Carter

She's so beautiful, she makes my heart skip several beats and feel too big for my chest. Nobody else would accuse her of outshining the bride, who wears a sparkly, fluffy white gown with dramatic make-up, but Evie is the one who captures and holds my attention. My little girl, my doll, the one that I love.


Her light purple dress hugs her body, hinting at all the curves I long to run my hands over. I want to kiss every inch of that girl, worship her body until she forgets all the issues that came between us. She's still wearing her house key, I think, but the chain and key are tucked under the front of her dress. I want to take out the pendant, kiss it, make her mine.

I want to settle down with her and Leonard and get a new house key for her to wear. We'll plant a rose garden of our own and watches the blossoms sway in the breeze as we grow old together.

Evie says something to her mother and sister, then hurries over to Leonard and me. 'What are you doing here?"


'We're here for you," Leonard says.

'But I'm in a wedding." She looks from me to him.


Keeping my gaze steady on hers, I say, 'We'll wait."

'You two need to leave," her mother says, hurrying forward.

'Francesca," Leonard says. 'Good afternoon. Evie—Carter and I will be nearby."

Francesca folds her arms over her chest. 'You have to leave this park."

I'm tempted to say something about public spaces, but it's Evie who speaks up.

'Mom, this is a park. They can be here, just like anyone else. The only place off-limits is the rose garden because we reserved it."

'Mom, it's almost time," the bride says.

'You're right." Scowling at Link and me, Francesca takes the bride—Chanel—by the arm and marches her away to a hidden area, probably to wait for her cue to march.

Evie stands before us. 'I have to go."

'I know," I say. 'But when you're done?—"

'I'll come back," she says.

'Hey! Hey!" A loud, male voice shouts.

Evie's face pales as she looks past us toward the sound. Leonard and I turn around. It's that guy—Thomas.

'Are these guys bothering you, Evangeline?" he asks, glaring at us both. He looks like he's been drinking heavily, his eyes red-rimmed, his skin pasty. This is the groom, but his suit appears to have been borrowed from someone who isn't even his size. 'You two need to head out. She doesn't want to talk to you."

'Actually, she does want to talk to them," Evie says. 'But I'll come back after. Thomas, aren't you supposed to be up at the front, with the pastor? Getting married…to my sister?"

He visibly gulps and, shoulders hunched, walks back up the sidewalk to the separate entrance to the garden.

There's so much I want to say to Evie, so many words. None of them would fix things immediately, but we've waited almost three weeks to talk to her. I want to get started now.

'I'll talk to you both soon." Evie gives Leonard and me a long look.

I can't read her expression, and it's killing me.

Evangeline

A soft, summer breeze rustles the rose bushes. Right now in Paris, Antoine is probably celebrating Bastille Day with his friends, drinking at a café where they can watch the parade. He invited me to join them, but I had to come back to the US.

I don't think I'll return to France after this. Not if Leonard's and Carter's presence in this park means what I hope it means.

They're still standing near the park entrance, and I can see their shapes from here. A bench is close by, but they don't sit down. They're simply waiting.

Only about thirty people are on the guest list. It seems Thomas and Chanel don't have many friends—or at least none of them close enough to interrupt their Saturday for a wedding. Most of the people here, I recognize as friends of my mom, but Thomas's parents are here as well. I haven't seen them since right before the break-up. Neither of them has the guts to meet my eyes. They know what happened, and how Chanel is related to me.

Harold walks Chanel down the little aisle to a classical piece played by a violinist. The sweet scent of roses fills the air. Despite the last-minute arrangements for the wedding—which I now realize are due to Chanel and Thomas expecting a baby—it's a fairly classy affair. It's everything my mother wants, anyway.

I'm watching Chanel and Harold, but something seems off over on the groom's side. I think it's Thomas's cousin, the best man, staring at me, but nope. It's Thomas.

My face feels hot. He should not be doing this, not now, not here. Not ever.

Resolutely, I keep my eyes on Chanel, hoping Thomas will take a hint and do the same. He's going to blow it if he can't get himself together. Chanel's already accepting the text messages, but at some point, she's going to lose patience and call this off.

The vows are spoken. I space out through most of it, because if I think too hard, I'll remember how Thomas had promised to say those vows to me. Yet here I have to listen to him repeat them all to my sister. It's so freaking wrong, and yet everyone's acting like this wedding is a magical, pure expression of love.

I start to feel sick to my stomach, but then I remember Leonard and Carter. They're waiting for me over there—they have my back.

Thomas kisses my sister, and everyone stands while the two lead the tiny procession of me and the best man back down the aisle.

After an eternity of hugs and congratulations from the wedding guests, the pastor pulls Thomas and Chanel aside.

'It's time to sign the marriage license," he says. 'It won't be legal until you both sign and I authenticate it."

'Oh, right," Chanel says, giggling.

She looks less joyful than I'd expect, and more shell-shocked. She's not smiling at all, and I wonder if she's truly as happy with this wedding as she says she is.

She worked hard to win Thomas from me, but it turns out that he's no prize.

