“I went to his room, but he wasn’t there. I’ve tried calling—” But her words came out on a sob, and she couldn’t finish.
Renee threw the covers from her body, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she yelled. “Why is everyone keeping secrets from me?” She stood at the side of the bed, her hair was an unbrushed mess, and Samantha had no idea what to tell her.
She pulled up to her knees, trying to come up with something to say. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I should have said something, but it was your wedding, your big day, and I didn’t want to take anything away from you.”
Renee spun around. “That’s bullshit!” she yelled, gripping the balled-up tissue in her fist.
Samantha turned toward the darkened window, trying without success to pull herself together. “You’re right.” She choked. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I didn’t tell you for a lot of reasons… Because my feelings were so big. Because it was all happening so fast.”
“You think I can’t handle big? I’m a fucking adult, Sam. Things happen. Don’t you think I know that?”
Samantha swallowed and looked back to her friend. “I didn’t want to share it, Ren. Not even with you. Because sharing things with you always makes them real.” It was the honest to God truth. The completely selfish truth of a girl who didn’t trust her own heart. She took another tissue from the box, her shoulders shaking. Then she felt Renee move beside her on the bed, smoothing the hair from her eyes and cheeks.
Samantha looked up, tears rolling down her face.
“Do you love him?” Renee whispered, her face just as tear-streaked as Samantha’s.
She didn’t hesitate before answering, because she wanted the words spoken more than anything. “Yes. I love him. I love him so much.”
Renee pulled her into her arms, and they both collapsed into each other’s embrace. “Then you have to tell him.”
Samantha’s words were barely audible as she nodded her head. “I know.”
30
Chapter Thirty
The next morning went by in a blur. There were hair appointments, nail appointments, and makeup from the moment she opened her eyes. And Tristan was still nowhere to be found. She was sure he was with the guys, doing all the wedding things he was supposed to, but the fact that she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the rehearsal left her stomach in knots.
She stood on the step, waiting for her best friend to walk down the aisle, and glanced over the crowd of people, knowing they waited with bated breath, just as she did. But for a different reason. Because they were waiting for their bride, her best friend for all eternity, while she was waiting for Tristan.
The door opened at the back of the room, and the crowd turned and rose out of their chairs. Renee stood at the open doorway, the “Bridal Chorus” playing softly from the piano in the background. Her dress was off-white, with a lace bodice and delicate sleeves that hung off her shoulders like lace ivy. Her head was high, her skirt simple, draping elegantly all the way to the floor—showing bits of her long legs as she took step after step.
But Samantha barely noticed her, because it was Tristan that made all the air expel from her throat. He was dressed in a tan tuxedo. An off white button-up shirt fastened at his tanned throat, but it was his eyes that memorized her most. They were full of emotion, with bits of gray darkening their depths. He looked, emotional—because he was taking on the role that should have been his father’s. Taking on the role of a person who was far too selfish to be there today.
Tristan pulled in a deep breath and squeezed his sister’s hand in a transfer of strength. Samantha’s eyes moved down to her feet, because as emotional as this was to witness, it must have been ten times more emotional for the pair. They had fought like cats and dogs for most of their lives, but seeing them now, watching them walk side by side, nobody would ever know it. Together they were a harbor of strength, a unit of love and an example of what family was supposed to be. They were crossing the hurdle of a broken family, of a deadbeat father, with their heads held high as though no one was the wiser.
They stopped just below the stairs, where Phin waited with tears in his eyes to fetch his future bride. He shook Tristan’s hand, and they both hugged, exchanging a few words before breaking apart.
The minister stepped forward with a soft smile as he looked from Tristan to Renee. “Who presents this woman to be married to this man?”
Tristan cleared his throat, then clasped his hands together in front of his body. “Her mother and I do.” It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Because those were words which normally came from a father—yet Tristan, barely twenty-five, said them with more pride, more emotion than anyone else ever could.
There was a hush amongst the crowd, as the minister nodded, and Renee climbed the stairs with Phin. Tristan moved to the end of the row of groomsmen, glancing up to the wooden arbor where Renee and Phin would say their vows, and ignored Samantha completely.
Samantha tried to pay attention, to stay present and listen to every word that was spoken, but it was impossible. Because inside, her heart was breaking. Inside, she was struggling to keep herself upright.
Tristan hadn’t even looked at her. Didn’t acknowledge her for the entire service, and all her fears and insecurities came bubbling to the surface. She wanted to scream. To jump up and down, just to get his attention. To have him talk to her, even if the words he said were to tell her it was over, because his silence was unbearable. His silence was like a double-edged sword, slicing through every vulnerable crevice of her body, her mind—her soul.
She somehow made it through the ceremony, a smile on her lips as she walked out toward the gardens. The guests were ushered toward the open bar, while the bridal party was whisked away by the photographer. Samantha was hardly present for any of it. Her body was living, while her mind and heart protected themselves in a proverbial hole. When the wedding party was released from the photographer, everyone headed back toward the waiting reception.
Samantha caught up with Tristan just before he entered the building. She pulled at the hem of his sleeve, forcing him to turn around. His eyes were distant and dark, so different from the man she’d gotten to know over the past week.
“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Why haven’t you called me back? Why are you ignoring me?”
He licked his lips, seeing her, but not really looking. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She stared at him, wanting to shake him out of whatever had taken him, because this was not the man she’d grown to love. “Tristan, I’m sorry.”
His eyes closed, and he gripped the bridge of his nose in an effort to control his emotion. “I thought you broke up with him.”