Page 85 of The Fool
My eyes follow the direction of where his finger is pointing, right over to an empty chair that is sitting directly next to the mother of the groom.
For fuck’s sake, Emma!Your husband has just asked me to run away with him and you’ve gone and put me in front of everyone on the top freaking table!
“Oh, God,” I whisper, to which Ben grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
I frown at him before plastering on a fake smile for my family and slowly walking over to the table. I’m gifted with a smile from Dean’s mother, who was always nice enough, though this doesn’t make it any less awkward. Before sitting down, I pick up my little name card just to double-check this is my place. Sure enough, the word ‘Bea’ is there, written clearly in cursive script.
“Beatrice, dear,” Pearl says to me when I reluctantly perch on top of my chair. “I haven’t seen you in years, honey, how are you?”
“I’m good, thank you, Mrs Spencer,” I reply, giving her a genuine smile, for she strangely makes me feel comforted. There are plenty of worse people I could be sitting with right now. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good, dear,” she says as she unfolds her napkin to place on top of her lap. “But call me Pearl, Bea,” she says with her hand resting on top of my arm, “I always did enjoy seeing you when you were with Dean.”
Her words have me shuffling uncomfortably inside my seat, and with flashes of being told about the miscarriage coming to the forefront of my mind to add to my guilt. When I look up at her again, I can see her studying me with a soft smile on her face.
“You know what, Beatrice? I always thought you were very beautiful,” she says, causing me to blush with embarrassment. “You never needed any makeup or revealing clothes to catch Dean’s eye,” she says, gesturing to my ridiculous dress at the same time as I pull it up over my chest again. We giggle for a moment or two before she leans in to whisper to me. “He was an idiot to let you go, my darling girl.”
“Thank you, Pearl, that’s really sweet of you, but –"
“But we’re at your sister’s wedding and that kind of talk isn’t really appropriate, given the circumstances,” she says with a wink.
As the meal continues, Pearl and I fall into neutral topics of conversation, such as my job, Dean’s work, and her and Mr Spencer’s retirement plans. We don’t stop talking until we’re silenced by the sound of a spoon chinking against glass, announcing the commencement of the speeches. In other words, my cue to stop listening. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what was going on while I switched off to everything and everyone around me. I just knew I couldn’t bear to listen to Dean spout out a load of lies after he just asked me to run off with him. However, what happens next tells me I probably should have been paying some sort of attention.
“And now we have Bea, Emma’s sister,” a voice chirrups, interrupting my daydreaming.
Suddenly a microphone is shoved in front of me, and I notice everyone is staring at me as I lazily lean against my hand. I look up with a questioning frown, wondering why the hell all the faces on the top table are looking at me with expectation. When I make no move to take the microphone, Dad performs his own form of sign language in the hopes that I’ll take it and give a speech I have in no way prepared for. I look at it like it’s a loaded gun before reluctantly clasping my hand around the thing; it feels unnaturally heavy.
“Stand up, Bea,” Dad whispers with a hint of urgency.
Grimacing over the thought of public speaking, and with nothing to say, I reluctantly and slowly stand, automatically pulling down the hem of my ridiculous dress. I glance over the sea of faces, all looking at me for words of love and well wishes for the happy couple. A third of them are smiling with pity, a third are whispering to their friends, and the other third is looking at me as though I’m nuts.
“Er…hi,” I say as I breathe out nervously, only to hear a couple of people laughing at the back. I notice Ben looking around, trying to see who it is, and with his fists at the ready. “First off, thanks to Emma for not warning me about having to make a speech.” More of the crowd laugh, including Emma. “Secondly, I have nothing prepared, so I guess I’m going to have to ramble at you all for a bit.”
Again, people laugh over my rather awkward situation.
“So, Emma is my little sister,” I begin, even moving forward so I can gormlessly point out the obvious with my finger. “And Dean is…well, the less said about that the better.” Thankfully, people laugh about that one, none more so than Ben who is now shaking his head at me. “I thought…I thought I had love once. It was new and exciting, and I was so young and naïve that I thought, yes, this is it; this is what grownups feel when they’re in love.”
I pause while I try to think of what to say next without upsetting anyone and without letting it slip that Dean is having second thoughts about his new bride.
“But when I think about it, it wasn’t real love at all. It wasn’t a love that stood the test of time, a love that makes you laugh every single day or even a love that is built on trust and loyalty. But that’s ok because it helped me realize what real love should be like. I love my brother for always being there for me, even though he calls me ‘brat’ and I call him ‘ass face’.” I pause to look at Ben, to see the smile spread across his face. “I love my parents for trying to keep all of us children in check, even when we’ve fallen out with each other. And even though we’ve been through a lot, I love my sister.” I turn to see her looking up at me in shock. “I do, Emma. I know we’ve had a few rough years, but I love you for being brave enough to reach out to me. That really took guts.”
Embarrassingly, I realize I now have tears in my eyes, as does she. Within moments, she is out of her chair and grabbing onto me for dear life. Of course, there’s a soft chorus of ‘ahh’ from the crowd but after the initial shock of it, I only hear her quietly crying inside of my ear.
When she finally releases me and returns to her seat, I catch Dean glaring at me with an unreadable expression and a pale complexion. Choosing not to read into his staring, I turn back to face the front so I can finish my little speech.
“I’m also madly, stupidly, and deeply in love with my boyfriend, who unfortunately isn’t here right now.” I smirk at Ben, who is now rolling his eyes at me. “He makes me laugh all the time, protects me, and is so loyal to everyone he cares about. With him, I’ve finally learned to trust again.” I look at Ben and he smiles, which only makes me beam with pride. “Kind of feels a bit weird telling you all before I’ve even told him. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hope my baby sister feels this way about her new husband, and I hope Dean knows what he’s got; he truly is a lucky guy.”
Most of the audience clap and shout words of agreement but my focus is on Dean. He knows that last part was more for him than it was for Emma. After a moment of staring back at me, he forces a fake smile on his face, though he still looks like he could throw up at any second.
After I’m convinced that Dean knows where I stand on the issue, I turn away to sip my champagne. It’s then that I see the six-foot-three muscular frame of Nate leaning up against the door frame of the dining hall entrance. Butterflies flutter inside of my stomach at the same time as he plasters on a seductive smile and begins to applaud my speech. When my glass begins to slip from my hand, and I end up making a spectacle of myself by trying to catch it, he begins laughing at me. I look so ridiculous, I eventually give up and laugh with him, conceding to my humiliation in front of the guy who now has a small audience of bridesmaids gawping and whispering over the infamous Nathaniel Carter turning up at Emma’s wedding.
Thankfully, I was the last person to make their speech, so the dining hall descends into chatting and laughter while the guests finish off their teas and coffees. Some people are beginning to get up and walk outside with their drinks, giving the staff room to change the reception into a dance floor for later.
“That was a lovely speech, honey,” Dad leans forward to tell me. “Especially as it was…er…off the cuff?”
“Completely,” I reply honestly. I’m playing with the serviette in front of me, wondering whether to go over to Nate or to pretend the humiliation I’ve just lived through was entirely imagined.
“Beatrice?” a low, baritone voice says from beside me. His presence forces me to take an extra-long breath before letting it out in a long stream. I’ve closed my eyes to all the faces now staring at us, which only intensifies the tingling sensation inside of my chest.