by S. E. Law
“Do you have a big speech planned?” she asks me just as I start to turn away.
I turn around to face her again.
“Not a huge speech, but I’ll probably say a word or two.” Giving in to temptation, I lean in close to Cora’s ear again, ready to say something. But then my eyes glance downwards and the sight of the deep shadow between her breasts tantalizes me. Oh shit, I need to leave now. With that, I stalk back to my seat, determined to restrain my forbidden thoughts for the rest of the evening.
3
Cora
Twenty minutes into the engagement dinner, and I officially know something is wrong with my fiancé.
Sitting beside Marky, I keep trying to find moments to talk to him, but he continues to avoid me, instead chatting with a nearby friend or getting up to hug a relative. I, too, am distracted with the chaos in the room as I try to enjoy the party.
But in what spare seconds I have, I attempt to process what is going on with my husband-to-be.
Okay, so Marky arrived thirty minutes late. That fact alone isn’t a big deal, but something is nagging at me.
Why does he look so unkempt? Marky is known for always being impeccably dressed, and wearing a wrinkled dress shirt is a big deal for him. His hair, usually tame, is sticking up ever so slightly and his face looks flushed.
I wonder where he’s been? I think as I look at him.
In addition to looking tousled, I can’t help but notice that Marky also seems fidgety. He keeps checking his phone, too, as if waiting for someone to call. I take his hand in mine, worried.
“Everything okay, baby?” I whisper in his ear.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Marky brushes off my question and kisses me, a short, sweet peck on my cheek. Just as quickly, he turns away to chat with a cousin sitting next to him or to glance down at his phone again.
Okay, why is he so jumpy? And who is he texting so much?
Across the room, at the other end of our table, Matt observes us and I sense from his stare that he also thinks that something isn’t quite right with his son.
That’s it. I start to stand up, ready to have a hard conversation with my fiancé about what in the world is going on.
“Marky, we need to go outside and talk.”
Marky looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“Not right now Cora, you heard my dad,” he whispers. “They’re going to do the toasts any minute now.”
“I don’t care, we need to – ” but before I can pull Marky up to make him step outside with me, I notice my mom standing up a few chairs down, clinking a fork delicately against her glass. Waiters are walking around the room, filling up champagne flutes and passing them around to the guests.
Marky looks up at me with raised eyebrows and I sit back down quietly.
Toasts. I settle back into my chair. I guess this will have to wait.
“Cora, Marky, you darling children.” My mom begins and immediately sniffles a little. “Sorry, it’s just so strange to be standing here. Just yesterday, it seems like Cora was a little girl, hiding my keys so I couldn’t go to work.” The guests laugh politely. “And now here she is, a successful bookstore owner and engaged to the man of her dreams.” My mom smiles tearily. “Oh yes, she used to scribble Mrs. Cora Harrison all over her notebooks during high school.” The guests roar with laughter.
“It’s true, it’s true.” I smile good-naturedly at those seated closest to me. Beside me, Marky is smiling too, but he’s also distracted by his buzzing phone. My mom continues.
“In all seriousness, no one can ever really prepare you for the moment when your only child tells you that she’s engaged. When Cora got home from the night Marky proposed, she was so happy she was glowing. And look at my baby girl here today.” My mom smiles at me. “I know that she and Marky are going to have a wonderful life together. To the happy couple!”
Everyone raises his or her glass of champagne.
“To the happy couple,” they chime in unison. I nudge Marky and he finally looks up from his incessant messaging. He shoots me a weak smile, and we clink glasses and take a sip.
“Kiss, kiss!” Hadley chants in a singsong voice while she hits a knife against her champagne flute. I laugh and smile and lean over for a kiss from Marky. He dodges my lips and plants a quick peck on my cheek.
Okay, no PDA. I try to ignore how hurtful his slight is and turn back to the group to await the next speech.
