As we crawled through heavy summer traffic with Ash's glances pinging off the side of my face as I stared ahead, I wondered how I becamethat woman. The one who didn't notice she was being manipulated until she'd written several peer-reviewed journal articles and a graduate thesis without being able to claim credit for any of it. The one who agreed it was a good idea to abandon her academic plans because some guy told her she wasn't up to the challenge. The one who accepted a loveless, emotionless relationship because that guy promised her everything would be better after finals, after the internship, after field work, after defending the dissertation she wrote for him. The one who let him call her by her middle name and wouldn't let her attend university events with him because she was justtoo much. Too, too much. The one who ran away only to have her beautiful, safe new life interrupted because that guy wanted her to finish the paper that would give him the highest degree in the field and her absolutely nothing.
I wasthatwoman. I couldn't even bury that truth under all the other sticky, thorny truths I possessed because Ash saw the whole thing play out in the middle of his office. He knew all my truths and now he couldn't stop himself from dousing me in pity and cautious concern, the kind that stared and frowned in a way that seemed to suggest I'd fall apart under those truths like a spent daisy.
He didn't even want to play the touching game.
It was late in the afternoon, nearly evening when we finally arrived at the hotel in the seaside town of Bristol, Rhode Island. Late enough to keep Ash's phone buzzing with near-constant calls and texts. He ignored them all, not that it reduced their frequency. We had a bit of time before we were due at the rehearsal but knowing Magnolia and Diana, they weren't taking any chances with Ash.
He killed the engine yet made no move to climb out of the car. Instead, Ash trailed his fingers down my arm and gathered my hand in his. "You don't have to do this," he said with a nod toward the stately colonial.
The rehearsal was being held at the historic Blithewold mansion, not this hotel, but I understood his meaning. I could play the Toxic Ex card and lick the wounds of my severed limbs in private if I wanted.
"If you're not up for it," he continued, "there's no reason you have to spend the evening around a bunch of loud people who will want to know everything about you."
"I'm all right, Ash."
I wasn't lying, not really. Part of me was quite well—and newly angry. Not only angry at myself but also at Denis for being such a major weasel. Another part of me was assessing the bumps and bruises incurred in the whole affair of leaving Denis behind and finally, finally standing up for myself. Some of those bruises were big and nasty. They were sure to turn putrid shades of green and yellow as they healed but the greatest myth about healing was that it didn't hurt. That was bullshit. Healing hurt like a motherfucker and nothing you could do would save you from that pain because it was inescapably essential to being whole again.
"Besides," I added, "if I'm not there, you know your mother will go berserk. She'll drive you up the wall with questions and she'll probably hold up the entire rehearsal because of it."
"I have several decades of practice with her driving me up a wall. I'd take that over putting you through an event you can't handle—"
"Don't do that," I interrupted. "I'd prefer if you didn't tell me what I can't handle. Your intentions are good but please don't do that."
I couldn't have that from him. I couldn't let him look at me with sad, searching eyes. I couldn't be his damaged little woman in need of rescue because that wasn't the way it worked around here.
He paused, exhaled, and said, "Okay. I won't. What else?" His phone buzzed—then it buzzed again, and again. He yanked the phone from his pocket and tapped the settings to silent without consulting the messages. "Sorry about that. Please tell me."
"It can wait," I said with a tight laugh. "The bride, however, cannot."
"We don't have to stay long," he said, giving my hand a final squeeze before opening the door. "Actually, I tried to get out of this thing. My mother offered to disown me."
"We'll stay as long as we should." I reached into the back for my weekend bag. "I'm sure it will be a really nice time and I'm not surprised in the least you wanted to avoid such a thing. You have a troubling aversion to enjoying yourself."
"False," he barked, plucking the bag from my hand and swinging it over his good shoulder. "Factually incorrect. Just because my idea of entertainment is reading the newest edition of Publication Sixteen from the Internal Revenue Service doesn't mean I am any less fun than you, love."
And there it was, our quippy little equilibrium. More than any serious conversation, any painful realizations, any storm of emotions, this was what I needed tonight. The way we always were together—banter and bullshitting and picking at each other as we had from the start, when we knew nothing of sore spots and over-the-line exes. I needed a hug from Diana too and some Santillian family noise to drown out all the breathtakingly overwhelming moments I'd lived through today.
And the tender way Ash called melove. I needed that the most.
* * *
Once we checkedinto the hotel, dropped our belongings, and changed into attire befitting a rehearsal dinner, we were out the door again. I was thankful for the snug schedule and the hectic evening of meeting Magnolia and Rob's friends and family, rehearsing the ceremony, and then retiring to a local restaurant for dinner with the wedding party and guests traveling to the wedding from out-of-town. It saved me from accepting any of the concern Ash desperately wanted to dole out.
Another thing saving me was the train wreck of a rehearsal. This beast went off the rails within the first five minutes.
Magnolia's heel snapped off when she stepped out of the mansion and onto the garden path leading toward her aisle, resulting in a twisted ankle and several scraped toes. Her pedicure was trashed.
The officiant referred to Rob as Raymond multiple times, once insisting to Magnolia it was, in fact, Raymond when she attempted to correct him.
Linden wandered away in the middle of the rehearsal to inspect a tree.
The redheaded bridesmaid stepped away to vomit in the bushes. The rumor mill was betting on morning sickness with that one.
And then a crack of lightning lit the skies and an almighty downpour soaked us all before we could take cover. Not that the mansion's staff allowed us inside dripping wet and muddied but they did open up a covered porch area for us to congregate while the storm blew through.
We were still soggy when we arrived at the restaurant but that only amped up this group's excitement. I was thankful for that as much as I was thankful for the hellish rehearsal. It felt good to laugh, to get back to myself.
There were toasts upon toasts, bottomless bottles of wine, and servings of tiramisu larger than my head. Diana fussed over the funky way my hair dried from the rain and the mud splatters on the hem of my sundress after wrapping me up in the best hug of my life. I got everything I needed plus several more hugs from Ash's aunts, each of whom chastised him for not calling or visiting enough. They left the party with promises he'd do better—and a promise from me to hold him to it.
