Page 81 of A Storybook Wedding

“Shh, Dad,” I say, because his yelling is causing an echo to bounce off the walls in the cavernous space, and several guests have just turned to look my way. I smile and wave at them weakly in an attempt to show them everything’s just fine. Nothing to see here, folks.

“Don’t you dare shush me, young lady!” he hollers. “Your mother is devastated. How could you marry someone and not tell us?”

My heart stops, and the moment plays out in slow motion. I look up at Nate, who is now just steps shy of being at my side. He looks at me, horrified. My eyes pop out of my head like a cartoon character, and a faculty lineup that includes Dillon Norway and Alice Devereaux walks through the entryway into the corridor at that exact moment, turning their heads to see what the ruckus is all about. Then, before I can even think to hang up the call, my mother grabs the phone back from my father and screeches, “We heard all about it on the livestream, Cecily. You married someone without even telling us, and then you went on to start a smear campaign against your sister and Bryce! My God, Cecily! What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I, um—” I stammer, but nothing else comes out, because all I see is Dillon Norway’s eyebrows knit into one, punctuated by a deep crease between his eyes that looks like a stab wound. Beside him, Alice Devereaux’s face does the exact opposite thing, her expression slowly growing jovial at my public scolding. “Mom, I can explain.”

I turn, but since I am literally in the corner already, there is nowhere else to go. I can feel Nate behind me, though my camera shows that he is still out of view.

“Do I even want to hear this? Those things you said about your sister—they were abhorrent!”

“I didn’t really say anything bad about her other than the fact that she married my first love,” I rebut. This is a knee-jerk reaction. An attempt to calm her down.

But naturally it has the opposite effect. My mother clasps her hand over her mouth, and tears spill down her face. My father verbally rushes to her aid, clarifying her prior statement. “I believe it’s not what you said as much as how you said it.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I can’t speak. My mother wipes her eyes hastily, leaving black lines of mascara that run from her cheekbones to her jawline like skid marks on a highway after a truck blows a tire and careens through the guard rail.

“You married some literary professor—some author—and didn’t even think to invite your own parents to your wedding?” she yells at me. “Why, Cecily? What is wrong with you? Why would you keep that from us? Do you hate us all so much? We’ve never done anything but love you and support you!”

Have you ever had one of those out-of-body experiences where you feel like your life is happening to you, and you’re just a spectator, watching from the sidelines as if it’s happening to somebody else? I feel myself crying. I know tears are bouncing off my cheeks. One hits my chest. The next one splashes on my folder. Everyone is watching me. I can’t see them, but I can feel them, and I can hear their low murmurs. The din has quieted some, but I know it’s not because people have left. I am the modern-day equivalent of a circus freak show. Trapped like a feral wildebeest here in the corner of the corridor. Nowhere to go.

Before I can compose a response, Nate reaches over my shoulder and snatches the phone away from me. He looks into the screen at my mother. Just seeing his unfamiliar face quiets her down.

“Mrs. Allerton,” he says, voice composed. “I’m Nate Ellis. It’s nice to meet you, although I would have hoped this would happen under very different circumstances. Now, before you say anything else, I’ll ask you to please just hear me out. First of all, CJ’s writing is incredible. But it’s also fiction. Fiction is creative, and many authors use it as a way to process trauma. CJ is not the type of woman to slander her family. However, she is deeply loyal, and once upon a time, Bryce broke her heart, whether you want to hear that or not. What he and Jamie did to her caused no small amount of damage. She used the therapy of writing to move beyond the pain.”

Because I’ve turned around, I can confirm that everyone is watching now—most notably Dillon Norway and Alice Devereaux. I want to steal the phone back from Nate, but he’s walked several steps away from me, and my knees are too weak and frozen to make any moves.

“You’re that young man from the TV,” my mom says.

“Please, let me finish,” Nate interrupts. “You have no idea how much your daughter loves you and your family, Mrs. Allerton. She loves you all so much that she held that hurt inside and put Jamie ahead of herself. She came to Matthias so she could start a new chapter in her life, but you can’t start a new chapter until you finish the one before it. That’s all CJ was trying to do. She was just trying to move on.”

No response from my mother.

“As for us,” Nate continues. “I would do anything for your daughter. She’s a fabulous author with an incredibly bright future, but more than that, she’s an incredible person. And I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with her,” he says, turning to look at me.

Those words pierce my soul, and I feel my face twist up hearing them come out of his mouth. Shock continues to paralyze my vocal cords. My hands move to wipe the tears from my cheeks.

“And I’m going to lose my job for this, but I can’t risk her losing her family for me.”

Whoa. No. No, no, no. I snap out of it. “Nate, stop,” I say.

He waves me away. “Yes, we’re married, but none of it is real,” he says.

“Nate! Stop it!” I say again, significantly louder. I lunge at him and try to grab the phone away, but he spins away from me and keeps. Running. His. Mouth.

“It was all a misunderstanding. She married me to save my job after that stupid Tonight Show bit. But it was a sham wedding. Legally, it was real, but emotionally, it was fake, all of it. I’m a professor and she’s a student, and because we kissed and people found out, the only way for me not to get tossed out on my ass was for us to get married. A marriage of convenience, you understand? She would never walk down the aisle for real without her family there. You have to know that. She’s not that person, Mrs. Allerton.”

“Goddammit, Nate! Shut up!” I yell. I step toward him again, and this time, I grab the phone successfully. “Mom, I’ll call you back.” I end the FaceTime, my phone stuck on a picture of my mother in a state of ultimate confusion before reverting back to Blinky, my betta fish from work, who also happens to be my wallpaper. I grab Nate by the wrist and drag him directly into what remains of the crowd, past a visibly agitated Dillon Norway, nearly knocking down several people as I barrel through, pushing my way out the main doors and into the cold.

I drag him several steps toward the parking lot, in the opposite direction of the festivities. “Why would you do that?” I scream. The cold night wind howls through the trees as if agreeing with me.

“Do what? I was looking out for you!”

“I could have handled my mother, Nate! You didn’t have to butt in!”

“But you weren’t handling anything, CJ. You froze. She was screaming at you, and you froze. And to be quite honest, I don’t know why you’re angry with me!”

“You outed us!”

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