I have been inside Westminster Abbey several times since I moved to England, most often to draw, and invariably it would be packed with throngs of gawkers glued to their audio guides—or, at the very least, some docents and a school field trip. But I can probably count on two hands the number of people in history who’ve seen the Abbey completely empty, and now Nick and I are among them. After our rehearsal, Nick had asked the dean for a moment alone for us to reflect on our big day, and the dean had been only too thrilled to escort everyone else around the Cloisters so that we could be properly reverent of our forthcoming sacrament. While Nick lights a candle that I assume is for Emma—he does this in every church he enters—I wait for him in the Henry VII Lady Chapel, a large, rounded marvel behind the altar where a bunch of kings and queens and other mighty personages lie in eternal state. It’s just me and the ghosts, all of whom I’m sure have a variety of notes, largely hypocritical, about my behavior. In the distance I hear Nick’s footsteps click across the marble floor. My skin crawls. I am afraid.
And then he’s there. Nick makes for me briefly, instinctively, and then catches himself and clenches his entire body.
“I’ve heard the most ridiculous story,” he says, his voice pitched high and tight. “About my brother snogging the woman I’m supposed to marry.”
“Nick—”
“I know, it’s mental, I didn’t believe it at first, either,” he says, his tone veering slightly hysterical. “Real forbidden passion stuff. Quite juicy. Can’t wait for the next installment.”
“Nick, I’m sorry, and I love you,” I say, as fervently as I can. “I could say both of those things a thousand times every day for the rest of our lives and it wouldn’t come close to how much I mean them.”
“You’ve an odd way of showing it.”
“I know it looks that way,” I say, “but Nick, I promise you, we’re not in love, he’s not in love—”
“Oh, good, then you were just pawing at each other for sport, that’s much better.”
“I just mean that he’s mixed up. We both were. And it wasn’t pawing.” I try again. “Please don’t be angry at him, he was—”
“Angry at Freddie?” he spits. “You’re worried about me being angry at Freddie? I’m angry at Freddie every other day. I can deal with being angry at Freddie. I’m not used to being angry at you. And I am so angry, Bex. I can’t fathom where I’m going to put all this anger so it won’t explode out of me.” He puffs out a breath. “I don’t even care about the press stuff. I could live with that. It’s the fact that it’s true. And now your first concern is for him—”
“It isn’t, Nick. It’s for you. I’m just…” I can barely say it. “I’m scared that this is the end for you and me, and I don’t want you to lose us both on the same day.”
Nick purses his lips and fights to keep from crying. My hands are shaking.
“I almost wish Clive had told me,” he says. “Because I never have to see him again to relive that memory. But Lacey apparently gave Freddie a heads-up, and he thought he’d be considerate and tell me so that you didn’t have to. And it was so thoughtful. Really aces of him to break my heart right before my wedding rehearsal so I don’t have any happy memories of this whole experience at all, if it even happens.”
And there it is.
Nick flicks his eyes at me, then drops his head. “I can’t even look at you,” he whispers. “It used to be my favorite thing to do. And now…”
“Can I explain?” I ask.
“I’ve heard it.”
“Not my side,” I say. “It didn’t happen without context, Nick, and maybe it won’t help, but please. Let me try.”
Nick is vibrating from anger or sadness, possibly both. He climbs into one of the benches and sits down, facing me, arms resting on the wood rail.
“All right,” he says. “Tell me how you kissed my brother and never told me. Twice. Shall we have the dean take your confession?”
I absorb that one. I owe him that much. I don’t know how to defend myself against this, exactly, but maybe I don’t have to; maybe I just lay it all out there and let him accept me or not. I sit down on the opposite side of the chapel. The gulf between us is chilly, and it is horrible.
“The first time, you and I were broken up, and Freddie and I were drunk, and lonely, and probably horny, and it was pitch black and we bumped into each other. It could have been anyone, and once our senses caught up with us, we freaked out,” I say. “I didn’t tell you because you specifically said, twice, that you didn’t want to know what happened while we were apart.”
“I didn’t mean that with regards to my own brother.”
“You’re totally right. I shouldn’t have listened to you. I thought it would stir the pot for no good reason, so when you offered me a way out, I took it,” I say. “Remember, though, you practically turned green when we talked about you and Pudge, and this was just a kiss.”
“Was there another time that wasn’t?”
“Not with Freddie,” I say. If Nick and I have any chance, there needs to be nothing else left to catch him by surprise. “But I did sleep with Clive during that time. And yeah, I’m pretty skeeved out about it right now.”
“There, we are in agreement,” Nick mutters.
“I hadn’t seen you or talked to you since the breakup, and I swear, Nick, you try standing anywhere near Ceres de Whatever in fucking foot pants while she looks so perfect and perfect for you. I just could not,” I recall. “Clive rescued me and we got super-crazy drunk in Paris. I wanted to take it back right after it happened, and that was before he turned out to be a sleaze.”
Nick rests his forehead on the rail of the choir pew. “Is there anyone else you shagged that I should know about?”
I smack my bench with both palms. “No,” I say. “No. There are plenty of high horses you can climb up on right now, but not that one. We were broken up. For good, as far as I knew. And if the papers are right, you used that time to screw every ex-girlfriend you had and more people besides. Don’t you dare shame me for anything I did.”
His eyes flick up at me apologetically before returning to the floor.
“You said the first time didn’t mean anything,” he says. “With Freddie. That implies the second time did.”
“It did,” I say. “But not in the way you think.”
“Do enlighten me,” he says, his cheeks bright with anger. “I’m on the edge of my pew.”
“I was upset,” I say. “More than upset. I was wrecked. I was lonely, and I was overwhelmed, and you’d been gone for almost a year. I got scared that I was in over my head with all this.”
“So you’re punishing me for being in the Navy?” he asks curtly.
“I’m not punishing you for anything!” I spit back. “Do you really think that’s who I am?”