But Samantha barely noticed her, because it was Tristan that made all the air expel from her throat. He was dressed in a tan tuxedo. An off white button-up shirt fastened at his tanned throat, but it was his eyes that memorized her most. They were full of emotion, with bits of gray darkening their depths. He looked, emotional—because he was taking on the role that should have been his father’s. Taking on the role of a person who was far too selfish to be there today.
Tristan pulled in a deep breath and squeezed his sister’s hand in a transfer of strength. Samantha’s eyes moved down to her feet, because as emotional as this was to witness, it must have been ten times more emotional for the pair. They had fought like cats and dogs for most of their lives, but seeing them now, watching them walk side by side, nobody would ever know it. Together they were a harbor of strength, a unit of love and an example of what family was supposed to be. They were crossing the hurdle of a broken family, of a deadbeat father, with their heads held high as though no one was the wiser.
They stopped just below the stairs, where Phin waited with tears in his eyes to fetch his future bride. He shook Tristan’s hand, and they both hugged, exchanging a few words before breaking apart.
The minister stepped forward with a soft smile as he looked from Tristan to Renee. “Who presents this woman to be married to this man?”
Tristan cleared his throat, then clasped his hands together in front of his body. “Her mother and I do.” It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Because those were words which normally came from a father—yet Tristan, barely twenty-five, said them with more pride, more emotion than anyone else ever could.
There was a hush amongst the crowd, as the minister nodded, and Renee climbed the stairs with Phin. Tristan moved to the end of the row of groomsmen, glancing up to the wooden arbor where Renee and Phin would say their vows, and ignored Samantha completely.
Samantha tried to pay attention, to stay present and listen to every word that was spoken, but it was impossible. Because inside, her heart was breaking. Inside, she was struggling to keep herself upright.
Tristan hadn’t even looked at her. Didn’t acknowledge her for the entire service, and all her fears and insecurities came bubbling to the surface. She wanted to scream. To jump up and down, just to get his attention. To have him talk to her, even if the words he said were to tell her it was over, because his silence was unbearable. His silence was like a double-edged sword, slicing through every vulnerable crevice of her body, her mind—her soul.
She somehow made it through the ceremony, a smile on her lips as she walked out toward the gardens. The guests were ushered toward the open bar, while the bridal party was whisked away by the photographer. Samantha was hardly present for any of it. Her body was living, while her mind and heart protected themselves in a proverbial hole. When the wedding party was released from the photographer, everyone headed back toward the waiting reception.
Samantha caught up with Tristan just before he entered the building. She pulled at the hem of his sleeve, forcing him to turn around. His eyes were distant and dark, so different from the man she’d gotten to know over the past week.
“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Why haven’t you called me back? Why are you ignoring me?”
He licked his lips, seeing her, but not really looking. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She stared at him, wanting to shake him out of whatever had taken him, because this was not the man she’d grown to love. “Tristan, I’m sorry.”
His eyes closed, and he gripped the bridge of his nose in an effort to control his emotion. “I thought you broke up with him.”
She shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks with the relief of finally getting through to him. “I couldn’t just—”
But he cut her off. “Why was he here? Why was he holding you in his fucking arms?” His words were quiet, but were spit from his mouth with all the venom she deserved.
She looked into his eyes, seeing all the hurt and hatred that lived there. Guests were walking by, looking her up and down as they entered the reception room, and all she could do was tell the truth. “We’d been together for six years, I couldn’t—”
But he didn’t listen. “That’s what I thought.” He turned on his heels, not allowing her to finish, and entered the reception room.
She stumbled forward, left in the doorway with her heart in her throat as she watched him walk away. There were people all around her, laughing, smiling, and celebrating—while she struggled to keep herself upright. She walked into the ballroom dressed in a beautiful gown, her hair done up like a princess, yet feeling more alone and undesired than she’d ever felt in her entire life. Needing some sense of solitude, she shuffled through the crowd and pushed through the door to the restroom. She plucked a box of tissues from the closest table then sat down on the toilet and started to cry.