KILLIAN
"This week wasn't real, Killian.'
Leaning back in my chair, in the seat I had been allocated right beside the woman who had uttered those exact words a few hours earlier, I couldn't help but feel how wrong they were.
My fingers toyed with the edges of a glass of whiskey, staring with unseeing eyes at the condensation that formed and trickled slowly down the crisp slopes of the tumbler. Music blared through the hall, yet my ears weren't tuned to the sounds reaching them. Occasionally, I would endure a conversation from one of my friends or another wedding guest, but my mind and heart weren't in it.
Stella had sat down once since our conversation outside, and even then she had picked at a small portion of food, devoted to not meeting my gaze, and then- having eaten very little- excused herself and conversed with guests at another table.
She seemed lively, animated, and if I didn't know any better- unaffected. The smile on her face seemed natural, but when she thought no one was watching her, I saw the strain on her lips, her eyes darkening and tensing at the corners.
Currently, I watched as she had yet another shot of tequila with Braylee at the bar before moving to the dance floor where they were joined by Sadie. The three of them hopped about to some upbeat song that got them excitable, tossing their arms in the air and their heads from side to side. Dom joined them, attempting to do the worm while simultaneously holding his beer, but then a stoic-looking server came over to presumably ask him to desist.
It was a happy moment, captured by numerous flashes of a camera, and I was glad and disappointed.
Disappointed because I couldn't bring myself to partake of the moment, not right then, not when I knew it would make Stella feel awkward.
So I sat alone at our table and watched.
Watched and thought, my heart a mess of emotions I was struggling to untangle.
Was Stella right? Were we just too incompatible to actually work?
If I put aside the issues with my mother and looked at us in the grand scheme of our lives together, picked apart pieces of my life that I wanted and parts that she wanted- it seemed like we were cut from a different cloth.
I longed for stability and structure, following a linear path with my career that was gradually allowing me to ascend a ladder of command that would bring me financial comfort later on in life. I enjoyed travel and the complications I had to analyse in my research, but at the end of the day I was putting down roots and ensuring a future- for myself and my future family. Kids? Yeah, sure, but I had ample time yet to nurture the idea of them and even if I didn't procreate, I think I could handle that.
Stella's career appeared volatile as she danced to her own tune, her own words informing me that she liked not having a structured path resonating with her unpredictable nature. I couldn't decide if that was a quality I admired about her or something that worried me. She was not conventional and even if I didn't find myself prescribing to everyday normalcy, I could see how she would find my ways of thinking, my desires and goals, conventional.
Maybe, in that regard, we were doomed to fail.
I found my gaze drawn to her, inevitably, and she threw back her head and laughed at Dom, who was now "flossing". Her hair had come loose and tumbled around her shoulders and back in clusters of thick waves. The yellow satin dress still clung to every delectable curve of her body that made every nerve-ending in my body come alive.
I had to drag my gaze away from her because even if she was right, even if we would never be compatible in a relationship, I still wanted her.
I still wanted to try.
My jaw clenched.
I should know better, that it would always end badly between us. If I wanted to be with her, even if it wasn't already too late, I would need to compromise parts of myself. I wasn't sure I was willing to give up- the need for stability and growth, leading a life of unpredictability that would align with her standards.
Someone dropped into the chair beside me with a heavy sigh. I turned, finding Matty slumped backwards and running his hand through the tangled strands of his hair that flopped over his forehead. He looked decidedly haunted as he stared at the empty drink glasses littering the table before him.
"Alright, Matt?" I asked Sadie's brother, purely out of concern and no real desire to make conversation. He looked like I felt- internally wretched.
His eyes flew to mine, surprised, and I wondered if he realised I was even beside him to begin with. After he had disappeared with Mia, I hadn't seen him since. Mia had been scarce, too, for that matter, once the speeches had been concluded.
"Yeah," he said in a voice that didn't sound like he really believed that affirmative. Glancing around, he made a gesture with his wrist and soon a waiter rushed over with a drink. "Fuck."
Seemed as if I wasn't the only one having a helluva evening at Sadie and Sipho's wedding. I tossed back the last sips of my whiskey, setting the glass away from me. "Agreed."
Matty glanced around at that, then looked at the austere watch clasped to his wrist. "Christ, when are they supposed to leave? I need to get out of here."
