The Wedding Agreement (22 page)

“I mean with the fake-happy act you have going on.”

She huffed. “It's not fake. You said you wanted to go back to how we were before. So that's what I'm doing.”

“I'm pretty sure we could maintain eye contact before. I also think we didn't need to pretend to be happy to see one another.”

Cass flipped a piece of hair behind her shoulder. “Okay, fine. So I thought I'd try to fake it until I could make it. Guess I'm a shitty actress.”

“You
are
a shitty actress. Which is how I know that you felt more for me than friendship.”

“So?”

Alex spluttered. He hadn't expected her to admit it. “So? What do you mean, ‘so'? That's important. Because I feel that about you too.”

“I
felt
more. Past tense. Now that I've had some distance and time to think, I can see what those feelings really were with more clarity. I got swept up in the fairy tale. I forgot myself for a little while. We were spending all of our time together. Of course we got confused.”

“I'm not confused.”

Cass laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Oh, come on, Alex. We were faking an engagement, fabricating an entire life. It makes sense that we'd get caught up in that. But the charade is coming to an end, and we need to come back down to reality if we have any hope of salvaging a friendship.”

“I don't want a friendship. I want you—
us
. Cass, I know I screwed up—on so many levels. The things I said in those e-mails, I said them because I was mad
at
myself
, not at you. I didn't mean any of it. I just . . .” Alex felt like he was talking so rapidly, he wasn't sure if Cass could understand what he was trying to say. He took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes making contact with hers as he spoke. “You were right. I was making the same mistakes I made with Tessa all over again. I don't want to do that. I want this to be different. I want
us
to be different.” Alex reached his hand across the table, but Cass didn't take it. “Please. Just give me a chance.”

Cass dropped her gaze to the table. “You had a chance, Alex.” And with Cass' words, any hope of repairing what he'd broken disappeared completely. “I know it's going to be hard to break the news to Nina,” she continued. “I can be there if you want—if you think it'll make it easier—so she knows that we may not be getting married, but she can still count on me to be around. You're her dad. I defer to you to decide what's best.” Cass blurted out her little speech like she'd prepared it in advance. He was sure she had. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she exclaimed as she dug into her purse. “I figured you'd want this back.” She slid the ring he'd bought her across the table.

Alex was stunned. Seeing the ring passed to him like the prop she clearly thought it was hurt. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Return it? Sell it? You're out a lot of money for the other stuff we booked. I figured you should make some back where you can.”

“I don't care about the money.”

Cass looked at him, holding his gaze for the first time since she'd walked in. Then she blinked, seemingly shaking off whatever had been running through her mind. “Well you should. Our fake wedding isn't worth going broke over.”

He wanted to disagree. Wanted to tell her that maybe the fake wedding wasn't worth it, but the
real
feelings they'd shared were worth more than anything. But there was nothing more he could say. Because it had all been tainted now. The things they'd said and done couldn't be taken back. Their relationship was over. And fuck if it didn't break his heart.

*   *   *

Alex sat at his kitchen table, his body slumped and his hands supporting his head. He was about to do the very thing that he'd been dreading since all of this had started—the very thing that he would've had to do anyway. Only it seemed harder than he imagined it would be. Maybe because, for a brief moment in time, he'd thought he wouldn't have to tell Nina that the wedding was off. He'd put off telling her for three weeks after his lunch with Cass, hoping like hell there was still a chance for them and she'd come around. Because at one point, he and Cass hadn't been just fake fiancés. They'd been something else. Something more. They'd been
something
.

But then he'd gone and fucked up everything that
could have been
. And now all that was left was what
was
. And as he ascended the stairs and leaned against Nina's doorframe, watching her paint her nails peacefully, the last thing he wanted to do was disrupt that peace. From the moment she was born, all Alex had tried to do was love her with everything he had, protect her from anything that could hurt her.

And now he'd be the one causing the hurt. And no amount of love could counteract that. At least not right now.

Nina was sitting on the floor, her head down as she carefully brushed the purple nail polish over her toes. It was the same polish Cass had used when
she'd painted them. “Hey, Daddy,” she said happily, her head turning up toward him.

