I’ve been giving a lot of thought as to why I was so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion when I saw him with his coworker, and I think it may have to do with my dad leaving our family when I was young. I never realized I had trust issues, but maybe I do.
I feel extremely guilty about my near-fling with Billy, and even more guilty about keeping it a secret from Clay. But when I consider the pros and cons of confessing, I decide that Clay would not really want to know about it, and because I never, ever plan to do anything like that again, I decide that it's okay if I keep this one little indiscretion to myself. I feel like I cheated on Clay, but I remind myself that in my mind, we were broken up that night, so I wasn't betraying him. And Billy and I didn't even actually have sex.
Even though I have it all rationalized in my mind, for some reason I can't stop thinking about it.
My mom arrives on Friday and we immerse ourselves in wedding planning. Though the timeframe is tight, I get excited as we discuss details for her special day. Saturday is a long, fun, and tiring day that we spend visiting countless clothing shops, eventually circling back to the first one we'd visited, where we select off-the-rack dresses for both her and me and order rush alterations. I'll be the only bridesmaid, and over sushi, my mom tells me that Billy will be standing up for George during the ceremony.
"Everything's going so well," she says. "But Billy is the one thing I'm feeling bad about."
I go both warm and cold at the mention of his name, and her comment takes me by surprise. Billy is the one thing I'm feeling bad about too.
"What do you mean?"
She finishes a piece of sashimi before answering. "Well, Billy is looking for someplace else to live, and I feel like he's leaving because of me. Like I'm pushing him out."
I take a sip of tea and think of how to voice my thoughts without sounding too judgmental. "I was actually surprised that Billy was still living at home. He's never had a place of his own?"
My mom shakes her head and frowns. "When George's wife died, Billy was getting ready to go to college for veterinary medicine. But Tommy was only four at the time, and Billy ended up staying at home to help out. George feels bad that Billy never went to college, but he hasn't been able to talk Billy into going. I'm sure he feels like it's too late now."
She looks thoughtful as she picks up a tiny piece of pickled ginger with her chopsticks. "I can tell that Billy has been a huge help in raising Tommy. He still is, in fact. And I know having him there helped George get through a very difficult time."
I feel my face redden and hope that I can blame it on a bite of spicy wasabi. Not only did I jump to conclusions about Clay when he was comforting a coworker, but I also rudely judged Billy for being twenty-five and still living at home. I had assumed he had no ambition or goals in life, when in reality he had selflessly given up his goals to help his family.
I feel like crying, both at the sad situation of George's wife dying so young, and in shame at my assumptions. I sip my tea and bring my focus back to my mom's concerns.
"Have you told Billy that you don't want him to leave?"
She nods. "I did, and George talked to him too. I suppose it's time for him to go. Maybe he'll be glad to be on his own. I just don't want him to feel like he has to rush out just because George and I are getting married."
"I'm sure he doesn't feel like you're pushing him out," I say. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll be happy to be on his own."
We eat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes and then I ask, "Does Billy have a job?"
"He earns money on the family farm, he works on other farms in the area too. He works a lot with horses, training them, giving riding lessons, things like that."
"That's good that he still works with animals, even if he wasn't able to become a vet." It doesn't surprise me to learn that Billy works with horses; he was so good with Gracie and Buck during our ride, and I remember him rescuing the fawn that had been stuck in the fence.
My mom and I continue our dinner, moving on to lighter and happier topics of conversation, like wedding details, and honeymoon plans.
Later that night, when I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I envision my mother's wedding. This is a habit I have from my work. I picture all of the details as I plan them, and see how everything will come together for museum events. When I imagine my mom's wedding on the farm, under the flowered arch on the hillside, I see the chair rentals that have been ordered, the flowers, the runner… but my mind keeps moving right past all that, straight up the aisle to where I envision Billy will be standing.
Chapter 13
My mom visits again the following weekend for more shopping. A week after that, even though I know Clay is hoping I’ll stay over at his place, I accept invitations from two different friends and end up going out without him both Friday and Saturday. Clay sends an angry text while I’m out Saturday, accusing me of avoiding him.
Even though I’ve seen him for lunch dates, and a couple of times for drinks after work, we have not been alone together since my weekend in the country. I’m uncomfortable when I think about sleeping at his condo, or having him stay with me, but I’m not sure why. Things feel different between us. Maybe I still need time to build back the trust, or maybe a little bit of my head and heart are somewhere else.
The next weekend is the wedding, which has come together amazingly well. It’s going to be a fairly simple event, but there will still be food, drinks, and dancing. George has friends who play in a band, and I called on work contacts for caterer and florist referrals. Along with frenzied planning, we were also just plain lucky to be able to get the vendors lined up on such short notice — especially for a spring wedding in the country.
I take a half day of vacation at work, and Clay picks me up at one o'clock for the drive to George's house. Our plan is to get there mid-afternoon so that I can join in a rehearsal of the ceremony, but on our way a tractor trailer accident shuts the road down for almost two hours, and we get stuck in a traffic jam with no way to reach an exit.
