Celia and Trevor were trying to figure out what was going on, along with the Batemans, who appeared perplexed at the circus around them.
Celia's face crumpled, her attention focusing on Kelly. The happy bride from the ceremony was gone. In her place was the Celia that Kelly knew better. The sister who had spent her whole life scanning for disaster and assigning blame before the dust settled.
"What did you do this time?" Celia's voice was shrill enough to cut through the sirens and the crowd, and the shouted orders of police officers. She grabbed Kelly's arm and pulled sharply, her tone one of pure fury. "You ruined everything. This was my day. My wedding. And you ruined it. You ruin everything.”
Kelly looked at her sister's hand on her arm, the fingers digging into her skin. The immaculate pink manicure. The diamond engagement ring catching the floodlight. She looked at Celia's face, contorted with the familiar accusation that had defined their relationship for as long as Kelly could remember.
She didn't flinch. She didn't apologize. She didn't shrink.
"This time it wasn't me," Kelly said. Her voice was steady. Clear. The steadiest it had been all night. "This time it was golden boy Rob."
Celia's mouth opened. No sound came out.
"Mom and Dad," Kelly continued, raising her voice enough to carry to her parents, who were pushing through the crowd with matching expressions of horror, trying to get to their son. "You're going to want to get your perfect child a good attorney. And I hope you will all be very happy together. Without me.”
Her father stopped walking. Her mother's hand went to her chest. They stared at Kelly, and then past her, toward the policecars where officers had lifted Rob to his feet. His hands were behind his back. The metal of the handcuffs caught the light.
His face was a swollen ruin of tears and terror, and he was saying something to the officers, still talking, still explaining, still trying to make someone understand that he hadn't meant it, that it had been an accident, that he'd only been trying to help.
Some things never changed.
The Bateman family stood in the parking lot and watched their golden son get put into the back of a police cruiser, and for the first time in Kelly's memory, none of them had anything to say.
Kelly turned away from them. She took a breath of heavy night air and the faintest trace of…something...teased her nostrils. It was floral and familiar, and she hadn't smelled it in over a decade.
Lori's perfume. The one she’d asked for and then got for Christmas, a pink bottle with a gold cap that sat in a place of pride on her dresser. The one Lori had worn every single day of high school because a magazine had told her it was the scent her favorite actress had used. Lori had gone all in, spraying it on with abandon before every class and every game and every Saturday afternoon at the mall.
Kelly's eyes went to the edge of the parking lot. The shadows beyond the floodlight's reach. The dark space where the garden met the fence, and the willow tree's branches hung low.
She saw nothing, of course. There was nothing to see.
But the scent lingered. Just for a moment. A breath of pink bottles and gold caps and a girl who had sprayed too much perfume and laughed about it.
Kelly closed her eyes, filling her lungs with it. One more time.
We did it, Lori. We found him. I'm only sorry it took so long. I'm sorry you couldn't rest in peace all these years. I'm sorry you and Ethan won't get to be married and raise your family.I'm sorry that it all ended for you so soon. You deserved the fairy tale. You deserved the castle in Europe, the rich husband, and the life you dreamed about in study hall when we should have been paying attention.
But I promise I won't waste my chance. You taught me that. Life and love are precious, and they can be taken away in a moment by someone you'd never suspect. I won't forget that. Not ever.
A breeze wafted through, and the scent faded away as quickly as it had arrived. The warm evening air replaced it, carrying the ordinary smells of grass, car exhaust, and damp soil from the early-morning rain shower.
Kelly opened her eyes and turned to Ben, who was standing beside her with the patience of a man who had learned to wait when it mattered. He hadn't asked what she was doing. He hadn't interrupted. He'd just been there, which was what he did best.
She reached for his hand. His fingers closed around hers immediately. Warm. Steady. Real.
Behind them, Celia was crying. Her mother was calling Kelly's name in a voice that was equal parts accusation and bewilderment. Her father was striding toward the police cars with the rigid gait of a man whose world was collapsing and who intended to manage the collapse with the same authority he managed everything else.
Kelly didn't turn around. She didn't respond. She didn't offer explanations or apologies or the careful, measured words she'd spent her entire life using to keep them calm and out of the details of her existence.
She was done with that.
She had her work. She had her friends. She had a podcast and a career built on finding truth for people who deserved it. She had a man beside her who walked toward guns and watchedcheesy television and loved her anyway. Not in spite of her flaws. Not because of them. Just her. The real her. The one her family had never bothered to see.
But Ben had seen it. They weren’t posing for the cameras and pretending everything was perfect. It wasn’t, and they weren’t. They didn’t want to be.
They just wanted to be together and happy.
That was more than enough.