“Hey,” he replied. He could hear how broken his voice already sounded, and he cleared his throat to try to correct it. He entered her room cautiously, as if his presence alone might shatter the happiness he'd worked so hard to maintain. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Nina put the nail polish down on her small plastic table and took a seat in the chair that went with it. “Sure. Is it about going horseback riding?” It was the only thing Nina had asked to do in the summer that they hadn't done. So he'd promised her they'd go at some point in the fall, now that Nina was back with Tessa and he had her only three weekends a month.

Alex pulled out the other chair and took a seat. The tiny piece of furniture beneath him was another reminder of just how fragile children were. His body felt huge in comparison, like his weight alone might crush it. It could. “No,” he said. “I didn't come to talk about horseback riding. I need to talk to you about the wedding.” He figured it would be better to just get to it than to drag things out any longer than necessary. And though Cass had offered to be here for this, he knew this was something he needed to do himself. He snuck a glance at his daughter, and she looked concerned.

“What about it?” she asked.

Alex leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly and resting his forearms on his thighs. His thumb massaged the palm on his other hand nervously as he spoke. “We decided not to have the wedding, honey. Cass and I . . . We talked about it, and we think it's better if we don't have a wedding . . . if
we don't . . .” his chest tightened and his voice trailed off, but he was able to recover it. “We thought it would be best if we don't get married.”

Though he wanted to look away, bring his gaze anywhere but to Nina's, he didn't dare avert his eyes. This wasn't about him. It was about his daughter, who was now an innocent victim in another one of his failed relationships. Again. He swallowed hard, waiting for Nina to say something. Anything.

There was an uncomfortable silence before she finally spoke. “I don't get it,” she said, shaking her head in confusion.

Alex wasn't sure if her response was the only one she could think of or if she was actually unsure of what was happening. He reached across the table and touched her hand gently, but just as quickly as he'd touched it, she jerked it away.

Nina's posture deflated. “Cass isn't going to live here then?”

Alex shook his head. “No, but she'll still be around. She'll still—”

“But she won't be my other mom anymore?” Alex could hear the anger starting to come out in Nina's voice, and he didn't try to stop it. He was sure it was only masking her pain.

That's when he realized why all of this would be so difficult for Nina to accept. It always made Alex proud when he thought about how smart, how perceptive, his daughter was. But not this time. He wished Nina hadn't realized the implications of what the wedding cancellation meant. She didn't just think of Cass as someone she hung out with, someone she had fun with from time to time. She'd begun to think of her as a mother. “No,” was all he could say in
response, and he'd said it so softly, he wondered if Nina had even heard him.

Nina jumped up suddenly, the chair she'd been sitting in falling back behind her. “So you and
Cass
just decided this?” She said Cass' name in disgust, and it only furthered his guilt. Cass had only been trying to help, but she'd now likely carry more than her share of the blame.

He nodded.

Nina's eyes reddened until they nearly matched the color that her face had turned in anger. “So when do
I
get to decide?” she asked, a few tears falling from her eyes. Alex wanted to wipe them away, but he knew he probably shouldn't try to touch her again. “When do I get to talk about what happens? You and Mommy decided you didn't want to be married anymore, and you didn't ask me what I wanted then either!” Nina was yelling now, her body nearly shaking in what Alex was sure was a cocktail of emotions: hurt, frustration, anger, and sadness. “And now you decide that you don't want to be married to Cass either. What about what I want? When do I get to tell you what
I
want?”

Nina was waving her hand around frantically, tears flowing freely from her eyes. Alex couldn't take it any longer. He reached out to grab her and pulled her tightly to him in a protective hug. “It's okay. It'll be okay.” Alex said the words, but he wasn't sure he meant them.

“Don't touch me!” Nina screamed, spilling the nail polish onto the rug when she knocked into the table.

Her fists smacked hard against Alex's chest. But he didn't let go. It only made him want to hold her tighter.
“I'm sorry” was all he could manage. He was crying now too. Not to the extent that Nina was, but he felt the salt stinging his eyes as he tried to blink back tears. But he was too late. A few had already fallen. And something told him they weren't just for Nina, but for everything they had all lost. “I'm so sorry,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say.

“No, you're not! You only think about yourself. You only think about what
you
want.
You
didn't want to get married, so now you're not. But I wanted to be your flower girl. I wanted to wear the pretty dress Cass got for me, and I wanted us to be—”

“You can still wear your dress, Nina. I promise. We'll get dressed up and I'll take you out. Just you and me, baby.” He could hear how desperate he sounded. He was pleading with her now, begging her to give him any indication that he didn't just break her heart completely.

