A horn trumpeted. A cinematic touch to let everyone know it was time to head to the tables. Jessica cleared her throat. “Finally. Let’s go.” She turned to take her seat and Gabby scurried after her.
Dad made his way over in his tux, holding a whiskey, and Mom finished up her chat and joined us at the bottom of the steps. “Neil’s getting you a glass of wine,” Dad said, nodding at the line at the bar.
People were beginning to sit down, but Mom and Dad didn’t move.
Mom probably wanted to be there to greet any stragglers, and Dad was either waiting on Neil or wanting to keep his imposing position over the room. Either way, it was a problem.
I wanted to get my purse and check my phone. But I was too afraid Daniel would show up and walk right into my parents without me there. So I stayed where I was too, chewing on my lip and nervously glancing at the top of the steps.
Every second that ticked by without Daniel arriving, I got more anxious. The gala started at five-thirty. He was over an hour late.
I began to get the sinking feeling that he wasn’t coming.
I knew he missed me. I knew he still loved me. I could feel it when I was on the phone with him that night.
But that didn’t mean he was going to forgive me.
A photo montage of the last hundred and twenty-five years of hospital history began to play as servers placed salads in front of guests. I would take the stage right after.
Dad took a swallow of his drink. “I trust your speech is ready,” he said to me, his voice low. “This is a historic event. I hope you’re adequately prepared.”
I had to let a slow, calming breath out through my nose.
It was funny how these casual, careless jabs were so obvious to me now. I was so used to them growing up, I didn’t even notice them. They were the building blocks of everything I’d accepted from Neil.
Instead of giving me words of encouragement before I stood in front of five hundred people, Dad chose to remind me just how little confidence he had in me. He wanted me to know that he assumed I didn’t understand the significance of this gala and hadn’t bothered to get ready for it. But mostly it annoyed me because it was a slight to Mom.
She’d been the one to coach and prepare me for this over the last few months, and he clearly didn’t believe that Mom, who had been a professional public speaker for the last forty years, had done her due diligence before releasing me into the wild at arguably the most important Royaume event of her lifetime. It was insulting. And Mom ignored the implication, as usual, because she never chose to fight. For herself or me. But that was fine. Because for the first time in my life, I was ready to fight for myself.
I was prepared to give my speech. Though the one I was about to deliver wasn’t the one we’d practiced. My parents had no idea what was about to happen. I’d asked the board to keep our discussion private, and they’d agreed.
Tonight would be full of surprises.
Black-and-white photos of the hospital’s construction flickered across the jumbotrons. Then color photos. 1950s. 1960s. My family, featured in almost every single slide. We were at the mid 2000s in the montage when Neil started to make his way from the bar with my glass of wine. Dad leaned over. “Neil tells me you two had an encouraging discussion.”
“It’s good to hear the therapy’s helping,” I said dismissively, looking back to the top of the stairs.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” he said, going on. “To think you could have been here with that boy.” He chuckled into his glass.
I snapped.
My head whipped so fast I almost lost my tiara. “Don’t you ever talk about Daniel like that in my presence ever again. Him or Nikki.”
Mom’s jaw dropped, and Dad lowered his glass and pinned me with a warning glare. “You be mindful of your tone, young lady,” he said, his voice low.
I straightened my shoulders. “No.”
Mom shifted uncomfortably. “Dear, I think they’re about to call you up,” she said quietly, putting a hand on my arm. “Maybe you should go stand by the stage. I’ll make sure your drink makes it to the table—”
“I’m not sitting with you,” I said sharply.
Mom blinked at me. “You’re not sitting with us? Why not?”
“I bought new seats.”
“You’re not sitting with Neil?” Dad asked, looking confused.
“No, I am not. I’ve invited Daniel, and if I’m lucky he might actually show up, so I can beg him for forgiveness for the way I let you treat him.”