The Wedding Veil(11)
Cornelia smiled. “He seems almost like his old self, doesn’t he?”
Edith nodded, a tremendous weight lifted off her shoulders. He was going to be okay. Her George was going to be fine.
It struck Edith in moments like this, when her daughter was relaxed and casual, bathed in morning light, how lovely she truly was. And the days Cornelia would be Edith’s were fleeting. She would find a proper man. She would marry. It would happen before Edith could turn around, she knew. While she had friends who were endlessly fascinated already with making the perfect match for their daughters, Edith was most interested in keeping Cornelia young as long as she could. “When Daddy gets well, you should take him for a swim in the fountain. He always gets a kick out of that.”
Cornelia smiled brightly. “Or maybe the swimming pool.” After all these years, Cornelia had never given up the idea that her father would learn to swim. But she didn’t know that George had nearly drowned in Rhode Island as a child and, had a teenage girl not come to his rescue, neither of them would be standing in this kitchen right now. Edith found the fountain, where he could comfortably stand, more of a realistic prospect.
Edith looped her arm around her daughter’s as they made their way back up the stairs. Cornelia was George’s greatest work. Well her, and Biltmore, she thought, chuckling to herself. George loved Biltmore and she loved him. And that was why she was working so hard—had already worked so hard—to save his dream.
JULIA Getaway Car
After being blown out, airbrushed, and Spanxed into my fitted lace wedding gown, even I had to admit that I looked amazing. I didn’t really look like me per se. But the woman in front of the mirror looked like she belonged on Hayes’s arm.
Last night, at our rehearsal dinner, I had been that woman. I had laughed at our friends’ toasts, cried at my father’s, and sobbed as Hayes made a speech in my honor so beautiful that I felt as though he didn’t even need to say his wedding vows. I knew he loved me. I was sure of it. And wasn’t that what really mattered?
Now, Sarah, in her maid of honor dress, caught my eye in the mirror. “You look too good in that,” I said. “You aren’t letting me shine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are practically the cover of Marie Claire Weddings.”
I bit my lip.
“What?” she whispered.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
She held up her phone again and, for what had to have been the fiftieth time, we played that grainy video. I’d watched it so many times I could now pinpoint the exact moment Hayes would lean down to the girl he was dancing with—a girl who wasn’t me—and start making out with her like she was his last meal. Oh my God, I thought. She was his last meal.
I started to feel nauseous, the horror of the day before washing over me again. In the mauve and green back room of the church I whispered to Sarah, “Am I an idiot? Do you think he’s lying to me?”
Sarah sighed. “You know, Jules, it’s hard for me because I’ve known Hayes almost as long as I’ve known you. I can’t even imagine a world where you two aren’t together.” She paused. “When you used to walk into parties holding hands, it was like time stopped. The way he would skip class to get you peanut butter M&M’s…”
I smiled and bit my lip. “And remember when he had flowers delivered to AP Bio?”
Sarah smiled. “Oh, I remember. Everyone remembers. He worshipped you, Jules, even then.”
Before I could say anything else, Aunt Alice, in a breathtaking navy gown, burst through the door with Mom and Babs on her heels. “All right!” Aunt Alice trilled. Evidently, the MOB, GOB, and AOB hair and makeup portion of the day was over. I had, in the interest of pretending to be a low-maintenance bride, told my bridesmaids not to come to the church until an hour before the ceremony. But really, I just couldn’t face my friends after yesterday. I knew they were all talking about this, debating whether I was making a mistake. And I knew it came from a good place. Mostly. But I couldn’t handle it.
“It’s time for the first look!” Alice said excitedly.
With their pinned-on fake smiles and particularly high-pitched voices this morning, the effort Alice and Babs were putting into pretending they weren’t horrified I was still going through with this was truly heroic.
“It’s happening!” Mom said, clutching her hands over her heart.
She wasn’t pretending. This was definitely the best day of her life. She loved Hayes. Loved him.
“Do you believe him?” I had asked my mother the day before. Despite the cool mountain air and her sleeveless silk sheath, she had looked uncomfortably close to sweating.
That was when I realized how desperately I wanted to believe him.
“One hundred percent,” Mom had said so firmly I was almost convinced. “There isn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t kill for a man who loved her like Hayes loves you.”
Those words rang in my head now as I was about to make what was either the best or worst decision of my life.
Mom always took Hayes’s side. She loved him. Who didn’t? He was gorgeous and cool; he was brilliant. He smelled like Irish Spring and Old Spice and had rows of straight white teeth. He had a great job, impeccable manners, and while his choice in friends left a little to be desired, we could not keep away from each other. We had a sort of electric spark that, even after all these years, made it impossible to walk away. We had tried.