"Thank you, Neal."
I stood up on the platform, watching the two of them so cozy together, and all at once I was just tired.
So this was the wedding Neal had promised me.
After the ceremony came the toasts.
Neal stayed glued to Georgina's side the whole time, terrified someone might jostle her.
I carried my own glass and walked ahead, alone.
A friend who knew us couldn't help herself.
"Sonia, what's gotten into Neal?"
I took a small sip. Something rose in me and just as quickly went flat.
"Apparently the bride doesn't matter much either."
She stared at me, lost for words.
It wasn't until the banquet broke up that Neal finally came over to me.
He carried the faint smell of liquor.
"Worn out from today, hm?"
He reached out to drape an arm over my shoulders, but his palm closed on nothing.
I stepped back.
"It's late. Let's go home."
Displeasure flickered across his face, his brows knitting again.
"Sonia, what are you sulking about now?"
I didn't answer. I just walked straight for the door.
My phone buzzed in my bag.
I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
A message from Graham.
"Nine tomorrow morning, outside the courthouse. Don't be late."
I looked at the screen for a few seconds.
Then my fingers moved over the keys.
"I'll be there."
The bridal suite was dead quiet.
Neal sat on the couch and tugged his tie loose.
"Sonia, get me a glass of water."
He said it so easily, the same as he had a thousand times before.
I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of warm water, and set it on the coffee table.
He picked it up, took a sip, and his brows pulled tight.
"Why is it plain water?"
"Liquor upsets your stomach. You always used to remember that."
I looked at him, my voice level, without a ripple.
"We're out of honey."
"We're out of honey, and it never occurred to you to stock up?"
"Sonia, you really have gotten more and more careless lately."
His phone rang, right on cue.
He glanced at the screen, and his face melted into tenderness.
"Georgie, what's wrong?"
"Your stomach's hurting again? Did you eat something bad tonight?"
"Don't cry, I'm coming right now."
He hung up, stood, and grabbed his coat.
"Georgie's stomach is acting up at the hotel. I'm going to go check on her."
"Get some sleep. Don't wait up for me."
I stood in the middle of the living room, watching his back.
"Neal."
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me.
Impatience in his eyes.
"What is it now?"
"I already agreed to give you the wedding. What more do you want?"
"Georgie's alone at the hotel, and she's sick."
"Stop fighting with her at times like this."
I didn't say anything. I just watched him, quietly.
Eight years.
From the day the Swansons found me and brought me home, Neal had been right there beside me.
Back then he was good to me.
I'd say I wanted the honey cake from that place on the South Side, and he'd stand in line two hours to bring it back.
I'd say I was scared of the dark, and he'd keep a video call open all night just to be there.
But once Georgina was diagnosed with depression, everything changed.
He handed all his patience, all his favor, to the fake heiress who had lived my life for seventeen years.
And I became the one who had to be understanding. The one who always gave way.
"Go, then."
I drew my eyes back, my voice so calm it surprised even me.
Neal paused.
His expression eased a little.
"It's good that you understand."
"Tomorrow I'll buy you that bag you've been wanting."
The door shut with a dull, heavy sound, like something inside me broke along with it.
