Chương 6
“You think Anna has been judging you?”
“I think your entire family has.”
“For what?”
“For not grieving correctly. For wanting a wedding instead of a memorial. For wanting one day where the most important woman in your life was alive and standing beside you.”
Daniel leaned against the windowsill.
“My mother has been dead for two years.”
“And she still has a place in our relationship that I’m not allowed to question.”
“What place?”
“The place where every disagreement ends.”
He frowned.
Serena stood. “You say, ‘After what happened to Mom, I can’t do that.’ You say, ‘Anna had a hard year after Mom.’ You say, ‘This matters because Mom wanted it.’ There is no argument after that. I either agree or become cruel.”
Daniel looked down.
The truth in her words did not soften what she had done. It made the room more difficult.
He remembered postponing their move because Anna was struggling to sell the family house. He remembered refusing a Christmas trip because it was the first anniversary of his mother’s death. He remembered Serena suggesting a small destination wedding and Daniel saying his mother had dreamed of seeing him married in their hometown.
He had not noticed how often grief served as his final vote.
Serena stepped toward him.
“I needed you to choose something because I wanted it.”
“So you tested me with my sister?”
“No.”
“You told her to play the song, then changed the plan without telling her clearly, then grabbed her in front of my family.”
“I panicked.”
“That doesn’t answer the first part.”
“I didn’t set a trap.”
“Why did you tell her the tribute was canceled last night but not tell me?”
“Because I wanted to remove one thing without holding a hearing.”
“A hearing.”
“That’s what everything becomes with your family. Everyone gets a vote. Claire gets a vote. Aunt Louise gets a vote. Anna gets three.”
Daniel straightened.
“Do you want to marry me?”
Serena’s face hardened. “Anna told you not to ask me that.”
He glanced at the phone on the counter.
“She said you’d say yes.”
“She was right.”
“That isn’t enough.”
Serena’s eyes filled, though no tears fell.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“The truth is I love you. The truth is I have been lonely beside you. The truth is I did something ugly because I was afraid if that song started, I would disappear from my own wedding. The truth is I saw Anna at the piano and thought she was choosing your mother over me after I had asked her not to. I wanted it to stop. For one second, that mattered more than how I stopped it.”
Daniel’s hands rested at his sides.
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.”
“It’s also the worst.”
“Yes.”
She turned away.
He could have crossed the space between them. Until that morning, touching Serena had been one of the easiest things in his life. A hand at the small of her back in crowded rooms. His thumb against her palm while they waited in lines. Her feet beneath his legs on the couch.
Now he did not know whether comfort would be kindness or concealment.
“Are we getting married?” she asked again.
Daniel looked at the dress, the flowers, the photographs taped around the mirror. One showed them laughing on a beach. Another had been taken in his mother’s kitchen three months before she died. Serena stood between Daniel and Anna, all three holding wooden spoons. Nobody in the photograph knew how much meaning would later be assigned to their positions.
“I need to speak to Anna.”
Serena’s shoulders dropped.
“Of course you do.”
“This isn’t her decision.”
“Then why?”
“Because you hurt her.”
“I apologized.”
“You apologized because I told you to.”
“Should I apologize again?”
“Do you know what you’re sorry for?”
Serena’s mouth opened, then closed.
Daniel picked up Anna’s phone.
“I’ll come back.”
“Before the guests leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“Before my grandmother’s oxygen tank runs out?”
“Serena.”
“I’m sorry. That was—”
“Ugly?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
Daniel left.
While he was gone, Anna received seventeen messages.
Most were from relatives asking whether she was all right. Two were from guests who did not know what had happened and wanted to know whether the ceremony had been postponed because of weather. One was from Peter.
Someone posted the clip. Claire is trying to get the account to remove it. Don’t look.
Anna looked.
The video lasted nine seconds. It began after Serena had already reached the piano. The sound was distorted, but Serena’s words were clear. I told you not to play that song at my wedding. Then Anna’s body jerked sideways. The keys crashed. Claire entered the frame.
The clip ended before Daniel arrived.
The account belonged to a cousin of one of Serena’s bridesmaids. The caption read: Wedding drama at the Bellweather. Bride attacks groom’s sister over a song.
It had been online for twelve minutes and already had hundreds of views.
Claire held out her hand. “Give me the phone.”
Anna did.
“This is not your problem to fix,” Claire said.
“I’m in the video.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
“My face is in it.”
Claire sat beside her and began reporting the post.
Anna watched the frozen image on the screen. Serena’s hand around her wrist. Her own body twisted halfway off the bench. Claire leaning forward.
A still picture eliminated uncertainty. It made everyone look more deliberate than they had been.
“Do I look frightened?” Anna asked.
Claire stopped tapping.
“You were frightened.”
“I know. Do I look it?”
“Yes.”
Anna pressed the cold pack against her wrist again.
Claire studied her. “Why does that bother you?”
“I don’t want strangers deciding who I am from nine seconds.”
“They’re deciding who Serena is.”
“That’s worse.”
“Anna.”
“I’m not protecting her.”
May you like
“It sounds like you are.”
“I’m protecting the difference between what she did and everything people will say she is.”
