But she didn’t want that. Had never wanted it. And now that she’d seen what she could be missing, the thought of having anything less destroyed what little of the real her was left. She didn’t want perfect. She wanted messy, and annoying, and inappropriate, and so unbelievably passionate it made her tremble just thinking about it. She wanted happiness. But she’d left happiness, or at least the promise of it, standing alone in the bushes, her kiss on his lips and her parents’ unspoken insults ringing in his ears.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she ducked her face to hide it. Elliot reached over beneath the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently until she looked at him. His face was creased with worry. He’d never seen her cry. No one had. She didn’t cry. Ever. She’d always seen it as synonymous with exposing her jugular. It was a weakness that she’d refused to indulge in. But now, she couldn’t help it. Another tear followed the first. And another.
Elliot handed her a napkin so she could dab at her face. He slung an arm around her shoulders and dabbed at his own pretend tears, eliciting some chuckles from those seated nearby. She gave his hand a squeeze in thanks and held her breath to stop the floodgates from opening.
She managed, barely. She kept the tears at bay, but not the miserable thoughts that wouldn’t stop running through her mind as her father droned on about what was truly important in life.
He had it so wrong. What difference did it make that they were getting a good start in life because they had their careers well in hand? All the thinly veiled jokes about the country club and promotions and how they could go on their honeymoon later because they were too busy right now were just…rubbish. Depressing.
Her sister and her new husband laughed politely, but Cher wondered how they truly felt about how they were starting their lives together. She knew they loved each other. Oh, they’d never be so crass as to actually indulge in any inappropriate public displays of affection. Like playing tonsil hockey in the bushes while their guests danced on by. But she could tell by the way they looked at each other that there was genuine love between them.
Lucky them. They’d managed to fall in love with someone from the right gene pool. But there they sat, at a huge wedding that neither of them had any hand in planning, postponing a honeymoon so they could get right back to work building their empires, instead of taking some time to focus on each other, on their new lives together.
That was so sad. And the thought that the same fate awaited her? Only without the benefit of actually loving the man she’d be shackled to for life? The lump grew in her throat again and she took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. This was what her family had reduced her to. A blubbering mess with a broken heart and shattered spirit.
No, not her family. Herself. She’d allowed it. Everything they’d done. She’d sat back and just let it happen.
The lump in her throat faded away and she sat up a little straighter. She was responsible for her own happiness, not them. They’d never been concerned about what would make her happy. Despite their dictatorship over her life, she knew her parents did care about her, were trying to ensure her future the best way they knew how. But it wasn’t what she wanted. Not by a long shot. And they were never going to understand or support that.
If she wanted something, no one else was going to give it to her. She was going to have to go after it herself. Go after him. And if she hurried, she might just catch him before he crossed the state line and she never saw him again.
There was a sea of tables between her and the exit. There was no way to just sneak out. But she couldn’t wait. Oz was getting further away with every second. Cher squeezed her brother’s hand again.
She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I love you, Smelliot.” She kissed his cheek.
He looked at her, his eyes questioning. She just smiled. “I have to go.”
She didn’t know what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had him beaming with approval.
“Yeah you do. I’ll deal with the fallout. Get out of here.”
She didn’t hesitate any longer. She pushed away from the table and got to her feet. Her father stopped mid-toast to stare at her open mouthed.
“Cherice,” her mother hissed. “Sit down!”
“I’m sorry, Mother. But I have somewhere I need to be.”
She ignored the gasps and muted giggles and wound her way through the tables, one single thought burning in her mind.
Oz.
…
Oz’s heart pounded in his chest but he didn’t stop to reconsider. He knew what he wanted and no one was going to stop him. He marched into the reception tent and stopped short. Gasps and whispers erupted all around him. Cher’s father stood at the head table, a champagne flute half raised. Her mother sat beside him, her face a shade of red Oz had never seen before. Elliot looked like he was ready to jump up and applaud. The bride and groom were…stunned, for lack of a better word.