Page 105 of Beautifully Messy
Thisis the plan they cooked up?
When the paramedics arrive, Darrell follows the gurney without a backward glance. This will be a costly trip to the ER. I’m still not clear why this was the bestidea, but James must have talked to them after leaving me last night. Maybe he thought separating the wedding and the breakup would be easier on her?
Whatever the reason, I don’t care. As long as it means James isn’t getting married today.
Ivy watches the gurney rolling through the front door. Her mouth is tight, her eyes wet with tears. She doesn’t move until Margaret guides her to the sectional in the living room.
“What does this mean?” her voice trembles.
“I think it means we wait.” Margaret brushes Ivy’s hair off her face. “We see if Vera’s okay.”
“But the wedding’s supposed to start at noon… It’s already eight. How can he go to the hospital and be back in time?”
Realization begins to settle on her face. Slow. Suffocating.
Margaret scans the room, searching for someone to say what she won’t. Her eyes land on Jules.
“Ives.” Jules moves cautiously toward her sister. “I think we have to assume he won’t be back in time. We should start calling vendors and guests, talk to everyone upstairs getting dressed.”
“NO!” Ivy screams. “We… we need to get married!” And the tears finally break through. She sobs uncontrollably into her hands. Through gasping breaths, she repeats, “We need to get married.”
“I’m so sorry, love.” Margaret pulls her close. “Right now, we need to focus on Vera and wait for news.”
“Mama?” Anna wraps her arms around my legs.
“Aunt Ivy’s sad. Let’s go upstairs.” I look into her wide, searching eyes and scoop her up, grabbing her a muffin and hustling us away.
I’ve made so many mistakes over the years, and now this—letting it get to this point, the morning of her wedding. While she might only be in love with the idea of him, these tears aren’t fake. This is any bride’s worst nightmare.
Anna and I retreat to the sunroom, curling up on the rug beside a basket of toys. She hums as she lines up animal figurines, the chaos from downstairs now muffled by distance and closed doors.
The sunroom, filled with years of memories, some painful, others beautiful, holds me like an old friend as I sprawl starfish on the floor and let it all wash over me. Surrounded by a child’s innocent play, the aftermath of a canceled wedding, and the first glimmers of real possibility, I begin to see the path forward. Not an escape, but a journey toward something better. A future that is mine to claim. No more pretending. No more lies. No more desires buried. A life waiting to be lived in all its messy beauty.
“Mama, want to play?” Anna’s soft voice breaks through the quiet.
“Yes, Bug. I want to play.”
And so we play together, while the world rearranges itself.
***
Acollectiveexhalemovesthrough the room as Vera, James, and Darrell step inside the cabin. Vera waves off concern, assuring everyone she’s fine.Not a heart attack. Just stress. Exhaustion.Relief ripples through the family in waves.
After everyone’s had their turn, hugging and fussing, I step forward and wrap my arms around her tiny body, fierce in her love and protective of those she cares for. She whispers, “I didn’t do this for him. I did it for you. Whatever you choose next, I believe in you.”
A single tear falls as I meet James’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder. In that moment, the rest of the room falls away—the relieved chatter, the movement around us, everything. His gaze holds mine, speaking a language we’ve perfected over years of silence. He nods, so subtle that anyone else would miss it. But I catch it, and with it, the promise.
He’ll be there when I’m ready.
“Thank you,” I murmur and step back out of Vera’s embrace.
Mason moves to my side, his hand finding the small of my back. Despite the way I recoil, he steps closer. My skin crawls beneath his palm, and I don’t hide my discomfort. I step out of his reach and cross the room, putting distance betweenus because if I don’t, I might not be able to resist saying something I can’t take back. Things are already over, but now is not the time for that conversation.
Relief in the room is palpable, but short-lived.
Ivy’s smile has returned. After a quick inquiry about Vera’s health, she launches into forced chatter about rescheduling the wedding. Her voice is overly cheerful, too rehearsed, like she can manifest the day back into existence. But the way she keeps smoothing her dress with shaking hands betrays what her voice won't.
She’s oblivious to the tension radiating from James. The pressure in him is visible, thick and vibrating, building toward the surface.
