When He Came, the Wedding Feast Had Ended

3: 3

Philip held the invitation, turning it over, then over again.

The gold-embossed double-happiness character caught the light.

He didn't open it.

He stared for a few seconds, then looked at me and suddenly laughed.

"You already had them printed?"

"Felicity Mason, this little production of yours doesn't come cheap."

He tossed the invitation onto the table and looked down at me.

"Now I get it. The bracelet at the birthday banquet during the day, an invitation appearing at home that night. One thing tied neatly to the next, right?"

"Was this Grandmother's idea?"

"She hands you the bracelet, you pick up your cue. One plays the good guy, one plays the bad guy, grandmother and grandson working together to corner me into declaring myself on the spot?"

"She's eighty. She's not thinking straight. You're twenty-seven. Are you going along with the nonsense too?"

I watched his contempt, and my heart still went cold.

He would rather believe his eighty-year-old grandmother had schemed up an elaborate trap.

Than believe that someone had truly stopped waiting.

"Both families' elders set the date together. The third of October."

I spoke calmly.

"I finished my last fitting for the gown last week. The venue's booked too."

"Both families' elders."

He bit down on the words and let out a cold laugh.

"See? What did I tell you."

"Grandmother's even found you the actors."

Then the mockery faded from his face, replaced by another expression.

The one he wore at the negotiating table.

"How many of these did you print?"

"Have they gone out yet?"

He frowned and leaned in close.

"Felicity Mason, the company's just getting off the ground. If this leaks, care to guess tomorrow's headline in the business section?"

"Pull back the ones you haven't sent. The ones already out, I'll have someone go collect tonight."

His words were earnest, sincere.

Just like three years ago, kneeling in the mud, begging me to wait for him.

That night the stars were bright, and his eyes were brighter.

"Fel, I'm begging you to trust me. Wait for me a little longer."

"I swear I'll prove myself to the Delgados and marry you in style, the way you deserve."

"I want you to be the happiest woman in the world."

"Answer me." His voice dragged me back. "Have the invitations gone out?"

"I honestly never imagined you'd go this far just to get a title—"

"Philip!"

Our eyes met, and my voice shot up.

My eyes went wet before I could stop them.

"The one who knelt and begged me to wait, back then, was you!"

"And now the one standing here telling me I'd "go this far just to get a title" is also you."

"These seven years, was I waiting on you, or did I owe you something?"

His mouth opened, his chest rose and fell twice, but nothing came out.

He only picked up the invitation and tore it in two, right in front of me.

"My flight's in the morning." His voice dropped low. "I don't have time to play along with you and Grandmother."

"Have this cleaned up by the time I'm back from overseas."

The master bedroom door slammed shut, hard enough to knock the fake wedding photo off the wall.

Glass scattered across the floor.

I looked at the photo I'd hung there on purpose, forcing it up as a hint about the wedding.

Fake was fake, after all.

At six the next morning, he walked out dragging the suitcase he'd carelessly thrown together.

For once, he didn't find me waiting in the living room.

Philip stood silent for a long moment, then turned and left.

The door opened. The door closed.

For the first time in seven years, I hadn't gotten up early.

Just to send him off with a "safe travels."