“No, I did like it—loved it actually,” he says slowly.
“Oh, thank God. So you just forgot to put it on. No big deal. I’ll see if Stella can go get it.” I slide my phone out of my pocket. “I know you’re probably dying for a scotch but I just want to take a picture with you first.” I glance around for the best light. “Over there?” I say, pointing next to the railing, the sun casting a red and orange glow across the sky as it begins to set. I grab Max’s hand and start to walk toward the edge of the lanai, then glance back. “Courtney? Will you take it?”
Courtney obediently follows us and snaps several pictures.
“Can you take one more?” I ask apologetically, noticing Max looks like he’s posing for a passport photo in all of them. I turn to him, his jaw tight and his body rigid, whispering in his ear, “Will you please smile?”
But the corners of Max’s lips still don’t curve upward. “We need to talk,” he says quietly.
“After this,” I say through my grin, my hand perfectly poised on Max’s chest as I tuck a wisp of my hair behind my ear and tilt my chin downward. “Trust me. You’ll thank me when we’re showing this photo to our kids.”
“No, I need to talk to you right now,” Max replies forcefully, and I step back, his voice sounding foreign to me—almost guttural. I glance over to see if Courtney heard his reprimand, but she’s disappeared into the party like a ghost, the only sign she’s ever been there is my phone, resting on the edge of a teak chair.
“What is it?” I ask slowly, our eyes locked. Something is wrong. Very wrong.
It’s the moment I can feel him begin to slip through my fingers.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m sorry, Kate,” Max says, his eyes avoiding mine.
“For what? What’s going on?” I ask, feeling off balance, as if I’m on the teacup ride at Disneyland, spinning around and around while everyone else stands still. “If this is about the watch, it’s no big deal if you don’t like it,” I say, trying desperately to find a reason why Max has that terrible look on his face that I’ve never seen before.
“God, I thought I could do this. I’m sorry . . .” he repeats, his face pale, a small bead of sweat forming on his brow. As he reaches up to wipe it away, the reality of the situation hits me. I instinctively put my right hand over my left and cover my engagement ring. This can’t be happening.
“Kate?” Max’s eyes are watery. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I can’t do this. I convinced myself I would feel better about things when I saw you tonight. That my doubts would disappear. But they haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Doubts?
“Hey, you two lovebirds,” Stella interrupts—her singsongy voice slicing through the air like a knife. “As your wedding planner, I think I speak for everyone when I say you have your whole lives to be alone together. It’s time to join the party and mingle!” She hands us each a glass of champagne and motions for us to step closer to her. “So”—she lowers her voice before continuing, “Aunt Kris is asking for a gin and tonic but we only have vodka—can we make an exception or should I tell her no?”
“Make an exception,” I answer just as Max says, “Tell her no.”
Stella frowns as she studies our faces, her wide eyes finally registering the tension. “I’ll figure it out,” she mumbles before heading toward the bar.
I will myself to look directly into Max’s eyes as “Brass Monkey,” the first song on our iPod playlist, booms from the speakers. Behind him, I glimpse Jules and her children dancing in a circle, occupying the otherwise empty dance floor.
I force a smile when I catch her eye, fighting the desire to wave her over, to make her tell me everything will be okay, that my life isn’t falling apart—not just in front of me, but in front of the people I love most. To have her shake Max by the shoulders and whisper just the right combination of words in his ear that will make him change his mind. And then, if that doesn’t work, pull back her fist and pop him in the mouth. Hard.
Jules takes in my tight smile and gives me a curious look. “You okay?” she mouths from across the room. I nod and blow her a quick kiss to prove my point before turning back to Max.
“God. Katie. I don’t know what to say.”
“Do not call me that,” I say through gritted teeth, the sound of his nickname for me making me feel light-headed.
“I didn’t mean to let it get this far.”
“It’s our rehearsal dinner, Max. What the fuck? You’ve had over three hundred days to tell me you didn’t want to do this. And you choose now?”
Max rubs his neck. “I know—I kept thinking maybe I was just nervous, like I was having—”