Chapter Text
She sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for the excitement to hit her. A white dress, a full face of makeup, her hair curled in perfect waves, and a gorgeous bouquet laid across her lap. She had everything she thought would fill the yearning inside of her. But when she watched the minutes click past on the clock, Rose could only wonder why that sinking feeling in her stomach was there.
She loved Nate. Truly, she loved him. And she loved the idea of him, too. The concept of a happy, stable home made Rose’s heart flutter, and he was the only man to ever offer that to her. When he came into her life, she had already accepted that a life-partner was never in the cards for her. But he taught her what it meant to stick around for someone, and he had never failed at that.
Which is why the sinking feeling is so damn unwarranted. Rose had never worried about whether or not Nate would be alive when he came home from work. She knew that, if she needed him, he would be there. And he was kind. And handsome. And gentle.
She felt safe with him. She trusted him with everything she had in her, which is more than she could say about the men from her past. So Rose squeezed her eyes shut and replayed every moment from the past two years that made her fall for him.
On their first date when he showed up with a bouquet of roses. On their second date when he absentmindedly tossed his jacket over her shoulders when the wind picked up. Their six-month anniversary dinner, when he tipped the waiter with a smile after she had clearly been struggling her way through her shift. Her first time meeting his parents, when she realized that he had learned his graciousness from his mother. When Rose’s cat died suddenly, and instead of pushing it off as a minor sadness, he called off of work to stay with her as she cried.
Rose’s eyes opened slowly, a small smile painted across her face. She sighed, then turned to the shining mirror beside her. She loved him.
“Rose, we need to get your…” her cousin trailed off behind her as she swung the door open. Rose spun around to face her bridesmaid, who melted at the sight of her.
“Oh my God. Rose, you are an angel,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. Rose grinned, reaching her hand out for Mia to take.
“I feel like one,” she joked.
“No, I’m serious. Nate’s head is going to explode when he sees you like this.”
Rose swallowed as the sinking feeling returned. She shook her head lightly, trying to shove that feeling down. Unfortunately, Mia was always a psycho-analytic wizard, and Rose could feel her mind being read.
“You’re getting the jitters, aren’t you?”
Rose’s mouth pressed into a line as she glanced down to her hands. Mia squeezed Rose’s finger, which pulled her attention back up.
“It’s stupid,” she whispered.
“It is not stupid, and it is so normal. I had them before my wedding, too.”
“What did you do?”
“I freaked out about it until I saw him at the end of the aisle. It’s like all anxiety ceased to exist when he looked at me. You’re just nervous about the unknown in the future. You’re not doubting that he’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. It’s normal.”
Rose nodded, trying to avoid eye contact. She spun around on her chair, turning back to face the mirror. She made eye contact with Mia in the mirror.
“Unless, you are doubting that he’s the one,” Mia said slowly, as if trying not to spook Rose. A chill ran down Rose’s spine as the sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Gosh, this is so screwed up.
“I’m not. I’m not,” Rose muttered.
Mia swallowed hard and bit her bottom lip.
“So, this has nothing to do with the guy that is sitting in the back row next to the exit, right?”
“What?”
“Peter.”
Rose’s head felt like it was floating away from her. And at the same time, she became acutely aware of the breakfast that was rapidly inching up her throat. On instinct, Rose dropped her head into the waste basket beneath her vanity and vomited out everything she had in her. She felt Mia’s hand on her back as tears streamed down her cheeks. When she felt that the threat of more vomit had passed, she lifted her face to see the damage she had done to her makeup. Mia quickly spun the chair around so that Rose couldn’t see herself, and she reached around her to offer Rose a water bottle.
“Okay, okay. This is fine,” Mia whispered as her eyes darted around Rose’s face.
“Oh, God. My makeup is ruined, isn’t it?”
“No, no. I just need to…I just need some time. I’ll fix this. Don’t you worry,” Mia said with a smile.
And for the next five minutes, Mia went to work on covering the tear stains on Rose’s cheeks and reapplying her mascara. After minute five, Mia broke the silence.
“If I knew that mentioning his name would cause such a visceral reaction, I would have never done it.”
Rose grinned, softly chuckling.
“Yeah, I didn’t see that coming either.”
“Why is he here?” Mia asked as she dabbed concealer under Rose’s eyes.
“I invited him,” Rose confessed. She felt the brush still on her face then resumed working seconds later.
“You thought that was a good idea?”
“Mia, he’s my friend. And I owe him my life,” Rose spat out. Mia's head shook as her eyes rolled dramatically.
“He’s not your friend. He’s an ass. You haven’t even spoken to him since—“
“Stop. I don’t want to get into that. Not today,” Rose interrupted. Rose sighed as her eyes squeezed shut. She leaned back on her chair and felt the air around her start to thicken. She couldn’t think about that now. The last time she saw Peter.
“If you have unresolved feelings for Peter…” Mia trailed off.
“My feelings for Peter are very resolved, okay? Him and I are…we don’t work. I wouldn’t have invited him if I thought there was a chance with us,” Rose said, hushed. Mia’s eyes flickered back and forth across Rose’s face.
“If you thought there was a chance with you and Peter, would this wedding still be happening?”
A moment of silence passed. A touch too long of a moment. Mia sighed sharply in disapproval.
