Part 4: Down to the Main Hall
In his hand was a cream envelope.
Joan saw it and went pale.
“Thomas,” she said. “We need to talk privately.”
“No,” he said. “For once, we’re going to talk where everyone can hear.”
He turned to the wedding coordinator, who was frozen by the door.
“Please ask the immediate family and bridal party to gather in the main hall.”
Joan took one step toward him.
“Don’t you dare.”
My father looked at her like he was seeing a stranger.
“You cut my daughter’s wedding dress.”
“She hit me!”
“You cut her wedding dress.”
“She provoked me. She has always provoked me. She makes me look like the villain no matter how much I try.”
A laugh came out of me, but it sounded broken.
“You literally used scissors.”
Joan’s eyes snapped to me.
“Don’t speak to me like that.”
My father stepped between us.
“Don’t speak to my daughter at all.”
My daughter.
Two words.
I had waited more than a decade to hear them said like that.
Not softly.
Not apologetically.
Like a line in the ground.
Downstairs, the main hall filled fast.
Briar Hollow’s main room had a stone fireplace, tall windows, and wooden floors polished so brightly they reflected the chandeliers.
Guests turned as we came down.
First my father.
Then Joan.
Then Madison, pulling at her champagne dress like she still thought everyone should admire it.
Then me, holding the torn side of my gown.
The whispering began immediately.
“Oh my God, what happened?”
“Is that the bride?”
“Why is her dress ripped?”
“Who has scissors?”
Phones lifted.
Joan saw them and switched masks so fast it would have been impressive if it wasn’t disgusting.
She pressed one hand to her cheek.
“I’m so sorry everyone has to witness this,” she said loudly. “Dakota is emotional. Weddings bring up grief.”
The old version of me would have shrunk.
The old version would have looked at the floor.
The old version would have worried people might believe her.
But my father spoke before I could.
“No. They’re witnessing the truth.”
The room went still.
Luke pushed through the crowd, his face drained.
“Dakota?”
I looked at him and shook my head once.
I’m okay.
Not really.
But enough.
He came to my side anyway.
When he saw the dress up close, his jaw tightened.
“Who did this?”
Joan opened her mouth.
My father answered.
“My wife.”
A sound moved through the hall.
May you like
Not a gasp exactly.
A judgment.
