Page 113 of The Quiet After The Fall

Then he’s there, looking so handsome, but also so unlike himself. His black suit fits him like a glove, his overgrown hair’s styled yet messy. He’s shaved the days worth of growth he’s had recently. It’s his stance that tells the truth. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, his jaw set. He looks like he’s bracing himself for impact, the same way I’ve seen before in hospital hallways, courtrooms, his father’s office.

His eyes find mine before he’s finished turning to face the aisle. It’s quick, just a second, but long enough to knock the air clean out of my lungs.

It’s stupid, how much that one look affects me. I know what’s coming. I helped plan this. And still, some idiot part of me—the same part that wished he would notice me when I was a teenager, that watched him be with other girls for years, that witnessed him propose to someone else—that insecure part of my brain screams at me. He’s leaving you. He’s marrying someone else. He doesn’t love you.

I try to shove it away as the music shifts, but it lingers, settling in my chest and squeezing.

Knox makes his way up the aisle, looking straight ahead, and a few moments later, Ella’s at the edge of the tent, holding her father’s arm. She’s bridal magazine beautiful—hair pulled back in a sleek updo, skin dewy. Her dress is white silk, and she’s dripping in diamonds. Everything about her is radiant, until I notice the smile that’s more like a grimace and the stiffness in her gait.

Still, that feeling in my chest intensifies, tightening until I have to grip the chair in front of me to stay upright.

They’re at the altar now, and Gia opens her folder, speaking words that I can’t fully process. My eyes are on Knox’s profile as he nods, as he repeats things in a monotone voice. I dig my fingers into my thigh and remind myself to breathe.

“Do you take this woman,” Gia says, her eyes flicking to me, “to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Knox says.

Ella says her half back, voice never wavering.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York,” Gia says, with a small twitch at the corner of her mouth, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The applause starts, but it’s polite and contained. No one in this tent actually gives a shit about the happy couple.

Knox kisses her. A peck on the lips, nothing more, but still it feels like a punch to the ribs.

Stop being stupid.

It’s like my body doesn’t know the difference between real and rehearsed. It just knows what it’s looking at, no matter what I tell myself.

I force myself to look away. Focus on something else.

My eyes find Richard on his feet next to Victoria, clapping, a satisfied smile on his face. I remember why we’re doing this, and my pulse settles slightly.

Knox and Ella turn to face the guests, looking like the perfect newlyweds. I swear his eyes find mine all the way back here, silently repeating the words we’ve spoken the past few days.

Almost there. Just hold on.

I stand with everyone else, clap with hands that feel like phantom limbs, and watch the two of them walk back up the aisle as husband and wife, into a marriage that isn’t real, toward an ending none of these guests know is coming.

Please let this work.

Because if it doesn’t, I have no idea what any of us do next.

Chapter 31

Knox

The reception’s in full swing by the time I stop performing for the cameras and start actually looking at the room. I feel like I blacked out during the ceremony, and now the fog is finally lifting.

I look for Sawyer, but I don’t see her in the crowd of people up and moving around. I hope she’s alright. Even knowing what this is and why we’re doing it, I’m sure it’s as hard for her as it is for me. I’ll find her soon.

My father’s living his best life with a drink in his hand and my mother on his arm, working the tent like he’s the center of the universe. Good, I’d rather the attention on him than on me. He wanted this, every over-the-top bit from the string quartet down to the flowers, because an Aldrich wedding that doesn’t look flawless reflects poorly on him. He hasn’t dropped his smug grin since Gia said husband and wife. I can’t wait for his choices to bite him in the ass.

Moretti, on the other hand, is acting more reserved. He’s not smiling at all. Just standing near the edge of the tent with two of his men, watching the room in that unsettling way of his. He got what he wanted, so there’s no reason to make a big show of being happy. This was never about Ella. Not really. This was about him tightening a noose around my neck and getting his piece of the business, with or without my father’s involvement.

I find Ella near the edge of the dance floor, alone for the first time since we said our vows.

“You okay?” I ask, low enough that only she’ll hear.