The Rehearsals Page 7

  He knew.

  “You and Leo.”

  Megan nodded, terrified this was finally happening and furious she hadn’t had the guts to make it happen before now.

  “For how long?” His voice was low, a growl rumbling underneath, as though he were trying not to cry or had just been screaming.

  She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eye as she gathered her thoughts, trying to guess how Tom had found out. What had she missed when she left the dinner? “Just the one time, Tom, I swear. It was eight years ago and I am so, so sorry I didn’t—”

  “You expect me to believe it was one time when he just told me he’s in love with you?”

  He rubbed his right hand, which appeared red and swollen. Oh God. He’d punched Leo. “All those times you begged out of hanging out with us when he was in town, all those times you hollered ‘Hello’ rather than talk to him on the phone, it was because you two were secretly messaging and meeting and whispering, disregarding my—”

  “No.” Missouri aside, Megan felt a desperation to make things right that pushed her across the room. She needed Tom to know she was telling the truth. She took his hands in hers, searched his eyes for some fragment of them.

  The very first time Tom and Megan had kissed was on their first official date. After weeks of hanging out, trying not to let their casual touches linger—trying to keep things between them breezy, featherweight, even though everything inside of each of them said, This is the one—Tom had invited her out for dinner. A proper dinner at a charming Mexican restaurant with a margarita menu longer than the entrée options. Megan knew she was already falling in love with him. They’d drunk enough tequila to feel bold (the server hadn’t even bothered to ask for ID) and took a meandering walk through the streets of Cambridge. They stopped on a little bridge that looked like something Monet might paint if he had attended an Ivy League school. Megan touched Tom’s chest because she couldn’t keep not touching his chest. He touched her cheek so softly because she knew he was tired of not touching her cheek. And then he’d said, “Please, may I?” and she’d said, “What are you waiting for?” and the kiss that she felt like she’d traveled every mile between Montana and Massachusetts to experience finally happened.

  Megan’s eyes welled at the memory.

  “I swear to you. I swear it was a stupid mistake that happened once. I had no idea he was trotting the globe while still having feelings for me—or believing he did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but the reason I didn’t tell you was that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.” Tom refused to meet her eye. “I didn’t see the point in hurting you unnecessarily for something that happened when we were twenty-two and would never happen again.”

  For a split second, he seemed to be softening, but then he threw off her hands and strode to the window. She could see the rigidity in his shoulders. He whipped around with a tremble in his jaw. “It’s bad enough that you cheated, but why did it have to be with him? And if I wasn’t good enough—if I’m not good enough, then why are we even doing this?”

  His fury ignited her own.

  “Hold on there. I’m not the only one who’s made mistakes. What about this move to Missouri? I can’t believe you went behind my back, Tom. When were you going to tell me? When the moving truck arrived? I’m so sick of not getting a say in anything. Like you think I can’t be trusted to make decisions about my own life.”

  “You can’t be trusted,” Tom spat. “You and Leo proved that.”

  Her rage braided itself with her shame, with the fear he was right. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t ever voiced her frustrations about John and Carol? She’d given up the right to demand anything from Tom when she’d slept with his best friend. Her guilt about Leo had made just as many of her choices for her as Tom’s parents had.

  “That’s low and you know it,” Megan whispered. “You can weaponize my mistake or you can own up to the fact that when it comes to your family, you just roll over. We’re leaving New York City and you didn’t have the decency to even consult me. How dare you.”

  “I…” Tom had no response. Whether it was out of the pain of facing the truth or because he didn’t want to waste his breath continuing this argument, Megan didn’t know.

  The faint clanking of ancient pipes broke the silence. It carried on until Megan’s adrenaline drained away, replaced with a fatigue so deep, she thought she’d drown in it. She’d almost forgotten there was still a rehearsal dinner going on just outside their window.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he finally said.

