"More than that — every time Cecil's wife comes up, he can't keep the smile off his face."
"Talk about a good husband in Harbor Bay, and who doesn't think of Cecil first?"
"Exactly. Cecil's famous around here for being devoted."
Cecil's love for me was real.
But I'd always felt that his love for her was just as real.
I knew the two of them were innocent.
And still, the one truth no one would say out loud was the thing driving me out of my mind.
"Cecil, what's got you so distracted?"
He shook his head.
Leah was bringing her boyfriend home today. His mind, I knew, was already there.
So I made up my mind and skipped straight to the last part of the program.
Every guest had dropped a wish slip into the jar.
We would draw one out and help see it granted.
I reached in and unfolded the slip.
And, without thinking, I looked over at Cecil.
He had his head down over his phone, his driver standing behind him.
Lucas Chavez was thumping his own chest, beside himself.
"Mrs. Henson, don't tell me it's mine!"
I smiled. "It is. Congratulations."
He whooped and jumped for joy, again and again.
I looked down at the slip in my palm.
*Wishing Leah peace and joy, and that everything goes her way.*
Anonymous. But the handwriting was Cecil's.
I crumpled the slip and dropped it in the trash.
From the crowd, someone asked, curious, "Lucas, you never told us your wish! Come on, let's hear it."
He scratched his head and gave a sheepish laugh. "I don't really want anything. I wrote that I hope Cecil and his wife stay happy together for a lifetime."
The hand still over the trash gave a violent jerk.
"Daisy, Leah brought someone home, and Charles wants me to go back for a bit. I—"
"Is it Charles who wants you back, or you who wants to go back?"
Cecil held up his phone.
On the screen was a message from Charles.
"If your brother wants you there, then go."
I didn't go over with him.
I didn't have to see it to hear how things were going.
Word had already swept through the whole Sullivan house.
The eldest daughter had brought home some useless piece of trash.
Ordinary face, ordinary background, ordinary talents.
And his character — a street thug, plain and simple. Word was Charles had been so furious he'd swallowed two of his pills.
The man couldn't find a single thing to recommend the boy. Charles smoked through a pack before he finally called the brothers back to figure out what to do.
They went at it until dawn, and Leah still insisted on marrying him.
When I went looking for Cecil, the whole front hall held only the two of them.
He was frantic, the breath all bottled up in him with nowhere to go.
And he simply had no hold on Leah.
The eldest daughter, by contrast, sat there calm and cold, nothing about her like someone who'd lost her head.
She watched Cecil rage. She watched him come up empty.
She was savoring the man's collapse.
"Tell me what's so good about him. An ordinary fool, the most ordinary man alive, and you'd debase yourself to marry him!"
"Isn't she the most ordinary woman alive too? And you still honored her, loved her. Why can't I?"
Cecil froze. "Are you doing this out of spite?"
The moment it landed, he slammed the tea table in the front hall.
He clutched his hair, dragged a hand down his face.
The whole of him on the edge of breaking.
Leah stayed serene through all of it. "Cecil, you could pick an ordinary person, cut your losses in time, love her completely. I should be allowed the same."
"Loving completely, loving fiercely — every bit of it was a performance. Praise my acting if you want. I know exactly how wretched a love like that is to live inside, and that's the one thing I won't watch you do to yourself."
