Page 128 of When Stars Collide
“Luke,” Elle’s voice came out remarkably steady and resolute, like her tears had washed away all of her uncertainty, uncovering a confident resolve, “when you came into my life, I’d all but given up on people in general, and men, especially. The only person I trusted in the world was Mena, and I was okay with that, because I felt safe that way. The less people I allowed myself to get close to, the less they could hurt me. At the time, I’d come to think of that as normal, even though it was anything but. And then you came into my life and you showed me the sort of kindness and compassion I’d only ever read about in books. For the first time, I was beginning to have hope for the future. But I was a broken person, and in the end, my self-doubt took over. I left you, thinking that I was doing you a favor, that you would be better off without me and the dysfunctional existence that had molded me into the person I was.
“I was wrong, Luke. So very wrong.
“So, I lived—no, I wasn’t living, I existed. I existed over the next decade of my life in a world without you, settling for less than what I deserved while convincing myself I was happy when I wasn’t. Then, by some twist of fate in this cosmic universe, you and I were brought back together again. At first, I thought I was being punished for the way things ended between us. It was a way for me to make amends to you and move on, but I should have known better because there was really no moving on without you, Luke. And I truly believe we were brought back to each other again because I was finally ready to become a whole person, to quit running from life and embrace the fact that I am deserving of love.
“So, Luke, I vow never to shut down the lines of communication between us. I promise never to run away when my insecurities get the best of me. I’ll continue to work on me to rebuild what life tore down those many years ago. For the rest of our days, I’ll be your partner, your best friend, your biggest cheerleader. Together, we’ll make it through both the dark and the light, for you are the love of my life, and thank God, I’m yours.”
How she was able to keep her composure, I had no idea, as I was nowhere near the vicinity of keeping my shit together. Elle’s progress over the last two years with reconstructing—or constructing, really—her sense of self-worth was impressive. I’d always known she’d had it in her, and the sense of pride that coursed through my body was overwhelming.
Blinking back my tears, I turned my head away from the audience just as a tap on my shoulder diverted my attention to Violet. Ever attuned as she was, I expected to be met with a wad of tissues but found a miniature bottle of Jose Cuervo pressed into my palm, instead.
*****
Hand in hand, Peter and I entered the tent set up for the reception right as the DJ announced our arrival to a host of applause from the guests. It was the second time we’d walked together since the ceremony, arms interlaced in one way or another, and about the one hundredth time since the ceremony that I’d felt a palpable tension between the two of us. This tension first presented itself when Peter and I followed Luke and Elle down the aisle arm in arm after the ceremony. It lingered through the photographs and, apparently, would now be joining us for the reception. I’d first attempted to engage Peter in conversation—only small talk, nothing substantive—as we’d walked together up the aisle. He’d acted polite, answering my questions and acknowledging my statements about the wedding, the weather, and all the other fillers one comes up when trying to start a conversation. But his answers had come in the form of one-word responses, with an occasional grunt or nod of his head thrown in for good measure. This time was no exception.
The moment we each acknowledged the crowd with a polite wave—vehemently drilled into our heads by Violet, especially the fact that ‘Our wave had to involve all five of our fingers up in the air and not just one’—Peter dropped my hand like he was afraid he was going to contract something from me and proceeded to head to his spot at the wedding party’s table.
Stunned and a bit hurt, I followed behind him, taking a seat in my chair next to Elle’s spot. Peter was only three chairs away, yet he may as well have been seated on the moon for as distant as he was being.
Great. Just as I’m ready to tell him that I’ve decided to leave New York and start a new life here with him and Jackson, he pulls this. I really should have told him how I felt before the wedding.
What if that wouldn’t have mattered? He seemed to have made a decision of his own; one that definitely didn’t involve me.What do I do now, return to New York with my tail tucked between my legs? Tell Phineas I’d broken his heart for nothing?Phineas had left the door open for me to return to him in New York, but I knew I couldn’t do that. As long as I knew there was a chance with Peter, no matter how insufferable he could be, he was it for me. And I knew I was it for him, too. Damn that ridiculously handsome son-of-a-bitch.
Peter stared straight ahead, completely oblivious of everyone and everything around him. I stared at him, hoping that he would turn his head and we could have the conversation we needed to have sooner rather than later, but it soon became apparent that wasn’t going to happen.
Fine, then I’ll just start the conversation. But how to start? Would “What the fuck, Peter?” be too aggressive? Probably, yes, but it would get the point across a hell of a lot quicker than, “Gosh golly gee, Peter, maybe you could spare a moment so we can have a little chat?”
Okay, so maybe something somewhere between the former and the latter. All that mattered was that I said something.
“P—” I began, but just as my lips puckered together to make the ‘P’ sound, Salvatore showed up at the table with a beer for Peter and the two began chatting together like they were old buddies.
Okay, so it is just me.
“I’m so glad this day is almost over,” Violet announced, slumping down in the chair next to me. “Whoa, is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. Clearly, my face was mirroring the irritation going on inside of my head. A poker face I had not. “Do you think homicide violates proper wedding etiquette?”
“I … uh … I … probably?” She shrugged.
“Chill, Daffodil, it’s a joke. The better question is whether you still have any of that pocket booze left?”
Winking, she reached into her pockets, pulling out a half-dozen miniature bottles of alcohol. “Would you like peach schnapps, rum, or more tequila, perhaps?”
“The schnapps will be fine, thanks.”
Violet grabbed the small bottle of schnapps, hesitating before handing it off to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after your toast? You may want to have a clear head and all.”
The look I must have given her was enough for her to abandon ship on that idea and plunk the bottle in my outstretched hand without any further questioning.
“So, are you ready for your speech?” she asked, testing the waters. “Do you have it written down?”
“Written down? Psh …” I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig. “It’s all up here.” Much to Violet’s horror, I tapped the top of my head.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I don’t know about you two,” Kirsten flopped down on her chair, promptly kicking off her heels and resting her swollen feet on the table, “but I’m so ready to blow this popsicle stand and crawl into bed.”
Violet stared in shock at Kirsten’s feet perched near her napkin and salad fork. I could almost see her synapses firing off at lightning speed inside of her head, trying to keep her somewhere between calm and from going batshit crazy. For the first time in what would probably be … well, ever, I could relate to her.
