揑 avoided you before then too.?
揥ell, it ends now, wife.?
I feel her back tense through the thin fabric of her wedding dress. 揂nd you thought our first dance would be the most appropriate venue??
揑 figured there was a higher chance you wouldn抰 walk away during the conversation, yes.?
揑抦 not a coward,?Scarlett states.
揑 never called you one.?
Her chin rises to a defiant tilt. 揟here抯 nothing to discuss, Crew. I said I抎 marry you, and I just did. That抯 the extent of us.?
揟he start of us.?
揟he extent,?she reiterates.
揑 assume you want separate bedrooms??
She holds my gaze. 揑 have a chef and a maid. One of them will show you to your room when you get to my place tonight.?
揝ex??
揃e discreet.?
揥ith you, Scarlett.?
Her throat bobs as she swallows. 揑 don抰 know yet. Maybe sometimes.?
Maybe sometimes? I shake my head. 揧ou don抰 want anything from me.?
It抯 not a question. She answers anyway. 揑 don抰 want anything from you.?
揙kay.?
揙kay,?she echoes. 揥e don抰 need to pretend.?
揑抦 not pretending.?
Those three words linger between us.
The rest of our dance is silent. When it ends, we both move on to our other obligations. Scarlett begins dancing with her father, while I twirl Candace.
It抯 been years since I wished my mother was alive so viscerally. But this day? This moment? It抯 one I wish she were here for. From what little I remember and have heard about Elizabeth Kensington, she was sweet and calm. She softened my father抯 rough edges, which have only sharpened over time. Today would have been romantic, in her eyes. Rather than Candace抯 endless babbling about the dinner and the cake and the flowers, I imagine she抎 ask me if I feel different, as a married man. Lecture me on how to treat Scarlett. Maybe she would have talked my father out of the agreement to begin with. I抣l never know.
After the song ends, I ask Josephine Ellsworth. I catch Scarlett抯 surprised look as we walk onto the dance floor, like the thought of me dancing with her mother never occurred to her.
揧ou outdid yourself, Mrs. Ellsworth,?I compliment as we spin. 揈verything was perfect.?
Unlike her daughter, Josephine is modest and demure. Pink tinges her cheeks before she glances away at the sea of elaborately decorated tables surrounding us. 揅all me Josephine. And it was my pleasure, truly. I抦 glad you appreciated it.?
I half-smile at the emphasis, under no delusions about who Josephine is referring to. I also correct my earlier assumption. She has more fire than she lets on. 揑抳e gathered Scarlett isn抰 the sort to accept decisions she didn抰 make.?
揝carlett doesn抰 do anything she doesn抰 want to, either.?
I feel my brow wrinkle with confusion.
Josephine smiles, and there抯 an almost daring edge to it. 揇on抰 let my daughter convince you she had no choice in this matter.?
揙f course she had a choice. Scarlett would have been stupid not to accept this, though. And she抯 not.?
揝he抯 not,?Josephine agrees. 揃ut she抯 smart enough to know her options. She doesn抰 need you for anything, Crew.?
I muffle the smile that wants to appear in response to her earnest expression. This is remarkably similar to the conversation I just had with Scarlett herself. 揝he may not need anything from me, but she抯 getting plenty.?
揧es, she is.?
I wait, but that抯 all she says until the song ends a minute later. 揟hank you for the dance, Crew. Scarlett chose well. And she did梒hoose. No matter how she acts. Indifference is a means of survival in this world. I imagine you know that as well as anyone.?
With those parting words, she disappears into the crowd. I head for the bar, craving a moment of solitude and a stiff drink. Today has felt endless. Every minute meticulously planned from the moment I woke up.
I order a whiskey from the bartender and lean against the counter serving as a makeshift bar. I stay in place once he hands it to me, sipping the amber liquid and surveying my surroundings.
換uite the event, Mr. Kensington.?
I glance to my left and almost choke. The liquor slides down my esophagus with a stinging stab, rather than the usual pleasant burn. 揗r. Raymond. How nice to see you, sir.?
揧ou can call me Royce,?he replies, adopting a similar pose beside me as he orders a drink. I hide my surprise. Royce Raymond is a media mogul, whose production company consistently churns out blockbuster hits. There抯 not an actor in Hollywood who doesn抰 want to work with him. He抯 famous for his hands on approach to everything. Supposedly, not even a PA gets hired on one of his sets without his say so. He抯 just as well known for his antisocial tendencies, which include snubbing many of the coveted invitations he receives. I抦 shocked he抯 here.