She shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks with the relief of finally getting through to him. “I couldn’t just—”
But he cut her off. “Why was he here? Why was he holding you in his fucking arms?” His words were quiet, but were spit from his mouth with all the venom she deserved.
She looked into his eyes, seeing all the hurt and hatred that lived there. Guests were walking by, looking her up and down as they entered the reception room, and all she could do was tell the truth. “We’d been together for six years, I couldn’t—”
But he didn’t listen. “That’s what I thought.” He turned on his heels, not allowing her to finish, and entered the reception room.
She stumbled forward, left in the doorway with her heart in her throat as she watched him walk away. There were people all around her, laughing, smiling, and celebrating—while she struggled to keep herself upright. She walked into the ballroom dressed in a beautiful gown, her hair done up like a princess, yet feeling more alone and undesired than she’d ever felt in her entire life. Needing some sense of solitude, she shuffled through the crowd and pushed through the door to the restroom. She plucked a box of tissues from the closest table then sat down on the toilet and started to cry.
She knew she’d messed up, knew he was right to be angry, but he wouldn’t even listen to her. He wouldn’t even allow her to finish a sentence.
The door to the restroom opened again, and she held her breath, not wanting anyone to hear her crying. The last thing she needed was to cause a big scene at her best friend’s wedding. She heard the stall door close beside her, then a moment later Renee’s head was poking over the stall door by the ceiling.
“Hi,” Renee whispered.
Samantha half sobbed, half laughed at the sight of her best friend. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her chin wobbling. “You’re supposed to be taking pictures.”
Renee shook her head. “We already took plenty. But I can’t go on, knowing you’re in here dying inside.”
Samantha closed her eyes, hating the fact she’d done this to her best friend. That Renee was in the bathroom offering her comfort when she should be out there with her new husband.
“I locked the door. Will you come out and talk to me?” Renee pleaded.
Samantha immediately nodded, knowing it was the least she could do. She crumpled up her soggy tissue, threw it in the trash, and unlocked her stall.
Renee was sitting on a chaise lounge, fiddling with her dress, but glanced up when she saw Samantha. She patted the spot beside her on the cushion. “Sit.”
Samantha did as she was told, grabbing hold of Renee’s offered hands.
The emotion of the day was etched all over Renee’s face. Emotion about her father, her brother, the wedding. “Remember when I left to go visit Tristan a few years ago?” She began. “When you were in that awful English class and had the midterm load from hell?”
Samantha nodded, but her throat tightened uncomfortably because she knew what this was about. Renee was going to tell her about the accident, about Tristan’s shoulder. Samantha had heard the story only days before, but for some reason she remained quiet. She’d heard it from Tristan, but now she wanted to hear it from Renee.
“Tristan was in a bad accident. He had a concussion, his rotator cuff was torn, bone ripped from its socket…among other things. He was a mess. He underwent emergency surgery to repair what they could, but he was told right away he’d never play ball again. As you can imagine, football was his life, his identity, and I can still remember the look on his face when he was given the news.”
Renee’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she looked at Samantha. “But what I remember most, was that he immediately looked to my father. Tristan idolized him, always had, and when he saw the disappointment in my father’s eyes, it crushed him. And instead of being a support to his son, my father lectured him. It hurt Tristan more than his injury, more than the loss of his favorite sport…”
She turned to the box of tissues and plucked one from the box, her voice shredding. “Tristan argued with the doctors for over an hour after that, trying to convince them to do more, to give him another chance, but they couldn’t.” Renee’s eyes bored into Samantha’s, needing her to understand. “Tristan hates letting people down. He can’t handle not being enough. As hard as this whole thing has been for me—it’s been harder for my brother. Because the man he’d always tried to prove himself to has shown that maybe he’s not the person to look up to.”
She wiped at the corner of her eyes as though trying not to ruin her makeup. “Tristan carries the world on his shoulders. He always has. It was unfair of my mom to give him that secret. To make it his responsibility to handle the communication with my father… But like always, Tristan took on the role of making everyone else happy. When my father didn’t even show up...” She cleared her throat, trying to continue. “I think Tristan feels both like a failure, and rejected at the same time.”
She sniffed softly into her tissue and looked down to their joined hands. “I think seeing you with Steven was the last thing he could take. All his insecurities, all his fears came rushing out―”
Samantha plucked a tissue from the box and blew her nose. “Steven didn’t know what happened. I had to—”
But Renee stopped her. “I know you did. And Tristan will understand, too, when you explain.”
“But he―”
Renee gave Samantha’s shoulder a squeeze. “Listen to me. When I saw Tristan walk into the lobby that first day with you, I was relieved. Because I hadn’t seen him smile like that in years. I didn’t know what had changed in him, but I realize now―it was you. You brought something out in him, Samantha. Something I haven’t seen since before he was injured.”
Samantha frowned, trying to comprehend what her friend was trying to tell her.
“He’s pushing you away, can’t you see that? He’s pushing us all away.”
Samantha shook her head, feeling a thousand bricks land on her shoulders. “What do you want me to do? He won’t look at me; he won’t even talk to me,” she said, her voice choked with emotion.
“Then make him listen. He may take his time to hear you, but he always does.” Tears spilled from Samantha’s eyes, and Renee grabbed another tissue and continued to talk while she attempted to salvage her friend’s makeup. “I don’t know if Tristan has ever felt loved. Really loved, aside from me and my mother… But he needs more than us. He’s been loved for his looks, loved for his body and what he can do with it, loved for so many other things, but I think it’s hard for him to see that it can be unconditional. That he can be himself and still have value. That people aren’t perfect, and that doesn’t mean love ends.”
Renee rose to her feet, smoothing the silk of her skirt down her legs. “He’s pushing you away on purpose. And if you really love him, Sam, you won’t let him do it.”