That was an easy yet monumental question. “No, no, it wasn’t just that. It’s…been everything.”
“Tell me.”
Ani pulled herself out of his arms. She didn’t want to be held or comforted while she shared this. “Everyone, since I was little. Talar was the cute sister, the pretty sister, the smart sister. I was forgotten. My parents didn’t really see me, even though they’re great, I know. But it always seemed like they were more into each other than being parents. They never paid attention to the things that really mattered to me. So between that and mediocre grades, middle-school bullies, that fucking dance. Being a shitty paralegal. Being a wedding planner formodest clients, having that in print now. A lackluster love life until Kami, then being dumped by Kami. I mean, I’m over it now, but—I don’t know. All of it. Years and years and years.”
Raffi stared at her, and she thought he might have tears in his eyes. They shone in a way she’d never seen before.
She continued, “And I feel so stupid saying any of this to you—you, who’s had actual tragedy. You, who despite all that, have come so far.”
“Have I, though?” Raffi asked.
“What? Of course you have. Listen, Raffi, I, I—”
She was about to say it, make the break, when Raffi interrupted her.
His voice, while steady, had a sharp edge to it, just barely there. “Ani, if you leave me now, I’m not sure my heart cantake it. Do what you want, what you think is right, but I’m fragile when it comes to you.” He took a step closer, his hands flexing at his sides as if he wanted to reach for her but didn’t dare. “If you leave me now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to come back.”
She stared at him, angry. That was not what she wanted to hear, to be guilted into being with him.
“I don’t want you to be with me just because of some default. Because you’re too afraid to be away from me. I want you because you want me.”
But before he could respond, there was a rustle in the bushes. An animal? Or worse, a reporter? Then a bright flash blinded her, followed by the sound of a shutter. She spun around, arms instinctively crossing over her face as if she could somehow shield herself from the already-taken photograph. This was all she needed, to be splashed across theDaily Mailyet again, her face plastered beneath some lurid headline, this time painted as a strumpet, a drama-causer, a woman caught in another mess of her own making. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out logic, drowning out everything.
She couldn’t do it. She had to leave.
“Raffi, I’m sorry,” she said and broke away to rejoin the wedding, forcing herself to avoid Raffi’s presence and act like nothing was wrong. She could not wait until this wedding—the one she’d been anticipating for more than half a year—was finally over.
32
Raffi
There was nothingfor him to do. Raffi woke up in his bed in a cold sweat. He felt he’d had nightmares all last night but couldn’t remember them distinctly. Not that it mattered; he was pushed into a living nightmare. One where Ani ran away from him and wouldn’t answer his texts or calls.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d finally found someone he loved, but he couldn’t hang on to her. They may have had a chance to work things out during the wedding, but then he had to go and ruin it and basicallythreatenthat he’d never get back together with her if she dumped him, that he couldn’t take it. What the hell kind of scared little boy sentiment was that? He knew he was stronger than that. Fuck.Fuck.
He puttered around his house, having no motivation to work out, no appetite. His inbox was begging to be attended to, but he had no desire to do so.
Then his phone buzzed, and he was a fool to even think for a second it would be Ani. It was his book club group chat wondering how the wedding went. He could have ignored it or sent back a generic “Great!” but decided maybe he needed someadvice. He wanted to take action. He knew that if he told Mad, Bad, and Dangerous about what happened, they wouldn’t shame him; they would help him. He texted them back,I blew it. Not the wedding. Ani.
Immediately texts rained in, asking him what happened, and when he told them the last thing he’d said to Ani—wincing while he typed it—and then about the photographer in the bushes, there was quiet for a moment. Then several sad-face emojis and more than one “Oh no…”s. He told them he knew he’d made a mistake but wasn’t sure how to make it up to Ani.
Then there was a knock at his door. That was strange. No one ever came to his door. Ani. Maybe it would be Ani. He threw down his phone and ran toward the door, hoping despite himself. But then he saw the outline. Someone very tall, large. Not Ani. He slowed his pace and his heart rate slowed, crushed once again. An idiot twice over this morning, thinking she’d reach out to him in any way after what he’d said to her.
When he opened the door, he found his father standing there. With…a cane. Holy shit. That was new.
Raffi stepped aside and let his father in. His dad carefully walked over to the dining room table, pulled out a chair, and sat, taking in the view. Raffi joined him. The two men sat in silence.
“The wedding went well,” his dad said in Armenian.
Was this an olive branch? Interesting.
“Yes, it did. And judging by the number of emails in our inbox, we’re going to have a very full roster.”
His father raised an eyebrow, just slightly. “How many did you receive?”
Raffi pulled out his phone, checked the winery’s inbox,which he had only glanced at earlier, scrolled, and had to click to the next fifty emails before he reached the end. “At least seventy,” he said. Raffi clicked on one and skimmed it. “People want to travel in for it, too. This couple is from Washington.”
Raffi’s dad nodded slowly, thinking. “We raise the booking fees, and if we have a wedding forty or so Saturdays of the year, we’ll be in the black.”