Nina pushed away from him, and this time Alex loosened his grip enough for her to escape it. He knew there was nothing he could say or do in that moment that was going to make her feel better. He just needed to let her process things, deal with them in her own way.

With blurry vision, he watched his daughter storm across the room toward the door. But before she walked out, Nina turned back to him one last time. “I don't want it to be just you and me,” she said quietly. And just like that, Nina's heart wasn't the only one that was broken. Before Alex had time to respond, Nina rushed down the stairs.

When he heard the back door slam, he looked toward the window and watched her run into her playhouse. Alex closed his eyes for a moment, defeat spreading through every inch of his being. When he was finally able to move, he stood. But before he left
Nina's room, he went to her dollhouse, where their little pretend family still remained. He reached in and took out the Barbie doll that Nina had said was Cass, and looked at it for a moment before placing it gently inside Nina's toy box with the others she wasn't using.

Then he looked back at the Ken and Skipper, who remained in the dollhouse alone. “I don't want it to be just us either,” he whispered before turning toward the door and walking away.

Tonality

The month and a half that followed Cass' lunch with Alex made her feel conflicted. On the one hand, they'd agreed to be friends, and that was a good thing. Or at least it should be. But on the other hand, for some reason it didn't feel that way. Instead, it felt . . . maybe “ridiculous” was the word she'd been searching for. Alex wasn't even her ex—at least not in the traditional sense—and things were strained between them. He'd said that he had real feelings for her. And his words had been hard to ignore. But with the echoes of those e-mails still ringing clearly in her ears, it was nearly impossible to believe him.

Nearly.

In the time since their breakup, she'd seen Alex a few times, mostly in passing or out with their whole group. She'd made an effort to act like things weren't different between them, but it proved an impossible
task. And from the way Alex always avoided her eyes, she could tell he was struggling too.

“Cass, you there?”

Lauren's voice pulled Cass from her most recent bout of self-pity, and she adjusted the pillow under her head so she could shift her phone to her other ear. “Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. I was just putting some laundry away.”

Lauren hesitated as if she knew Cass was lying, but thankfully Lauren didn't press her further. “I just think you should consider going to the party. That's all. Just consider it. You and Alex agreed to be friends.”

“I can't even believe he's still having that damn thing. I mean, I know he spent money on it, but we had trouble finding enough people to go when we were inviting people from my side too.” She realized how weddingish “my side” sounded, but she chose to ignore it. “He should just cancel it and save himself the embarrassment.”

“Don't be mean.”

“Oh yeah. He tells his two best friends that I'll never make a good wife or mother and to keep my mouth shut, and
I'm
the mean one.”

“I doubt he said it like that. That doesn't sound like Alex.”

“I should show the e-mails to you sometime, Laur.” Cass sat up and pulled her nightstand drawer open to withdraw the e-mails. She'd deleted them from her in-box, not wanting the memory staring her in the face every day. But she couldn't let herself get rid of them completely. So she'd printed them, thrown them in the drawer, and hadn't looked at them since. “You'd be surprised who the real Alex is. I thought I knew him too.”

“Cass . . .”

“Just leave it alone, Laur.” Cass' voice was more pleading than angry.

Her best friend let out a defeated sigh. “He's miserable without you, Cass.”

“Yeah? Well, he brought that on himself.” Cass huffed out a disgusted laugh through her nose and shook her head. “And
he's
not the only one who's miserable.”

Lauren remained silent on the other end of the phone.

“I'll talk to you later, okay?” Cass knew Lauren would understand when she hung up without waiting for Lauren to say good-bye.

Cass tossed the phone onto the bed and the stack of e-mails followed. She didn't even know why she'd kept them. Memories? Ammunition? A reminder of why she'd chosen the single life over a married one? She had no idea, but she decided that none of it fucking mattered anyway.

She sat on the edge of her bed, closed her eyes, and collapsed her head into her hands. She needed to get past all of this somehow, find a way to maintain a friendship with Alex—if only for Nina's sake—no matter how difficult that might be. Despite how hard she tried to let go, she still couldn't sever the connection she had to the little girl. She missed her. And she wondered if Nina missed her too.