  “You weren’t supposed to tell me! You were supposed to ask. To talk to me about it. What about my life in New York? My work? My friends? Did that even occur to you?”

  “I thought you could switch departments and work remotely for a while,” he mumbled. And then his eyes grew vicious again. “But all that is irrelevant, isn’t it? Because I might have taken a job without consulting you, but you slept with my best friend.”

  Lightning flashed and thunder cracked outside. She waited for the accompanying rain to start hitting the windowpanes but heard nothing. The thunderstorm passed as quickly as it had started.

  The silence that followed became a planet between them, with its own gravity and atmosphere. It expanded into a galaxy until fear and weariness, fury and despair, gave way to the numbness of practical matters.

  “The guests,” she began quietly, too tired to formulate more than fragmented thoughts. “Our families. The rehearsal dinner. The wedding.”

  Tom paused for so long, Megan thought he might come and hold her. Might try to make things better. But when the pause was over, it ended with a terrible blow.

  “This isn’t a wedding.” Tom’s eyes flickered with bottomless anger and hurt. “This is a fucking funeral.”

  His words took the wind out of her. “Are you saying…”

  “I’m calling it off.” Tom spoke the words with more finality than she’d ever heard before.

  The first time Tom kissed Megan was on an enchanted bridge during a time when magic felt real. Possible. They’d reached for each other because every molecule within them needed to.

  And now, in a dimly lit suite overlooking the ocean and her grandparents’ boat, Happy Accident, Megan realized Tom would never kiss her again. She didn’t touch his chest because she couldn’t. He didn’t touch her cheek because he didn’t seem to want to. He grabbed the suit jacket he’d thrown in his fury and walked out the door.

  Gone.

  She clutched her stomach, winded from the brutal exchange. Corrosive tears burned down her cheeks, marking every hurt she’d kept to herself for the past twelve years. Every time Tom’d aligned himself with his parents rather than her. Every time he’d kept his mouth shut when they’d insulted her family. Because if she could only admit it, sleeping with Leo had felt less like a betrayal and more like payback. A betrayal for a betrayal.

  She crawled into bed and pushed her face into the pillow, her professionally applied makeup staining the white hotel linens; sleep eventually overtook her. There was a part of Megan’s subconscious that wished morning would never come.

  Day

  2

  Chapter Eight

  Megan

  Begin as you mean to go on.

  The words came to mind before Megan could stop them. Before she could block memories of New Year’s Eves and a future that was over before it had begun.

  The only thing worse than a hangover from too much drinking was a hangover from a life-changing fight. Her head pounded. Her heart was shattered.

  She must’ve fallen asleep in the midst of her tears, and if she didn’t get a hold of herself, she knew they’d start again.

  This had been the second night in a row she’d gone to bed without Tom. It occurred to Megan that every night from now on, she’d be going to bed without him.

  The first time Megan and Tom had slept together was a couple of weeks after their first kiss. He’d invited her to one of his family’s properties. He’
d called it a beach house, but it felt like a palace. That was when she’d first realized Tom came from money, a bit of trivia that seemed so irrelevant. What drew her to Tom was his kindness, the way he felt rooted. He was intellectually sharp but didn’t lord it over anyone. He had a great sense of humor but never tried to grab the spotlight. He seemed to see everything she liked about herself and brush away everything she hated. She felt like the enhanced version of Megan when she was with him.

  That first night at the beach house, they’d cooked dinner; he learned just how hopeless she was in the kitchen and put her in charge of pouring the wine and objectifying him. For dessert, they dipped cream puffs in melted Belgian chocolate. A few bites in and they could no longer keep their hands off each other.

  The first time with Tom had been sensual but also peppered with soft laughter and a bit of fumbling. They were both eighteen, neither of them terribly experienced; she’d been his first, and he’d been her first-ish.

  To her, it was perfect. After he ensured she climaxed, they stayed wrapped up in each other and she thought, This is someone I can tell all my secrets to.

