I wondered if Jason even cared, so long as someone was listening to him.
As I came to stand next to Tom, I put my hand on his shoulder.
Jason cast Tom a sneer, and Tom stepped away from me slightly.
Oh, no you don’t, I thought. I wasn’t about to be deterred by a guy who incorrectly thought he was more interesting than lint. So I waited a minute and then stepped close to Tom again, trying to put my hand in his.
Again, he stepped away.
Tom looked around the room pointedly before he looked back at Jason. I followed his gaze, and it was then that I noticed the other ugly looks coming toward us, from Walker relatives I didn’t know.
Chrissy and Ken seemed unperturbed, but Tom was rattled.
I swallowed my fury and tried to deep-breathe my way through it. But the anger simmered in the pit of my stomach, along with more than a little bit of shame.
When Jason finally left, another Walker relative—an aunt or something, I wasn’t sure—came in to talk to us. She kept giving me a stare like she was deciding how to treat me, and I bristled under the look.
Thankfully, the orchestra was finally done and a real DJ was here to play love songs for couples to slow-dance to. The dance floor was crowded now, and nobody would notice one more couple on it.
It was some old love song playing right now, a slow one. My heart rose with hope. “Dance?” I suggested to Tom lightly.
Again, though, he shook his head, and he wouldn’t even look at me.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to dance right now, I realized. He doesn’t want to dance with me at all.
I gritted my teeth and spun on my heel, heading for the open bar. I needed a minute to contain myself, or I was going to end up saying something that caused a commotion.
When Tom had invited me, he’d said he wanted to be the cool gay dad. That he wanted to learn to dance, and stand up proudly, to be who he was.
And now, under pressure, he was crumbling.
Why do you care what they all think? I wanted to shout at Tom. Just dance with me. It’s not like someone hurts a kitten every time a gay couple kisses. Beth supports you. Get over it and be with me!
Surely there were singles here, but all I saw were happy couples all around, drinking and dancing together.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away and greeted the bartender. I asked for a double vodka-cranberry and turned, only to find Chrissy approaching.
“Refueling?” Chrissy greeted me with a smile, pushing her hair behind her ear.
And my stomach dropped into my feet. I shouldn’t have felt so bad. She was clearly trying to be nice, but she was the only relative here who was. Which made it seem like pity, rather than kindness, in her eyes.
“Yeah. Thank God for open bars, right?” I asked, taking my drink with a nod to the bartender.
“Champagne, please,” she asked him, and then leaned on the counter next to me.
Despite myself, I looked at her again and smiled slightly. She looked lovely in a pale blue dress and gold heels, simple gold earrings, and light makeup. Her hair was long, curled at the ends and draped around her face.
She looked at home here, even among all these strangers. And I just wanted to run home and cry.
“I’m so happy to meet the new Mr. Wright,” Chrissy said, and she gave me a genuine smile that only crumbled me into dust.
Did he ever hide your love? I wanted to ask. Did he put you on a shelf because someone around him didn’t want to see it?
I just smiled and said nothing, my chest so tight I might burst at any moment.
Chrissy hesitated, but then she put a hand on my arm. “I wanted you to know that I’m really happy for you two. Tom’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. And you clearly make him happy.”
Fuck, I couldn’t stop my big mouth. “Do I?” Shit. Can’t take that back now, I thought, my cheeks flushing. So I plunged ahead. “Cause whenever any of them so much as look at him, he seems to pretend we’re not together.”
Chrissy winced. So she’d noticed, too.
Great. That meant everyone else had, too. They were probably all laughing about how awkward we were together. How out of my league he was, or how scandalous this was.
I never should have come.
Chrissy being here made it worse: she was so gorgeous and put-together, the kind of woman that Tom could have on his arm at any office party or wedding. And nobody would look twice at them.
Heat flooded my eyes. It wasn’t fair! None of this was fair. Tom shouldn’t be accepting second-best, hiding parts of himself to try to make things smoother when these people would hate him whether or not I were there.
All he was doing was driving me away, and I was done.
I’d had enough.
Tears flooded my eyes, blurring my vision as I excused myself in a mumble and rushed off. But instead of making for the bathroom, I headed for the door, trying desperately to hold back the hot droplets. My efforts were to no avail. They trailed down my cheeks by the time I reached the relative cool and quiet of the parking lot.
I jabbed furiously at my phone, grateful that the nearest Uber was just two minutes away, and held back my sobs for the whole drive home.
My phone chimed, and I cursed at it in the quiet backseat of the car.
I didn’t want to talk to Tom—or anyone. I wanted to be left alone. Just like I had been all night long.
Chapter Fourteen
I want everything to be perfect.
Tom, day 6
Chrissy’s warning came too late. By the time I’d excused myself and rushed to the parking lot, I saw the rear lights of the Uber pulling onto the street.
I cursed under my breath and paced back and forth, shame and anger rising in my chest. It was a hot, heavy prickle, and I hated the way it sat in my gut.
I knew what look she was going to give me as soon as I went back inside, and I’d earned it. I’d been a dick to Rusty tonight.
My nerves had gotten the best of me. I’d tried so hard to maintain my confidence, but then the moment had arrived. We’d walked through the door together and Jason had sneered, looking on as I announced Rusty as my plus-one to the person taking names at the door.
One chip at a time, my confidence had cracked all too soon, and I’d folded in on myself. The whole time I’d known what I was doing, and I’d just stifled the guilt and promised myself I’d apologize later.
First thing was first: I had to text Rusty. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and composed a quick message.
TOM: I’m sorry about tonight, Rusty. Can we talk?
Although I waited, a response never came. And, more alarming still, I recognized the muffled sob from behind me as high heels clicked along the sidewalk that wrapped around the ballroom.
I turned in time to see Beth storming toward the door to the bridal and groom suites. As if my heart wasn’t already in my throat. “Beth?” I called out, hurrying to intercept her.
“Daddy,” Beth breathed out, tears shining in her eyes as she threw her arms around my neck just like she was seven and had skinned a knee at the playground again.
I held her tight, wishing it was as simple as kissing her scratched knee better, blowing on it, and telling her to make a wish. Nothing that easy would fix this situation. “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked, even though I knew.