For the next ten minutes, different friends or family members stand up to toast us. Hadley jokes about playing wedding when we were kids and why this is the reason I opened a romance novel bookstore. One of the Harrison cousins talks about how when he and Marky were little, how they used to chase girls and spray them with water hoses. Even Aunt Sue, drunk on who knows how many glasses of wine, starts to recount her own love story before my mom encourages her to sit down and eat something.
In so many ways, it’s the perfect engagement party – filled with awkward relatives and silly stories and too much booze.
But one thing isn’t perfect, and that’s my fiancé.
While I try my best to focus on the different toasts, I’m starting to feel overwhelmingly frustrated with Marky’s disinterest, and even worse, how pained he looks during some of the speeches.
At first I decide his reaction might be because some of the stories are a little too private or embarrassing, but even the sweet moments cause him to wince or look away.
What the hell is going on?
On more than one occasion, I find myself elbowing Marky so that he remembers to clap or sip his drink at the right moment.
“Who are you texting?” I ask him out of the side of my mouth while we wait for yet another relative to sit down from an impassioned speech.
“No one, it’s nothing.” Marky smiles at me and for a second, I think maybe I’m being too judgmental, but then I notice Marky glancing down at his phone again.
“Marky, can we just go outside for a minute and discuss this – ”
“Just stop, Cora, please,” Marky pleads. “I said we could talk about it later, I promise.” Seeing the distressed look in Marky’s pretty blue eyes and sensing that he really is upset, I back off.
“Okay, of course. I’m sorry.” I smile at him weakly and he nods at me. We turn away from each other, and I feel like my heart is beating too fast.
Across the noisy room, I see Matt standing up, his muscular form dominating the space and by his mere charisma, shushing the crowd.
“I’m not one for fancy speeches, but I just want to say this one thing.” The older man looks directly into my eyes, his own blue ones sharp, even in the dimly lit room. “Cora, you are as sweet, smart, and witty as they come. I am a lucky man to know that in just a few months, you’ll be a part of my family for good. To Cora, and to Marky. May you always enjoy what life brings you.” Matt raises his glass and the other guests follow suit and cheer. Matt sits down, lost again among the many faces.
But I can sense my almost father-in-law watching me from across the room. I try to act nonchalant, but knowing that Matt’s piercing blue eyes are focused on me is strangely arousing.
Cora, that is so wrong. I blush at my inappropriate thoughts. He’s your fiancé’s dad.
And yet he’s so handsome.
I look at Marky, but once again, my fiancé is ignoring me. This time, instead of prodding him to again get off his phone, I decide there’s no harm in distracting myself. I look about the room for something to occupy my racing mind, all the while intentionally trying to avoid looking at Matt. But it’s no use. Within seconds, I find myself gazing in his general direction.
Finally, unable to help myself, I sneak a furtive glance directly at Matt. He’s looking back at me, his sharp blue eyes intense and arousing. I look away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught.
Blushing, I turn my attention to the room at large. The restaurant is packed with loved ones from all over the country. I see my great aunt sneaking yet another cocktail, while one of Ma
rky’s groomsmen is hitting on Hadley. I smile when Brett Cunha, sitting a few seats down from us, catches my attention with his happy laugh.
Now that’s a handsome man, I think appreciatively. Strangely, I don’t feel guilty thinking this, the way I do when looking at Matt. Maybe it’s because Matt Harrison is about to be your father-in-law, the voice in my head chides.
Yet, there’s something different about Brett. Marky, Brett and I went to high school together, but I didn’t really know Brett at the time. He was on the football team with Marky, and they were great buddies. In all ways, Brett is astonishingly handsome with an athletic build, deep brown hair brushed behind his ears and a friendly smile. Yet, there are no chills when I look at him. He could almost be one of my girlfriends, he’s so open and unassuming.
I wonder what he’s doing these days? I know he and Marky are still friends, but I rarely see him around.
