Part 8
“No.”
Maribel left.
Vivian crossed the room and put an arm around Claire. Claire stood rigid at first, then leaned toward her mother.
Daniel felt the pull to comfort her.
He knew the shape of Claire’s shoulders when she cried. He knew she hated being watched. He knew she would hold herself together until she reached a locked room and then become furious at anyone who asked whether she was all right.
Love did not disappear simply because trust did.
That was the cruelty of the moment.
Claire’s father walked toward Daniel.
“You have every right to protect your daughter,” he said quietly. “You also brought my daughter into a life you had not made room for.”
Daniel met his eyes.
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
The older man turned away.
Ethan approached Daniel after the others left.
“I should have told you about the plans,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I thought you knew.”
“You could have asked.”
“You could have noticed.”
Daniel looked at him.
Ethan’s expression held no satisfaction.
“Everyone around you has learned to assume you’re busy,” he said. “It makes cowardice feel polite.”
Daniel did not answer.
His brother left.
Claire remained by the window after her parents had gone to arrange a car. She had removed her engagement ring and held it in her palm.
Daniel stood near the library table.
The room smelled faintly of roses and whiskey. Someone had opened the decanter during the morning preparations, though no one admitted it.
Claire looked at the ring.
“I chose the setting,” she said.
“I remember.”
“You hated it.”
“I thought the stone sat too high.”
“You said it would catch on everything.”
“It did.”
She almost smiled.
The expression disappeared.
“I was happy,” she said.
Daniel looked at her.
“Not all the time. But I was.”
“So was I.”
“Was Sophie?”
The question was soft.
“I thought she was.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Daniel lowered his eyes.
“No.”
Claire closed her fingers around the ring.
“I told myself she would thank me later,” she said. “For teaching her independence. For not letting grief become her personality.”
“She is a child whose mother died.”
“I know.”
“You resented the fact that she still acted like it.”
“Yes.”
Daniel let the answer stand.
Claire walked toward him.
She did not offer the ring immediately.
“If I had not thrown away the drawing,” she said, “would you have married me?”
Daniel considered lying.
“Yes.”
Claire flinched.
“You would have married me without knowing any of this.”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that make you afraid of yourself?”
“Yes.”
They stood close enough for him to see the natural texture beneath her makeup, the faint lines near her eyes, the small place where foundation had gathered beside her nose. She looked less like a bride now and more like a tired woman wearing an expensive costume.
She placed the ring in his hand.
“Do not make me the only villain,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“You will when people ask.”
“I’ll say I canceled.”
“They’ll assume I cheated.”
“I won’t discuss details.”
“That won’t protect me. Silence becomes whatever story people want.”
Daniel closed his hand around the ring.
“What do you want me to say?”
Claire looked toward the hall.
“That we discovered problems in the family we could not ignore.”
“That includes Sophie.”
“It includes you.”
He nodded.
“I can say that.”
Claire’s eyes met his again.
“Do not tell her I never loved her.”
“I won’t.”
“Because I did.”
Daniel felt anger rise, then uncertainty.
“Did you?”
Claire swallowed.
“I loved her when loving her felt like she might love me back.”
The admission hurt both of them.
“That is not enough,” Daniel said.
“I know.”
She walked out of the library.
The announcement took less than a minute.
Maribel stood near the ballroom entrance and told the guests that the ceremony would not take place due to a private family decision. Lunch would be served. Transportation could be arranged for anyone who wished to leave.
For three seconds, no one moved.
Then the room filled with sound.
Whispers. Chairs shifting. Glasses lifted. Questions aimed at people who had no answers. Several guests reached for their phones. Maribel’s staff moved quickly through the crowd, asking them to respect the family’s privacy.
Daniel remained upstairs.
He did not want to become an object of sympathy or curiosity. He did not want anyone praising his courage before he had faced his daughter.
When he returned to Sophie’s room, she sat at the small desk in yellow pajamas. Nora had changed out of her uniform and into dark trousers and a gray sweater. The blue party dress lay folded across the bed.
Sophie was drawing another picture.
She looked up.
“Did you get married?”
“No.”
Her crayon stopped.
“Not today?”
“Not ever.”
Nora’s eyes moved to him.
Sophie looked back at the paper.
“Is Claire mad?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“She will be.”
“She is upset with me.”
“Because you picked me.”
Daniel sat beside her.
“I chose not to marry someone I do not trust to care for you.”
“That means me.”
“It means Claire and I made decisions that hurt this family. You told the truth. That did not cause the problem.”
Sophie drew a black line across the bottom of the page.
“If I didn’t cry, you wouldn’t know.”
“That’s true.”
“So crying stopped the wedding.”
Daniel looked at Nora.
She remained silent, letting him answer.
“Crying showed me something I should have seen sooner.”
Sophie frowned.
“That sounds the same.”
“It isn’t, but I understand why it feels that way.”
She pressed the crayon harder.
“Will everyone hate me?”
“No.”
“You don’t know.”
The bluntness startled him.
“No,” he said. “I don’t know what everyone will think. I know what I will tell them.”
“What?”
“That I canceled the wedding because I was not ready to be a good husband or a good father at the same time.”
May you like
Nora looked at him.
Sophie considered the sentence.
