it so I could see. "It's twenty-five thousand dollars. From Mom. She set it aside for us before she passed. For a down payment. She made me promise it would go toward our house. Not bills, not family debts. Our house. That's what the memo line says."
I stared at the amount. $25,000.00. The check was dated two weeks ago, from the estate account. In the memo she'd written House fund — L + M with a little heart after it. My eyes filled before I could stop it.
"That's why I said you just made this easier," he said quietly. "Not to him. To you. He made it easier to say no. I wasn't going to hand over my mom's last gift to cover whatever Jessica owes him. Not without you deciding with me."
I touched the edge of the paper. It felt wrong that something so important was just a piece of paper that could be shouted over in a courtyard.
I thought about Jessica in her bridesmaid dress, laughing with my cousins at the rehearsal dinner, not meeting my eyes this morning. About my dad pointing that finger under the flowers like he owned the whole day.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my wrist and made myself say it out loud.
"We're not giving it to her," I said. My voice shook but it was my voice. "Not until I hear the truth from her mouth. Not because he demanded it. If she really needs help, we'll help her the right way. Together. But this check stays with us."
Mark exhaled like he'd been holding air since the pergola. "Thank you," he said. "I didn't want to decide that without you."
He didn't kiss me like it was a movie. He just pressed his forehead to mine for a second. His boutonniere brushed my collarbone. That little white rose had stayed on through all of it.
"Where do we put it?" I asked.
He looked around the suite. The venue had a small safe in the closet for wedding gifts and vendor tips. He tried the code Diane had given us that morning — 1-2-3-4 — and it clicked open. Empty except for a spare key.
Mark slipped the envelope inside and locked it. He put the key in his pants pocket and zipped it shut.
"Stays locked until we decide together," he said.
I stood up and smoothed my gown. My hands were still cold. "Jessica's still out there. Probably by the parking lot by now. If she's involved, she knows we're coming."
Mark held out his hand. "You want to talk to her now? Before he tries to get to her first?"
May you like
I took his hand. My bouquet was still on the vanity, but I left it there. I didn't need to hold anything.
"Now," I said. "Let's go find my sister before my dad does."
