“How is it not? You just admitted that he’s a pathetic man who tried to use me to boost his ego.”
“That’s true. It’s also true that I made him sign an updated prenup. One that says that if he ever so much as tries to hit on another woman, he will have to pay me ten million dollars.”
Damian laughs. “That’s one hell of a clause. Good for you.”
She smiles. “Thank you. Now, we are leaving in five minutes. Try to look less flushed when you come to see us off.” The door opens again. She pauses and looks back at me. “And for what it’s worth. I’m glad it was him.” Then she’s gone.
And I’m left standing there, stunned. Reconciling the version of my sister who just walked out of here with the woman who used to cry if her nail polish was chipped before a school dance does something to my brain that I can’t quite get a grip on.
“She’s not as fragile as you think,” Damian says quietly.
“I don’t think she’s fragile,” I reply automatically. “I think she deserves better.”
He studies me. “She’s choosing her version of better.”
That unsettles me more than if he had agreed with me. I turn toward him slowly. “You heard what he said to me.”
“Yes.”
“And she’s just…fine.”
“Like she said, she’s not fine,” Damian corrects. “She’s strategic.”
“I think she’s protecting herself,” I admit. “I’m just not sure ten million is enough protection from how Jason can make a woman feel.”
“Faith isn’t pretending Jason is perfect. She’s betting on probability,” Damian says. “She’s a gambler. If she gets her perfect happily ever after, she wins. If he cheats, she wins. Smart woman.”
“Maybe we have more in common than I thought.”
Damian’s mouth curves faintly. “I’d say so.”
I smooth my dress again, adjusting fabric that doesn’t need adjusting. “I’m going to be happy for her.”
He studies me carefully. “Are you?”
“I’m going to try.” Because maybe this is what growth looks like. Just letting people choose their own mess.
We join the crowd to see off thehappycouple. Laughter erupts somewhere outside, and then the noise swells as the entire wedding crowd begins funneling toward the entrance.
Damian offers me his hand without thinking. I take it.
We step out into the hallway together, merging into the current of guests moving toward the front of the venue. The air outside is cooler now, evening settling in properly. Pink and gold fireworks streak the night sky.
A vintage Rolls Royce sits at the end of the drive, polished and gleaming, white ribbons fluttering from the side mirrors. Faith stands beside it, bouquet gone, veil tucked into one hand. Jason is at her side, his arm curved around her waist like nothing bad has ever happened in their lives.
They look happy. Or at least, they look convincing.
The guests gather in a loose semicircle. Someone passes out sparklers. Another person begins counting down prematurely, and a ripple of laughter corrects them.
I watch Faith closely. She meets my eyes once. There is no accusation there. Just something steady.
Jason doesn’t look at me at all. He’s too busy playing the role of doting husband.
Amber appears at our side unexpectedly. Meron is with her, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back. He looks slightly subdued tonight, less sharp-edged.
She turns to me. Her expression is different than usual. “I owe you an apology.”
The words are quiet enough that only the four of us can hear.