Brett notices me looking at him and smiles at me tentatively, but then his gazes slides almost immediately at Marky. I return the smile, but watch Brett from the corner of my eye. He’s also on his phone, furiously typing something. He looks up once more, this time directly at Marky and almost on cue, Marky looks at his buzzing phone.
Are they texting each other?
With a troubled frown and a long sip of champagne, I settle into my chair to wait for the evening to be over so I can finally confront my fiancé. What’s going on? Why are Brett and Marky texting each other in the middle of our engagement dinner? I need to solve this mystery before the night is over.
4
Cora
Admittedly, by the time the boisterous dinner is over and the guests are gone, I’m a little tipsy from the champagne. Why on earth did the restaurant staff keep bringing me so many glasses?
I’m standing in the front lobby at the restaurant, happy to be breathing in some cooler air from the open front door. It’s late and all of the guests have gone home, leaving only me, Marky, and some serving staff alone in the now quiet building.
“It was really nice of your dad to do all of this. Can you thank him again for me?” I ask.
Marky looks around vaguely.
“Sure.”
“Maybe we can write him a thank-you card. He might appreciate that.” I offer.
“Sounds good. Do you want me to call you an Uber?” Marky fidgets with his jacket button, standing a couple of feet away from me.
That does it. I put my hands on my hips and throw him an exasperated look.
“Okay, what gives?” I demand, feeling emboldened by all the champagne in my system.
“What do you mean?” Marky looks up at me, feigning innocence.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. All night long, you’ve been acting weird and distracted and like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world. What is going on?”
Marky stops squirming and looks at me intently.
“It’s hard to explain, Cora.”
“Hard to explain? No, Marky. Hard to explain is when your own fiancé won’t even kiss you at your own engagement party. Hard to explain is when you would barely hold my hand all night, but I’m supposed to cheer when people congratulate us on being a happy couple?” I shake my head, infuriated. “Hard to explain is when I feel like the man who proposed to me just last month seems to no longer love me in the slightest.”
I stop talking, my whole body trembling with rage and heartbreak and confusion. What the hell is so hard to explain?
“Cora,” he begins.
“No, no.” Exasperated, I bolt outside of Frankie’s, needing fresh air and space. The cool late night breeze hits me hard, and I start shivering.
“Cora,” Marky follows me outside. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Try the truth, Marky!” I yell, not caring if the wait-staff inside overhears our argument. I’d rather we argue about whatever it is than Marky keep avoiding me.
But to my complete and utter surprise, Marky’s bottom lip begins to tremble like a baby. Then, he bursts into tears in front of me, his entire face going red.
Alarmed, I immediately go to my fiancé and pull him into my arms.
“Oh, gosh, no Marky. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m a little tipsy and feeling hurt, I’m sorry.”
“Cora,” he whispers.
“What is it? Just talk to me.” I stroke his dark hair. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Marky pulls away from me, but keeps both hands on my shoulders, his usually bright eyes full of sadness and worry.
“I have no idea how to say this, so here goes.” He takes a steadying breath. “I’m gay.”
And in that moment, it all makes perfect sense: Marky’s physical hesitancy whenever we were in bed together, his late nights out with ‘the boys,’ and most of all, the surreptitious texts with Brett tonight.
“You’re gay,” I say in an expressionless voice.
“Yes.” Marky sighs, immediate relief etched on his handsome face.
“You only figured this out now? During our engagement dinner?”
“I’m sorry, Cora, I’m so sorry.” Marky’s eyes are full of tears, and I can tell he’s hurting deeply. I’m hurt too, though, and intend to let him know it.
“You proposed to me Marky. Why would you do that if you’re gay?”
Marky drops his hands from my shoulders, and shakes his head sorrowfully.
“Honestly? I’ve known for a while, but I wasn’t ready to share it yet. And we’d been dating for so long and everyone kept bringing up marriage and I guess I just felt pressured to ask.”
“Wow.” I don’t know what to say to him.