When we finally get moving again, the rehearsal is long since over, and my mom sends a message telling me that everyone is on their way to a restaurant for a pre-wedding family celebration. I'd known about this in advance — my mom had sent the address to me last week — and I'd been unsettled to find out the dinner was being held at the same bar/restaurant where I'd first met Billy. I'd never expected to be going back there, much less with Clay and Billy both in attendance.
When we pull into the parking lot, I'm not prepared for the reaction I have to being there again. I thought I was prepared mentally, but my body has a mind of its own, and I feel flooded with warmth at the memory of what went on there one month ago.
Though I've tried to push it out of my mind, I can't deny that what I felt with Billy was extraordinary. I'm sure there's a logical reason for it, like the fact that Billy was a stranger, or I was filled with anger and heading for a rebound encounter. I know that love is based on so many more important things than physical sensations, so why can't I get that night out of my mind? Maybe I just need more time to pass.
Clay is in a foul mood after the highway backup, and has nothing nice to say as we make our way to the entrance of the rustic building. "This is where your mom is having the rehearsal dinner?" The disapproval drips from his voice.
"I don't think they have many choices around here, Clay."
The place looks as busy as it did last time I was here. This time I'm at least dressed more appropriately with jeans and a cotton blouse. I'd told Clay to wear casual clothes, but he still looks polished in khakis and a pale pink button-down. City casual and country casual are very different things.
When we get inside, the hostess directs us to the restaurant side, and I locate my mom and George with a group of about eight other people at a big table in the back. I see my aunt and uncle, a few people I don't know, Tommy, and then my gaze finds Billy. His skin is very tanned and he looks even bigger than I remember. His hair is longer too, tousle
d and unruly. He's staring straight at me, his eyes smiling, but then I see his focus move behind me, and his face turns colder as he spots Clay.
Even though I haven't quite managed to forget it, I don't expect Billy to be holding on to any strong feelings from that weekend, so I'm surprised by how bothered he seems by Clay's presence.
I'm relieved to find that seats have been saved for Clay and me at the opposite end of the table from Billy. My mom hugs us and introduces us to members of George's family that we don't know. As we sit, Clay leans into my ear and makes another sarcastic remark about the restaurant. I'm grateful that there is loud music playing and no one can hear him except me.
Family style appetizers of wings and onion rings are followed by big platters of barbecued chicken and ribs, and I soon find out that the food tastes as good as it had smelled that night I'd been here sitting at the bar. Everyone eats and talks and is in good spirits, especially my mom, who looks happier than I've ever seen her. Clay finally loosens up, and I can tell he's enjoying the food too, even as he makes snarky remarks to me about how unhealthy it is.
I glance down at Billy a few times, but he doesn't meet my eyes.
After the meal, we all head out together to the parking lot, and my belly does a little flip-flop as we round the corner to the site of my indiscretion. To the place where Billy had me pressed up against the wall.
I'm hoping to leave quickly, but everyone stands around outside, gathered in little clusters, still talking, discussing details about the wedding tomorrow. I risk a quick glance in Billy's direction and see that he's staring straight at me. I quickly look away, but I continue to feel the heat of his gaze. I know then that he's remembering our time here together, just like I am, and I wonder how I'm going to make it through the day tomorrow.
Chapter 14
You wouldn't necessarily expect a forty-nine-year-old woman to be nervous at her wedding, but the next morning, my typically calm and confident mother looks a little jittery.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" I tease as I help her style her hair.
George spent the night at a neighbor's house so that my mom could use his house to prepare for the wedding without risking the bad luck of the groom seeing the bride before the ceremony. Some traditions just never die, I think with a smile.
"Definitely not," she says. "It's just that it's been a long time since I've done this, and I don't want anything to go wrong."
"It will all be perfect," I reassure her. "Relax."
Billy was here last night, but I haven't seen much of him today. He's either been outside or in his room, and I'm glad for that. Tommy is helping with setup outside, and Clay is "staying out of our way," as he puts it.
He tried to initiate sex last night, up in the guest room bed we shared, but I just couldn't do it. "We'll be quiet. No one will know," he said, trying to convince me when I gently moved his hand off of my hip. I told him I was tired after the car trip, but the real reason was that I couldn't even consider having sex just down the hall from Billy's bedroom. For some reason, it would just feel wrong.
"Do you think we have enough here for everyone to drink?" my mom asks when we're nearly done with her hair.
"Relax," I tell her again. "All the details are under control."
The rest of the morning passes quickly, and soon enough it's time for the big event. My mother looks beautiful in her ivory dress, and her nerves seemed to have passed. She looks simply radiant.
The weather is clear and beautiful, and the florists have done a terrific job setting the stage for the ceremony. The gentle background music that's been playing pauses, then the tune changes — it's time for my walk down the aisle.
Heads turn to watch as I slowly make my way toward the altar. I see Clay sitting a few rows from the front. He gives me an encouraging grin, and I can't help but wonder what it will feel like to walk down the aisle again sometime as a bride. The thought of walking to meet him at the altar doesn't fill me with happiness as it once did.