“Yes. Even if I could have Peter, I would choose Nate.”
Rose’s eyes stared through Mia’s, waiting for her nod of approval. And when it came, Rose sharply inhaled.
And when Mia left, the pit in Rose’s stomach returned. But this time, it felt different. She couldn’t deny the fear that overtook her mind–a lingering grain of doubt still planted in her mind about Nate. She didn’t know if that doubt was at all connected to Peter, but she didn’t have time to figure it out. And when the time came for Rose to move to the church atrium–she knew she’d be there. Because whether or not she loved Peter, she knew she loved Nate. And that was okay, she thought. To love them both.
—----------------------------------------
He heard the pounding of Arrington’s fist on the door behind him and an accompanying “Peter!” He tried to ignore her shouts, but when he swung the bathroom door open, he saw a flustered Chelsea with her eyebrows furrowed and her hands thrown in the air.
“What the hell, Peter? You’re gonna make us late,” she exclaimed. Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist, then he grabbed Chelsea by the shoulder and pulled her into the bathroom with him.
“We’re already late,” he spat out, sighing.
“What is going on?”
Peter ran a hand over his face before turning to face her. He exhaled and shook his head.
“I’m freaking out.”
“No shit.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, Peter, so am I. You’ve been freaking out since we got here.”
He turned to look over himself in the mirror. She was right–he looked a mess. He overthought everything about his appearance before he came. His suit, his hair, his shoes. Everything was entirely stressed about, and yet, it still wasn’t enough.
When he turned back to Chelsea, her arms were crossed across her chest, and her lips were pressed into a straight line.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Obviously not. Why am I even here?” he complained.
“Because you were invited, and you RSVP’d, and you drove here. But you’re going to miss the most important part if you don’t leave this bathroom,” Chelsea spat out. Peter hadn’t known that she would become such a close friend of his. But when shit hit the fan with Rose and he found himself alone, Chelsea was the only person he knew he could trust without a second thought. It does come back to bite him, though, when she calls him out in the cold tone she’s perfected.
“Look, with the way we left things, I just can’t wrap my head around why she’d want me here.”
“That’s something you should have thought about before you came all this way.”
Rose’s damn wedding. When he got the invite months ago, he stared at it for hours, waiting for the words to change. But they never did. And the time he had spent missing her and dreaming about her seemed like time wasted. Over a woman who wanted to marry someone else.
He didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know why she wanted him—if—she wanted him here. The entire situation was completely confusing, and up until his flight two days ago, he still wasn’t sure if he’d come.
“Peter,” Chelsea said, her voice softer than before, “what are you so afraid of? What do you think is going to happen?”
He took a moment, trying to collect the thousands of thoughts that circled in his mind.
“I’m scared of seeing her. And her seeing me.”
Chelsea’s eyes squeezed shut while she let out a sharp exhale.
“Whatever the hell happened between you two is really none of my business, and it’s something I don’t care to know about. But what I do know about, is weddings. And I know that brides never see every guest at their own wedding. You won’t be able to avoid seeing her, obviously, but if you really don’t want her to know you’re here, that shouldn’t be hard at all.”
He didn’t want to listen to her, frankly, because that meant leaving the room and facing the woman he’s been trying to forget. And even more, seeing her in a wedding dress for another man. But he thought back to the last time he had seen Rose. Her eyes red and full of tears. Her hands shaking and desperately trying to get him to stay. And the door that he slammed behind him, pushing her out of his life for good. That night has haunted him for the past two years, and all he’s done since then is wish that it never happened.
So maybe it’ll be good—healing—to see her like that. Happy, glowing. On the best day of her life. Even if that happiness was because of another guy.
So he swallowed hard and nodded, letting Chelsea lead them to the atrium where the ceremony was being held. They, of course, sat in the back corner, nearest to the exit. After a few minutes, Chelsea sighed and rolled up her dress sleeve.
“Weird,” she whispered beside him, glancing down at her watch.
“What?”
“Nothing, just, it was supposed to start twenty minutes ago.”
“Is that normal?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
She shook her head, staring straight ahead of her, as if she was seeing something that he wasn’t. He turned to match her eyeline, and he saw an empty altar. No minister, no groom, nothing. Peter didn’t know much about weddings, but he knew that they were supposed to be up there by now.
He glanced around the room and saw the expressions of those in the seats—confused, frustrated, and concerned—and he felt a pit in his stomach that he only ever feels when something is wrong with Rose. The same pit he felt during this first phone call, he felt at her wedding. He quickly spotted a bridesmaid from the back of the room, pacing back and forth. And without hesitation, Peter made a beeline for her.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he whispered, reaching out his hand to tap on the woman’s shoulder. She turned abruptly, and Peter could see sweat spread across her forehead.
“Who are you?” she asked, almost out of breath.
“I’m a friend of Rose’s. Is everything okay?”
He felt a moment of hesitation in her, like she was debating on whether or not she could trust him.
“Everything is…” she trailed off, looking out into the crowd of people. She bit her lips and Peter could see tears start to well in her eyes. She inhaled sharply before turning her face to look back at him. “Everything is not okay.”
“What do you mean? Is Rose okay?”
“Rose is fine. She’s just…” she trailed again.
“What?” he asked, the desperation in his tone was loud.
And then she spoke.
“The wedding. It’s off.”