Cass opened her eyes and shifted them to the drawer she'd left open. Next to where the e-mails had been was a picture Cass didn't want to see. But she couldn't help but look at it anyway. She reached in and pulled out the photo Alex had bought for her at the amusement park. The three of them were smiling,
Alex's arm around Cass' waist as he pulled her close to him, his other hand on Nina's shoulder in front of them. Their “beautiful family,” as the woman at the photo counter had said.

But she knew how misleading pictures could be. They are only glimpses into people's lives—snapshots of happy moments that are often, unfortunately, fleeting. It isn't the moments themselves that matter; it's what happens in between those moments that tells the full story. Dealing with the death of a loved one, working your ass off in college, realizing for the first time that who you thought you were isn't who you are at all.
That's
the shit that makes a difference, not some isolated moment when she felt happier than she'd ever felt. Any idiot can stand in front of a roller coaster and say “Cheese.”

Cass ran her thumb over where the frame's glass had shattered. She might have thrown it into her drawer, but she hadn't thrown it away. For whatever reason, she'd felt the need to keep it. She set the picture down next to her and then turned her head back toward the e-mails strewn across her bed.

She gathered them together and with as clear a head as she decided she was ever going to have, she started at the beginning. Lauren had said Cass' paraphrasing didn't sound like Alex. So she had no choice but to look back at the words themselves—try to look at things in a new light. Maybe she and Alex would never be together in the sense that she'd once hoped, but if his words weren't as harsh as she had initially interpreted, then maybe they had a shot at staying friends.

She focused on the first e-mail he'd sent, the one she knew had the most negative tone. Reading with
a lack of bias—a skill she'd learned during her public relations courses—she studied the e-mail closely.

Hmm, let's see. Oh yeah. Cass jumped down my throat last night about being “present” when I'm present or some bullshit like that. I don't need that shit again. And I definitely don't need it from someone who has openly admitted that her job is more important than a family. Where does she get off judging someone's parenting when she's not a parent and doesn't want to be? She doesn't know how hard it is to juggle two full-time jobs because she'll only ever have one. She admits she doesn't have a maternal bone in her body and then she goes and calls me out on how I'm an absent father? Yeah, okay. That makes a lot of fucking sense. She's not a mother, and she'll never be one.

When this whole wedding agreement had begun, she'd been the one giving the lesson on perception. And she was just now realizing that the teacher had become the student. Alex had told her that he'd never said she wouldn't make a good mother, that he actually felt the opposite. He'd said he was just defensive because some of what she'd accused him of was true: just because he was there didn't mean he was present.

Cass let out the breath she'd realized she'd been holding as she reread Alex's words. Though his tone was harsh, Alex was right. He hadn't written that she'd make a poor mother. He'd just said that she wouldn't ever become one. With a clearer head, she could see his intended meaning. Not becoming a mother was
her
decision, not his. It was how she saw
herself
, not how
Alex
saw her.

And as Cass was slowly beginning to realize, Alex was never the one who had doubted her. The only person who'd ever doubted Cass could do something she put her mind to was herself.

And with that thought, she picked the photo back up again, taking one last look at it before she carefully propped the frame up on her nightstand where it had once been. Then she reached for the phone and shot Lauren a simple text.
I'll go.

*   *   *

This had been a bad idea. When Alex had promised to take Nina horseback riding, he'd clearly been so focused on ensuring that she had been excited to spend the summer with him that he'd forgotten one crucial piece of information: he fucking hated horses. The last time he'd been near one was at Tessa's parents' place, and he was still convinced to this day that her father had given Alex's horse meth before letting Alex ride him. The fucker had taken off at a gallop, jumped a fence, and then dumped him in a creek. Of course, Tessa's dad said he'd never behaved that way before, but Alex wasn't buying it. That man had never liked Alex and had clearly tried to kill him that day.

Nina had spent enough time at her grandparents' small farm over the years to have learned how to ride proficiently. Which meant that Alex was told to stay close to the guide while his seven-year-old trotted ahead of them down the trail. The place he'd taken her had initially resisted allowing Nina to ride—their policy prohibited riders under eight—but they'd made an exception when he'd assured them of her riding experience. They'd still made her prove her mettle by having her show command of her horse in an enclosure before allowing her out on the trails.