Truthfully, I’m not entirely shocked by the news. In fact, I’m relieved to learn that a lot of the problems we’d been having as a couple suddenly make sense. At least Marky is telling me now, before our engagement goes any further.
Marky takes one of my hands in his, still crying and looking completely defeated.
“I do love you. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, Cora, and I’m sorry that I’m hurting you. I know this comes at a bad time.”
I look at my handsome fiancé carefully, trying to process all of the different events that have led us to this intense moment outside the entrance of a fancy restaurant.
I sigh.
“Marky, I could say that I’m in complete shock, but that wouldn’t be totally true.” I brace myself for what I have to say next. “I’ve been wondering about your, um, preferences, for a while now, so maybe I was suspecting it? I’m not sure.”
“You were?” Marky looks surprised by my confession, his tears finally seeming to ease up.
“Yeah, a little. And I thought I was being silly but I guess it turns out that I was right. It was mostly the little things, but also some of the big ones. Like how you always seem to hesitate when it comes to PDA, or how you seem to have generic compliments about my attractiveness, but very specific ones when it comes to my outfits.”
“Cora I’m so sorry, I never meant to be mean to you.” Marky begins quickly, but I reassure him.
“Honestly Marky? I’m not saying any of this to hurt you – I’m upset with myself maybe more than you. I should have asked you about why you’re so physically distant or how in the world you came to care so much about face creams and under-eye serums.” I laugh, genuinely amused at my own cluelessness.
Yet there were multiple red flags.
As much I admire Marky’s gorgeous looks and perfect skin, the man has a more complicated beauty regimen than most women. I’ve seen him drop hundreds of dollars on creams, masks, colognes, and hair products. His wardrobe is meticulous and full of perfectly cut blazers, bright polos, and Italian loafers. He loves fashion magazines and is always suggesting different outfit ideas for me. I’d always assumed his interest was just because he likes looking good, and that’s a positive, right? I could be dating a guy who wears sweats everyday and smells like a locker room.
But standing here now, looking into the puppy eyes of my fiancé
, I know our relationship is done. And it breaks my heart that this is where we’re left after our long history as friends and then partners.
“I don’t know where to go from here.” I feel completely defeated myself, unsure how in the world I’m supposed to get over this bombshell. “What do we say to everyone? I mean, crap, this was our engagement party!”
“I wanted to tell you sooner, to talk to you, but every time I tried, you just seemed so happy and excited for us, and I couldn’t take that away from you.” Marky starts fidgeting with his jacket button again, and I try to focus on the chaos of the moment.
“I just… I just need a minute Marky, please.”
“Okay, sure.”
I walk a few paces away from him, needing to wrap my head around our situation. It is one thing to have suspected Marky of being gay, but it’s another one entirely to have him openly tell me.
I wince. No, you knew, Cora. Unbeknownst to Marky, I have other, more obvious reasons to suspect he was gay, and I should have confronted him before now. This is my fault too.
Last month, a couple of days after we first got engaged, I used his laptop to try and find some childhood photos to put together a slideshow for our engagement party. It was an innocent enough mission, and I knew that Marky wouldn’t be upset at me for going onto his computer.
As I was poking around, I stumbled onto a weird folder on his desktop. The folder had a nonsensical name like “Magic Fae,” which I thought was a mistake. But when I clicked on it, there were pictures: lots of pictures. Specifically, photos of nude men in revealing poses.
At first, I was just confused. Maybe these were nude models for his artwork, since Marky likes to paint figures. But on closer inspection, I noticed that several of the pictures included seductive, ‘come hither’ looks and that a few of them were obviously screenshots from a dating app.
I snapped the folder shut and just sat there at his desk for a moment, trying to get my bearings. I tried to ignore the nagging feelings that made me question Marky’s sexual orientation. But the pictures were hard to ignore, and as I sat there, I kept seeing those images in my mind. Was Marky attracted to that?