We move around the rose-studded archway while wedding guests get into cars to meet the bridal party at a fancy French restaurant that we booked for Chanel and Thomas's reception.

The pastor holds out a clipboard with some official-looking paperwork. Thomas signs his name quickly, then passes the pen to Chanel. Wedding rings sparkle on their fourth fingers.

Chanel holds her pen over the registry. This is it—the moment that she'll be tied to Thomas fully and legally.

'Chanel, are you sure?" I blurt.

She looks up, frowning. 'What? We just went through the whole ceremony, and you're asking me this?"

'It's just…the texts," I whisper. 'Have you really forgiven him? It's really fine with you? He's still sending them."

Thomas's face pales. Mom's face goes red.

Instead of looking sad or upset, though, Chanel just looks confused. 'Texts?"

'It's nothing," Mom says.

'Thomas?" Chanel says. 'What texts?"

He jams his hands into his suit pockets and mumbles, 'I don't know."

'You're lying," Chanel says. 'I know what it looks like because I watched you lie to Evangeline for months. What texts?"

'You didn't tell her?" I ask Mom.

I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. Mom said that Thomas and Chanel were working it out, and I shouldn't insert myself into their relationship. If Chanel is pregnant, it makes even more sense not to upset her.

But this is something she should know. I thought she knew.

Chanel turns to our mother. 'Tell me what?"

'It was just cold feet," Thomas rushes to say.

I laugh. 'One of your texts says, word for word, This isn't cold feet, I really want to be with you."

Eyes flashing, Chanel says, 'Evangeline, are you just trying to fuck up my wedding?"

The pastor flinches. He shifts to the side as if trying to escape.

'No, I'm not trying to do anything," I say. 'It's the truth and I thought you knew. Look, here's my phone."

'Evangeline." Mom's voice is sharp. 'Don't you dare show that to Chanel."

I hesitate, phone clutched in my hand. Thomas looks at it like I'm holding a snake.

Chanel stares between all of us, her gaze stopping at Thomas. 'I guess I don't need to see any texts—your reactions say enough."

'I was confused," Thomas says. 'Evangeline kept tempting me?—"

'You're lying," I say. 'I shut you down every time you texted. I have proof right here on my phone for anyone to read."

Chanel turns to Mom next. 'And you knew about all of this?"

'Sweetheart." Mom wrings her hands together, her long fingernails shining. 'I encouraged Evangeline to stop flirting with Thomas. I want what's best for you."

'What's best for me…like a cheating husband?" Chanel asks.

I have to bite my tongue. Is Chanel surprised that Thomas would cheat?

'I want your happiness," Mom says. 'And for some reason, that happiness includes this man right here. Have you forgotten that? Evangeline's been scheming this whole time, trying to win him back."

'That's not true," I say, but Mom talks over me.

'I wouldn't be surprised," she says to me, 'if that's the reason you wanted to stay at your dad's house—so you could have privacy with Thomas."

'Stop it," I say. 'Take my phone, Chanel. You can read all the texts there."

When I try to pass it to her, Mom grips my wrist, hard.

'Don't you dare," Mom says.

'That hurts," I tell her, unable to believe this has gotten so physical, so quickly. My chest feels cold and I'm not sure what to do. Except I know I need to get as far away from this shitshow as possible.

For days I questioned whether a relationship with Leonard and Carter could ever work. Two men with one woman? What would people think, what would they say? It simply isn't done here.

But then I look at Chanel and Thomas and the mess they've created out of their lives—and my life, for a while. And I sure as fuck don't want a relationship like that.

No, I'm ready for what Leonard and Carter could build with me, assuming that's why they're here. I'm going to choose love, whatever form it takes.

My mom still holds my arm, even though I struggle, trying to pull away. 'Mom, let go, you're hurting me."

The pastor steps forward. 'I think we should all calm down and remember that we are family under God's protection and we love each other?—"

'Go to hell," Mom says to him.

He steps back again, as if afraid she'll strike.

I wrench my arm away from my mother, and her nails leave scratches. Blood wells in the cuts. We look down, both of us shocked at what she's done.

'If you hadn't pulled away, Evangeline—" she begins.

Not an apology. Not concern for my pain. Just blame thrown on me—as always.

'I'm done," I say, blinking back tears. 'Chanel, I'll forward screenshots to you, and it's up to you whether you believe me or not. Thomas, whether or not you end up married to my sister, I'm done—I'm blocking you, I refuse to see you ever again. And Mom—" My voice breaks. 'All I ever wanted was your love and your approval. I can't believe it's taken me twenty-six years to realize I never had either of those things from you and I'll never get them. I'm done trying."

I spin on my heel and walk away. I can hear my mother tutting and complaining about what an ungrateful daughter I am, how she gave me everything, she doesn't know what I'm talking about, and so on.

My arm stings as I march down the aisle, but I ignore it. Park workers are already clearing out the chairs and decorations.

'Are you okay?" one of the female workers asks, her eyes wide with concern.

'I'm going to be fine," I say, forcing a smile. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and march forward, toward the two hulking silhouettes near the park entrance.