Page 47 of Words Unspoken

“You need anything, you let me know,” Dillon admonished him.

Michael made the same hand motion back that Dillon had just made, knowing that Dillon would understand that he reciprocated the gesture. Dillon nodded and the two of them headed back to the room that had been set up for the wedding. He helped to seat the last few people. He was surprised to see his mother enter alone. Michael had not expected her to defy his father. She spotted him and smiled. He went forward to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Noah told me,” tutted Rachel. She looked tanned from the cruise. She patted his cheek affectionately and blinked back tears. “If you need anything… I know you cannot tell me, but let me know?”

He nodded.

She took his arm. “Of course, your father would not come. David is still not able to forgive Maxwell. I, however, was not going to miss this.”

Michael slowly escorted her to the front. She was seventy-five years young now and while she had kept herself up very well, Michael could feel a frailty starting to set in. He laid a hand over hers and assisted her to sit, giving her a program.

Then it was time.

The bridesmaids were lovely. The bride was beautiful. Max was obviously the happiest man in the room. Vows were made, rings were exchanged.

All the while, Michael tried not to look at Ann. If he could have married anyone, it would have been her. He supposed he would stay a bachelor forever.

Michael was surprised that she had come to the wedding. He knew Max had invited her but to go and see him be wed when she was in love with him. Unless Michael had misunderstood? Michael supposed he could have. Then who was she in love with?

It was not him, that was for certain. Michael waited his turn then escorted Tiffany, Piaget’s sister down the aisle. He didn’t much like her. She was beautiful, yet she was also critical and vain. He suffered her in silence as he escorted her to the lawn. Pictures would be taken while the guests were entertained with cocktails. Then the reception would take place. Michael wished today was over already. He was happy for the couple. He wished them all the best. But he felt just a little off.

It seemed like pictures took forever. Finally, they ended, and the group headed inside. There was dinner, speeches, and cake cutting. Michael watched it all, feeling like more of an observer than a participant. He wondered if he should take some pain medication, but he didn’t really feel like he had a headache. Michael ignored his head and watched the dancing until Elle made him go on the floor with her.

Elle chatted amicably about how nervous Piaget was before the ceremony and how she had felt at her own wedding to Noah. He nodded at appropriate moments. She seemed very happy. She also looked very nice as a bridesmaid. At the end of the song, he returned Elle to Noah. He didn’t feel dizzy exactly. Just not right.

Piaget commandeered him next. Michael treated her with all due respect of the bride she was and listened to her happy burbling about the wedding, how she loved his brother Max, her thanks of him being a groomsman, how she adored their mother. Instinctively, he knew his mother would adore Piaget as well. He was glad. It was too bad about his father. Well, it was David’s loss, not the other way around.

Unfortunately, after their dance, Piaget paired him with Tiffany. Fortunately, Tiffany didn’t seem to want to speak. That was good. He did not want to speak either. At least, that was what he told himself. It was easier pretending he had any control in the matter.

Then there was Dix. She was Piaget’s maid of honor. Once again, he listened as a woman complimented the bride, the venue, his brother, the meal and whatever else she could think of.

After, he gently danced with his mother. She told him how much she adored Piaget and he had to smile at that. Then using a mother is intuition, she asked him what was wrong, and Michael shook his head, suddenly tired. He gave her another smile and escorted her to Max. Max would make her forget that she had seen him unhappy in any way. Max was great at charming and distracting people.

When he turned around there was Ann.

She gave him a shy smile. “Care to dance?”

He swallowed and held out a hand. Michael could not refuse her. He didn’t want to. Michael escorted her to the dance floor and as she put her hand on his shoulder and her left hand in his, he noticed the ring. It was huge. He felt like someone had hit him in the abdomen with a baseball bat. No, the entire world had tilted like a bomb had gone off. She was engaged. He ran a thumb over it.

“Yes, George asked a couple of weeks ago,” she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

What could he say? Michael wanted to know why she would be with a man who didn’t make her happy. Then again, she said Michael didn’t make her happy so what right had he to judge?

Instead, he just held her close, and they danced to the music, not speaking any further. This felt like the final goodbye. Michael was grateful. He was grateful for all the years he had known her. He was grateful for the time he had with her. He hoped she would find her happiness somehow. He tried to memorize the moment.

Then the music ended all too soon and Michael released her. George was waiting impatiently. They were introduced and Michael nodded to the other man’s greetings. George possessively threaded Ann’s arm through his. Michael disliked him greatly and excused himself as soon as he could. If he was abrupt, it was because he could not stand to stay there any longer and pretend to be happy for Ann.

Wanting to escape he headed to the terrace. Michael breathed in the cool night air and looked over the impressive landscaping. He wanted to be home where he could lay in the chair with FedEx and ignore that the world had turned itself upside down. His feelings felt raw, like they had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champion and come out the loser.

Ann engaged. Ann married to that odious man. Ann having little Stapleton children. Michael felt like cursing a blue streak, throwing something. Instead, he stood and concentrated on breathing.

“Michael?”

Elle had come out. Probably to check on him. He wished she would not. He didn’t feel good. He wanted to be left alone.

“Michael, are you okay?” Elle asked, laying a hand on his arm, obviously concerned.

No, he was not okay.