Page 79 of The Wedding Favor

I heard him huff. “That’s a pretty deep question for five in the morning.” He paused for so long, I thought he might have changed his mind. When he did speak, his voice was so soft that I inched closer to hear him. “I guess it’s that my dad and I won’t ever be able to talk to each other, that he’ll always be looking for me to disappoint him and that no matter how hard I try, I’m never going to measure up.”

The sadness in his voice tugged at my heart. “You do measure up. You have to know that.”

“I guess just once I’d like to hear my dad say that.” He cleared his throat. “Your turn.”

I thought about lying again. But something about the dark, quiet room where only Abe could hear me caused my mouth to open.

“I don’t want to be alone but I’m scared to… to give a part of me away. It hurts too much when they leave.” I yawned, feeling the exhaustion start to pull me under. My eyes closed. My words were more mumble than anything else. “I just want someone to love me enough to stay.”

Abe made a small sound, an acknowledgment, I guess. The bed shifted as he turned on his side. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the curtains, hardly bright enough to be called light. The beam fell across Abe’s face so that I could barely make out his features but it was a comfort to know he was there.

A featherlight touch skimmed my cheek and brushed my hair from my face. His hand found my shoulder and trailed lightly down my arm to stop at my hand resting on the bed between us. He curled his fingers around it and held on. He didn’t let go and I didn’t want him to.

As the blurry edges of sleep pulled me under, I swore I heard him say, “You aren’t alone. I’m right here.”

THIRTY

“The only people worth keeping around were the ones who were always on my side. Not to say they always agreed with me, but they never walked away from me.”

—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,

Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes

The pounding woke me.

I reached blindly for my phone and groaned when I saw it wasn’t even eight. It took me a minute to remember where I was and why someone was playing a drum solo in my head. Alas, it all came rushing back like the nightmare it was:

The hotel room.

The wedding reception.

The bar.

The police.

And Abe…

Whipping my head around (and regretting it immediately), I discovered the other side of the bed was empty, but the pillow held a depression where his head had been. That part hadn’t been a nightmare at all. Except I’d been so… so vulnerable with him. I’d told him things I’d never even said aloud.

“Iris!” The pounding started again, louder and not in my head this time. “Answer the door.”

I knew that voice. Aidan. Just thinking his name made a whole lot more about last night come tumbling back. Maybe if I were quiet, he’d think I wasn’t here and go away.

“I know you’re in there.”

Or not. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the door. Without opening it, I said, “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Just hear me out. I want to apologize.”

“No.”

Silence.

I was not opening that door. No, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear his name or voice or his apology. After this wedding, I didn’t want to talk to him for a long time, maybe never again.