“No, Temperance. I want you to make peace with it. As I said, penance, not punishment.”
The balcony goes quiet again. The breeze shifts cooler. I look inside again at her pristine living room. At the version of life I used to think I wanted.
I don’t want Tuscany or curated perfection. Not anymore. I want sticky fingers and mismatched blankets and a man who feeds stray dogs soup. I want a real life. Not a magazine.
Faith’s request is the last vestige of someone who’s about to embark on an imitation of life and call it a future. I almost feel sorry for her.
“I won’t try to hurt you again,” I tell her. “Your life with Jason is yours. It has nothing to do with me, and I wouldn’t want it to. I cannot imagine he wants me to be your maid of honor.”
Her lips smooth again after a tight expression. “Will you do it?”
A dodge, followed by a telling question. He does not want me in his wedding, but he’s willing to allow it to make her feel better.
So, she wants me to smile in pictures with the man who once promised me this view. The man who started porking my sister behind my back. The man who cheated on dozens of girlfriends before her—a fact she well knows.
If that’s the sad excuse of a life she wants for herself, so be it. And if I can eliminate some of my guilt for trying to break them up by showing up for the spectacle, all the better. “I’ll do it.”
She exhales slowly. “Thank you.”
I nod once. Part of me feels like being her maid of honor is going to suck and actually be penance, but another part of me is petty and happy to watch the shitshow firsthand. Because there’s no way this won’t be a shitshow.
Jason actually making it down the aisle? Absolutely no chance of that. The man cannot keep his dick in his pants. In fact, I’d be shocked if he hasn’t already cheated on Faith.
Wait. She forgave our father. Has she already forgiven Jason?
I gulp more tea down, afraid to ask the question, and afraid not to. Faith is a big girl, and she can make her own choices, but I’m not sure I can stand next to her through the wedding process if he’s already cheated.
“Faith, has Jason cheated on you?”
Her cheeks flush. “No! I can’t believe you’d ask such a thing.”
“Given his history, how can I not ask it?”
“He has not,” she says sharply. “And I’ll thank you to keep such speculation to yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I could watch you marry him if he had. That’s the only reason I ask. Everything else aside, I have more respect for you than that.”
The look of surprise on her face is marred only by the Botox in her forehead.
Nicholas starts fussing, the small sound slicing cleanly through the polished quiet of the balcony. I reach down and scoop him up automatically, pressing him against my chest. Walker stirs in the stroller, face scrunching in that pre-cry warning way.
Faith watches me. Not critically. Curiously. “You make it look…natural.”
“It’s not,” I reply. “It’s chaos. I’m just good at multitasking.”
She smiles faintly. “I don’t think I could do that.”
The admission surprises me. “You don’t want to?”
She hesitates. “I want a life that’s structured,” she says carefully. “Predictable.”
I glance back inside at the pristine living room. The spotless surfaces. The curated stillness. “Well, you certainly have that.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “I do.”
And suddenly I feel something I didn’t expect. Not envy. Pity. She needs this empty version of life to be happy. The clean lines. The perfect view.
I used to need that too. I used to think happiness meant the right apartment, the right man, the right social orbit. I thought if I could just land the correct man to give it to me, everything else would align.
