Chapter 12 - The Truth in the Road
The road went silent except for cicadas and the soft hum of idling cars.
Owen stood between Brielle and nearly two hundred guests.
“I believed we had permission,” he continued. “I was wrong. Delaney said no. Documents were submitted in her name without her authorization.”
My mother hissed, “Owen, not here.”
He looked at her.
“Yes. Here.”
Brielle’s face had gone white beneath her makeup.
“You’re destroying me.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m stopping this.”
She crossed the distance between them.
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
The answer surprised everyone, including Brielle.
Owen’s voice shook.
“That’s why this hurts. Loving you does not mean pretending this is okay.”
She grabbed his lapels.
“We can talk after the ceremony.”
“There is no ceremony.”
She looked toward the gate, then toward the guests, then at our parents.
For a second, she looked like a child searching a room for the adult most likely to rescue her.
Mom stepped forward.
I knew exactly what was coming.
“Delaney,” she whispered, “please.”
I shook my head.
Brielle saw it.
Her fear turned instantly into rage.
“You’ve always hated me.”
“No.”
“You hated that Mom and Dad loved me.”
“No.”
“You hated that I was getting married first.”
“No.”
Her voice rose. “Then why are you doing this?”
Because for once, everyone was looking at me and waiting for an explanation that would make my boundary easier for them to accept.
I did not give them one.
“Because I said no.”
That was it.
Not because of money.
Not because of jealousy.
Not because of my future wedding dream.
Because I said no.
Owen closed his eyes briefly.
My father looked down.
Aunt Cynthia started crying.
Brielle laughed, sharp and broken.
“You win.”
“This is not a game.”
“It always is with you.”
She threw her bouquet onto the road.
White roses scattered across the asphalt.
Then she turned and walked toward the SUV.
My mother ran after her.
Dad stayed.
Owen stayed.
The guests remained frozen.
Heather took over with the calm voice of someone who had spent her career solving impossible social disasters.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are arranging refreshments at the Harbor House Hotel. Please check your phones for updated information.”
People slowly began moving.
An hour later, the road was almost clear.
I thought the worst was over.
Then Rachel called.
“Delaney, check your email.”
I opened it.
The subject line came from Brielle’s attorney.
May you like
NOTICE OF CLAIM.
My sister was threatening to sue me for the cost of the cancelled wedding.
