The entire point of the invitation? They wanted me broken!
For forty minutes, I stood in the shower, letting the heat wash across my shoulders to try to steady my hands.
Not even Hollywood could have done the scene justice, there were no background sounds in my head as the rented black SUVs drove through the gates of the Montgomery mansion. The air smelt like thousands of expensive, white roses and the fear of guilt made me want to throw up. It dawned on me what I was doing – shielding myself behind my children’s backs, and the realization made me feel about as small as Eleanor Montgomery had always claimed I was.
The green dress felt tight around my ribs and made breathing difficult. Diamond earrings, bought just to spite someone, weighed heavily around my ears. When I stretched my hand behind me to take Caleb’s, it was slick with sweat.
“Mama, my neck is pricking,” said Noah, yanking at his stiff collar.
“I know, honey. Only a few more minutes. Don’t take off your shoes. Okay?” My own voice came out reedy and weak.
Going through the door and out to the lawn didn’t feel like a slow-motion triumph. It was a dizzy rush of angry faces, a sharp cry by one of the women near the champagne fountain, and then the excruciating snap of glass breaking in a shattering mess right above our heads on the stone deck. I didn’t look up to see the expression on Eleanor’s face. If I did, she would either scare me back into being too nervous to do what I needed to do or reduce me to tears in front of three hundred people from her social circle.
By the time Ethan managed to get himself down the stairs, he certainly didn’t resemble any sort of Prince Charming. He just looked older than I knew him. He had put on a few pounds on the face, particularly his cheeks. There was a noticeable slump in his shoulders, like a burden he could not name. The silence in the room certainly did not feel good; rather, it felt heavy and very public and extremely embarrassing. And then finally, looking at the three children with their same recognizable brow line, he asked, “Are they mine?”
“Yes,” I replied, as my mouth felt very dry.
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