“No.” I shake my head.
Silence fills the room as if they can’t believe I’m making this an issue. As if on cue, the music starts playing outside, soft and romantic. The opening notes of the procession drift through the building’s open windows.
“Don’t embarrass us,” my mother hisses. “Just get ready to go out there. We’re about to begin.”
“Me?” I laugh. “I’mthe one embarrassing us? Are you for real right now, Mom?”
She swats at my father. “Get them out there. They’re inflaming the situation. I’ll deal with her.”
Good luck with that.
“Silvie, be the bigger person here,” my mom urges, holding up her hands as if she’s asking me to surrender. “Please.”
The laugh that escapes me is bordering on hysterical. “I literally never want to be the bigger person ever again. In fact, we can all go to hell. I’ll drive the bus.”
Her jaw practically unhinges. It takes her a full twenty seconds to gather herself. Then, she scoffs angrily at me. “Stop it. Youwillmarry Tyler. You know what you need to do for the family.”
There’s a twinge of guilt that threatens to yank me back into submission. I know my responsibility to my family and what’s at stake here. But I refuse to be so utterly disrespected.
I smile, and not the practiced, forced one. The real one. At least it feels real. “I’m leaving.”
Her nostrils flare and she stares at me with hatred.
It takes some effort getting me and my over-the-top dress out of the chair, but I eventually manage without help. My legs are a bit shaky, but my heart is racing wildly. My escape is so close I can taste it. I swipe an open bottle of chilled champagne from the bucket on a nearby table, take a swig, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Mom quietly barks out orders, but I’m done.
I pick up my purse and overnight bag and sling them over myshoulder. Then, I turn and walk out of the room, past the open doors and stunned wedding coordinator, chugging from the bottle as I go.
“Don’t embarrass us.”
Too late, Mom.
I don’t look back as I make my way down to the pathway to the road. Cabs line the streets, and I lift the bottle to signal I need a ride.
A cab pulls up almost instantly. I open the door, throw in my bag, hike up my dress, and slide in as best I can. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I’m finally choosing myself. And for the first time in my life, that feels like freedom.
2
Silvie
The cab smellslike stale coffee, and the driver has “Jolene” by Dolly Parton playing. I start laughing uncontrollably at the irony.
“You can’t drink in here,” the cab driver calls out as he eyes my champagne bottle in the rearview mirror.
Our eyes meet and I take another swig from the bottle, defiance gushing through me kind of like the tears that have unhelpfully began falling.
I don’t want to cry over what happened, but now that I’m free ofthem—of that life—I can’t help it. They’re tears of relief. I almost made a horrible mistake marrying Tyler.
The cab driver frowns as he skims his gaze over my cheeks that are no doubt streaked in mascara. Considering the lipstick stain on the back of my hand, I imagine I have that smeared across my face as well. And, when I sat down in the cabon my veil, I felt several bobby pins rip the hair straight from my scalp.
Do I look like I’ve crawled my way out of a battle? Sure feels like it. The champagne bottle is my prize.
“Okay, okay,” the man mutters, shaking his head. “You can drink in here. Looks like you need it.”
My muscles lose some of their tension and I relax before taking another hearty swig from the bottle. I lean back against the seat with relief to be free.
The driver twists around in his seat to study me curiously. He’s older with a gray mustache and kind eyes. “Where to, miss?”