  But then she’d kept a secret. And now, because of it, this morning she’d have to tell everyone the wedding was off—her family, the guests, the wedding planner. Humiliation and devastation roiled through her.

  Above all else, this was the first day in twelve years she’d have to face without knowing Tom was hers. He’d ripped himself from her so suddenly, it felt like a violent act.

  She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face everything. She was just pulling the pillow over her head when she heard that faint beep of the key card.

  Tom.

  She sat bolt upright in bed, surprised to note that at some point last night, she’d put on her pajamas, a pair of striped shorts and a tank top.

  Instead of Tom, Donna Givens burst into the room. If Tom had told her the news, she seemed to be taking it rather well.

  “I’ve heard Amazon can deliver same day, but every dress I’ve looked at says it ships in one to two weeks.” Donna placed one hand on the small of her back and pressed the other against her chest.

  Megan froze. “Didn’t we…”

  Donna’s demeanor indicated she hadn’t heard about Megan and Tom’s fight the night before. If she had, she’d be throwing things by now, accusing Megan of ruining both her own and Donna’s futures.

  “Didn’t we what?” Donna snapped. “Are you listening? I need a new dress.”

  It took Megan a minute to connect the dots. She was talking about a new dress for today. That was it. Because of course her mother suddenly wanted to get another new dress for the wedding. Odd that she’d brought up Amazon again, though.

  Except…

  Megan looked back down at her pajamas. There was no way she’d put them on last night. She rubbed at her eyelashes. No mascara. There was also no way she’d washed her face before bed. Maybe she’d cried the mascara off?

  She gave her mother the once-over. She was in the same dramatic pose as yesterday, wearing the same blue blouse with the same scarf around her neck. And there was definitely no way she’d repeat an outfit in front of Carol. None of this made any sense. And if it didn’t make any sense…

  “It was a dream,” Megan mumbled, her heart speeding up. That was the only logical explanation. She tried to remember the previous night…not the rehearsal dinner and awful fight, but the actual night before, when she’d arrived at the island and unpacked her suitcase and happily gone to bed. It felt far away.

  She shook off the feeling, because if the rehearsal dinner and the whole day leading up to it had been a dream, that meant there’d been no fight and there’d be no surprise move to Missouri.

  Most important, that meant the wedding was still on.

  A grin broke out across her face. Megan felt she could cry from relief. Tom still loved her. They would still have their life together. Imperfect though it was, they’d gotten through a dozen years together. That was longer than almost all of her mother’s relationships combined.

  She knew Tom’s heart perhaps better than she knew her own. He would always try to do the right thing, always cherish her and try to make her laugh when she got bogged down. Their relationship had its complications, but there was so much good in it. Looking back on what she and Tom had built together, starting when they were only kids, filled Megan with pride.

  Sure, there had been mistakes…

  Swatting away guilty, insoluble thoughts of Leo and the dream version of her that he had asked to run away with him, Megan embraced the chance to make her rehearsal-dinner day the one she’d actually wanted. Her subconscious had kindly created a worst-case scenario, preparing her better than all her spreadsheets and to-do lists combined. She knew now that if Tom learned about Leo, it wouldn’t alleviate her guilt. It would soil everything, steal her future with him. She wouldn’t let that happen.

  “What was a dream?” Donna asked.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Megan got out of bed, shoved her cold toes into the hotel slippers, went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

  While she got ready, Donna yelled at her through the door in a vaguely British accent, “I see Tom hasn’t even arrived yet from his oh so crucial client dinner?”

  “You’re being English again,” Megan said through a mouthful of toothbrush.

  “I need something to wear to the rehearsal dinner tonight,” Donna told her, then paused. “You can see Gran and Granddad’s boat from here.”

  “I know.” Her subconscious had done an impeccable job.

  “Cheer me up, Moopy,” Donna prodded, tapping lightly on the bathroom door.