They hadn't made him prove a damn thing, which was probably a serious oversight on the ranch's part. Despite his anxiety, he still found himself enjoying watching Nina. It had taken them a little while to bounce back from the wedding cancellation. Nina had even asked to go home after he'd broken the news to her. Tessa, thankfully, hadn't asked too many questions. She'd seemed genuinely sad for the loss of Alex's relationship.

“You doing okay up there?” Alex called to Nina.

“Yup,” came the reply.

The trail was beautiful. A stream ran along one side, while the other was covered in thick forest. The foliage had begun to change and swayed softly in the gentle October breeze. It was picturesque, really, and Alex would've tried to snap a shot with his phone if he hadn't been too terrified to take one hand off the reins.

“Keep right,” instructed the guide. “Another group is moving past.”

Alex steered his horse to the right of the trail while holding his breath and praying the horse complied. Once he got the horse where it needed to be, he looked up to see the approaching group. Though as they neared, he guessed “family” would be the more accurate term.

“Mommy, why do we have to go back to camp already?” he heard the little girl ask.

“Because we have to get the fire going again so we can cook the fish you and Daddy caught earlier.”

“Oh yeah,” the girl said with a bright smile.

The woman smiled as she passed. “Excuse us.”

Alex nodded at them before turning his attention back to the trail ahead of him. He saw Nina looking at
the family as they passed, her neck craned around to watch them ride away. She eventually turned so much that her eyes caught Alex's, and she quickly diverted her attention back to the trail. The look on her face broke his heart all over again. She had been watching the family with a kind of longing—a sadness—that reminded him of how badly he'd hurt her.

He knew she missed Cass. He'd seen Cass a few times since she'd called things off with him, and they'd been civil to each other, but he had never chanced bringing Nina with him when he knew Cass would be there. Because while they both tried to act like nothing had changed, the truth couldn't be ignored. Something had been fundamentally broken between them, and he didn't want Nina to have to endure their
pretending
anymore.

Nina's posture atop her horse was slightly rounded now. God, he hated that he'd done this to her. The guide must have noticed—though she probably chalked it up to Nina growing tired—because she suggested they dismount for a few minutes and allow the horses to get a drink. Nina got down, as did Alex, and the guide steered the horses toward the stream. Nina also walked toward the water, picking up some stones on her way, and began throwing them into the stream.

Alex walked up and stood beside her for a moment before speaking. “It's okay to miss her, Nina.”

Nina dropped her hands to her sides. “You said I'd still get to see her sometimes. But I haven't. She just left us.” Nina's chin fell to her chest. “Why doesn't she miss me?”

Alex sank to one knee to look into Nina's eyes. “I'm sure she misses you. It's just . . . She's staying
away because it's difficult for her to see
me
. She left
me
. You aren't the reason she's staying away, sweetie. I am.”

Nina sniffled. “What'd you do?”

Alex sighed. How the hell did he explain this to a seven-year-old? How did he explain it to anyone? “I messed up. I said things I didn't mean, and I hurt Cass' feelings.”

Nina looked up at him. “Did you tell her you're sorry?”

“Yeah, baby. I told her.”

“Didn't she forgive you?” Nina looked like she couldn't imagine not forgiving someone who'd asked for it.

He didn't know what he should say. Alex had no desire to paint Cass in a bad light, but he was also done lying to his little girl. “No. She didn't. Not really.”

Nina pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “You should try again,” she finally said.

“What?”

“Sometimes my friends make me mad. And even if they say they're sorry right away, it doesn't matter. I'm still mad. But after a little while, I miss them and I decide not to be mad anymore. Maybe Cass just needed time to not be mad anymore. Maybe if you said you were sorry again, she'd forgive you.”

Alex kneeled there, trying to figure out how to explain that adult problems were a little more complicated than not wanting to share toys at recess. Finally, he answered with the only truth he had. “I don't know. I'll think about it, okay?”

Nina didn't look happy with his reply, but she nodded anyway and walked back toward her horse. They climbed on and rode the trail a little farther before turning around.

Despite the peaceful landscape, Alex felt anything but at peace. Even though he'd verbally dismissed Nina's advice, his brain couldn't let it go.
Could it really be that simple?
The truth was, Nina wasn't the only one who missed Cass like crazy. Alex woke up thinking about her, went to bed thinking about her, and thought about her off and on throughout his days. Maybe the old adage of time healing all wounds applied here. If there was even the slightest chance that he could fix things, didn't he owe it to all of them to try?