I turn my focus toward my destination and see George, looking proud and handsome in his suit. And behind him, Billy. I almost don't recognize him. I've only seen Billy in jeans, and sometimes in muddy boots, and even with mud on his face. But now he is wearing a fitted light gray suit that further accentuates his broad shoulders. His dress shirt is bright white against his tanned skin, and his normally tousled hair is styled is handsomely tamed. He looks good enough to be the groom himself, and I have to look away.
But before I do, I see the expression on his face as watches me approach. His eyes are bright with appreciation, and it makes me a little weak in the knees. Has Clay ever looked at me that way?
I reach my spot and turn to watch for the bride. The Bridal Chorus begins, and my mother appears. All lingering conversation stops as everyone turns to see her. I look over at George and melt at the love I see for her in his eyes. I want what they have.
I look toward Clay. He's standing, turned in the direction of the bride, but he's not looking at her. His head is angled downward, and I get the impression that he's looking at his phone.
My mother moves gracefully up the aisle, hands me her bouquet, and the ceremony begins. I manage to hold back tears until they are pronounced husband and wife, and then I can't help but let a few slip out. They kiss, the guests cheer, and it's time to leave the ceremony. This time, I'm not walking alone. After my mom and George depart, I'm facing Billy, who offers his arm.
I wipe away the few remaining tears as I put a hand lightly on his forearm.
"You okay?" he asks. His expression is so kind that it makes me want to cry some more. Instead, I take a deep breath, nod, and smile at him, and then we follow our parents down the aisle.
Chapter 15
A breeze picks up while we're standing in the receiving line. There's no sign of rain, but the temperature drops noticeably and I can see tablecloths fluttering under the tent. As soon as I can get away, I hurry off to make sure things are secure and to check on other details for the reception.
After I check in with the bartender and the musicians, I swing by to visit Clay, who's sitting at a table by himself.
"Hey, beautiful," he says.
"Hey, yourself. Did you get some appetizers?"
"Two plates full." He smiles briefly and then his smile deflates.
I move behind him and rub his shoulders. "I'm sorry to leave you alone so much. I know you're probably bored."
"It's fine," he says, but his protestation sounds hollow.
I lean down to wrap my arms around him and kiss his cheek, feeling like I need to do something to patch over the cracks that I keep feeling between us, when a gust of wind raises goosebumps on my arms.
“Would you mind if I borrowed your jacket?" I ask. His suit jacket is draped on the chair behind him.
He leans forward, but there is a reluctance about his actions. I slip his jacket over my shoulders anyways, feeling awkward. "Thank you. I'll be back soon. I promise." I give him another quick kiss and cross the tent to check the buffet table, then I head to the house to find the caterer and make sure more food is on the way.
As I cut across the yard, I'm grateful for the warmth of the jacket. The day is still bright, but a stray cloud has moved over the sun, and the sudden shade makes the air feel cooler still.
I meet one of the catering staff as they're coming out of the house. As we're talking, I feel a vibration against my hip and it registers in the back of my mind that Clay's phone must be in the pocket of his suit jacket. I carry on with my conversation, wanting to make sure that someone will monitor the chafing dishes in case the wind extinguishes the heat sources, but when the phone vibrates a reminder, I take it out and glance at the screen without thinking about what I'm doing. I look at it out of habit, as if it's my own phone.
But it's not. It's Clay's. And there's a message from someone simply identified as "N" who has written, "I miss you. Will I see you tomorrow?"
I excuse myself abruptly from the caterer and
step around the corner of the house, out of view entirely from the reception. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as if I'd just been running.
I didn't mean to look at his phone. I'm not the type to snoop or pry. But I can’t just put the phone back into the pocket after seeing the message. With everything that’s happened, I feel justified in playing dirty to find out what's going on.
I type a response: "Maybe. What's up?"
"I hope you can come by and see me. I'll make it worth your while,” writes N.
N? Is this Nikki, the admin at his office, the woman he claimed he was “comforting” that night at the pub? I scroll up to look for previous messages between them, but there aren't any. I pause, wondering what to write to elicit more information, but it turns out I don't have to say any more, because another message from N. buzzes in: "I've been a naughty girl, and I think you need to spank me again.”
Goddammit! I am the biggest fool, and Clay is the biggest asshole! I roll my shoulders back so that his jacket falls to the ground. I am no longer cold; I'm burning with anger and something that feels strangely like relief.
I round the house and head toward the reception tent, intent on telling Clay off, once and for all. On the way, I catch sight of my mom and George talking with well-wishers, and my pace slows. I realize that I don't want to make a scene; I don't want to ruin their day.
I reverse course and head back to the house. Clay's jacket is lying in a bit of mud. I step on it, grind my foot down, then pick it up, rolling it into a messy ball. I slip into the house and head upstairs unnoticed, where I throw Clay's belongings into his travel bag and stuff the dirty jacket on top of everything.
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