  Megan swung it open, digging deep for the patience required to parent her own mother. “If you don’t feel comfortable with your dress, why don’t we go to Friday Harbor and see if we can find something you like better?”

  “That’s a splendid idea.” Donna kissed Megan’s forehead. “I’m going to dash off and invite your sister to go with us.”

  In her dream, she’d put on the heart pendant and met Tom at the ferry dock. But she didn’t want to do things the same way; it seemed like bad luck.

  If she were being truly honest, the dream made her a bit afraid to see Tom. The fight they’d had might not have been real, but it still contained truths she didn’t want to face. Not right now. Not during what should be one of the best weekends of her life.

  Instead, she sent Tom a text telling him she’d leave the rental-car keys in their hotel room and that she couldn’t wait to see him later.

  Since she’d dug it out specifically for this weekend, she still put on the necklace, then set out to grab breakfast at the market before meeting her mom and sister. At least this time she had no reason to seek out Carol.

  It was a beautiful morning, warm with a hint of crispness. Megan inhaled the sea air as she took in the sights of the morning: the children in pajamas holding hands with their grown-ups walking across the docks to the showers. Oddly enough, the coffee vendor looked familiar, as did the woman who sold her the scone. Or perhaps her dream was getting fuzzier the more awake she felt.

  She took her time, weaving through the booths, sipping slowly as she watched boaters wake and cook breakfast on their stern grills. This was her happy place. For the hundredth time, she was filled with a sweet serenity that, despite all the wedding details the Prescotts pushed for—and offered to pay for—they’d at least agreed to hold everything in the place closest to her heart.

  As much as she wanted to spend the morning cloaked in this quiet comfort, she knew it was time to head up to the hotel lobby.

  “Megan, darling, I just got word that the wedding rehearsal isn’t going to be held this afternoon. When do you intend to have it? After dinner? That sounds terribly inconvenient.”

  The voice was coming from behind her. Megan turned to see Carol’s pinched face. Again. No, not again, she told herself. That was a dream.

  “Good morning, Carol!” Megan smiled tight
ly, her heart pounding. “Yes, there was a scheduling conflict with the hotel, but the wedding planner said we could skip the rehearsal—he’ll make sure we’re all in the right places at the right time.”

  “Mmm. Anyway, what are you doing here? I’m sure you have a thousand details you should be checking on.”

  “I was just enjoying a bit of quiet time before diving into all those details.” Megan tamped down her effusiveness. “This place is so gorgeous.”

  “It is lovely,” Carol agreed. “Shame it takes two planes and a ferry to get here.”

  A prickling crawled up the back of Megan’s neck as Carol’s gaze traveled down. “What’s on your feet, dear? Are those the hotel slippers?”

  This was déjà vu, that was all. Wasn’t that what déjà vu really was? Something you’d experienced in a dream that coincidentally occurred in real life? “No, these are just some sandals I brought.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  “Mmm.” Carol wrinkled her nose as though Megan had broken wind, just as she had in the dream. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’d rearranged the seating at tonight’s dinner so my tennis friends could sit a bit closer to John and me.”

  “Yes. I took care of it.” Megan’s heart beat erratically. This was wedding jitters, that was all. Though the explanation didn’t quite make sense, she tried to convince herself it did.

  “Good girl.” Carol air-kissed Megan on each cheek as she said goodbye.

  Chapter Nine

  Tom

  Tom Prescott was sleeping so deeply, he was as good as dead. The startling bellow of a foghorn blaring directly into his ear brought him back to life.

  He jolted awake, clamping one hand over his pounding heart. The garbled noise of a vaguely familiar voice was welcoming him to Friday Harbor. Tom’s eyes felt like sandpaper when they were closed and even worse when he opened them. He instinctively reached for his eye drops and found them in a plastic baggie—the same one he’d put them in for airport security—in the pocket of a suit he knew he hadn’t been wearing at the end of yesterday.