I couldn't agree with him more, the desire to leave the party so strong it almost made me want to bolt from the venue as if the devil himself was chasing me. But I had my reasons. I wondered what Matty's were. He had seemed fine, even cheerful, earlier. What had changed? Noticing him now, he did look like he had been... through something. His suit jacket was missing and his waistcoat was unbuttoned, revealing a shirt that housed a few wrinkles. The top few buttons were left undone and his tie was also missing, not to mention the mussed state of his hair.
Disappearing for hours at his sister's wedding and returning looking like he had been dragged across the floor? Hmm...
"Have you seen Mia anywhere?" I couldn't help but ask, since the last time I had checked he had made off with her outside.
He took a sip of his drink, glancing over at Sadie on the dancefloor, and very quickly said, "Nope."
I summoned a drink for myself, keeping my thoughts private. It was no business of mine what Matty got up to, and if he didn't want to talk about it then fair enough. It was suspect though that the both of them seemed to have been preoccupied with other activities during the evening.
He glanced at his watch again. "Their send off should be soon. The photographer is only staying until 11pm."
I nodded, knowing well the coordination of events thanks to Mia, who was currently missing. Once Sadie and Sipho retired for the evening, the venue would be open for another hour before closing and ushering guests home. I had organised a driver and a van big enough to accommodate all of us- excluding Sadie and Sipho who were spending the night at the hotel- back to the house once the festivities had come to an end.
Watching the three girls (and Dom) gyrating to a song in the middle of the dance floor, I wondered when that would be.
As it happened, not for much longer. Soon, I spotted Mia, looking skittish and slightly less put together than earlier, summoning Dom from his ludicrous dance moves. He proceeded to announce the newly wed's send-off, corralling all the wedding guests outside to bid them adieu in an incandescent arch of sparklers and cheers.
The procedure was simple and easier to coordinate than the rest of our party, led by Dom, who appeared averse to ever leaving the dance floor after the departure of the married couple. I was more than a little surprised when Stella came to join me at the table, slumping back in her chair. She was silent, and the jovial expression on her face when she was with her friends was no longer fixed in place. When she met my gaze, there was a solemn tenseness about her that made my chest clench.
"I'm ready to leave," she admitted, sliding her arms around her abdomen and hugging her waist.
"That makes three of us," Matty grumbled, his attention diverted by something- or someone- on the dance floor.
But it was Stella's words that I focused on, as if every fibre of my body was homed to fixate on her and her alone. The dejection I read in her body language made something dark and fierce surge within me and I fought off the urge to draw her against the warmth of my body. "We can leave," I told her. "There is a car booked and ready for us."
Which was true- the driver would simply be making two trips that evening should Stella agree.
And to my surprise, she nodded. "Let me go tell the others we're leaving," she said, then hopped to her feet once more and walked back onto the dancefloor. She murmured something to Dom, who stopped his moonwalk and jerked his head in my direction to pin me with a sharply discerning look. He said something to her in return, shook his head, and then was herding all three women - Bray, Mia and Stella- in my direction.
It appeared the rest of the gang were ready to depart, which worked out fine in my books. We said our goodbyes to some of the last stragglers that remained at the party, and to Matty who was also taking his leave. Once they were all hustled from the venue and into the van, the drive back to the house was less than fifteen minutes. The conversation during the drive was subdued, perhaps the events of the day and the evening having finally levelled everyone with a weariness that was hard-earned.
In front of me, Stella rested her temple on the window of the van, her shoulders sagging. She was reserved and silent for the entirety of the drive. Observing her, knowing that she too shared in the pain I felt, made me long to comfort her, to speak with her, to curl my body around hers and absorb that pain as my own.
I hate this- I hate how things stood between us, and I didn't know what I could do to fix it- if there was any way to. I wanted her to be alright, to know that she was handling everything OK.
Other than for the solar lights that lit up the driveway, the house was dark and quiet when we pulled up the drive. Dom and I settled the fee of the driver and the car while the other women entered the house. I turned towards the front door once the car had pulled away and the gate had closed, my eyes drawn to the staircase visible from the main entrance foyer. I wanted to check in on her, the way she was hugging her waist and the sadness in her eyes consuming me. No one else would know she was hurting- Stella didn't like showing people the dark parts of herself, and I knew she would be dealing with this alone.
I took one step towards the house, my foot crunching on the gravel as I headed towards the front steps, but my way was blocked.
By a huge chest covered in a white formal shirt that was stretched taut over bulging pectoral muscles and biceps.
Dom crossed his arms, his stance wide, a warning flashing from the depths of his silver-tinged gaze and slashing deep furrows in his brow.
"Just go to bed, Killian."