CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | CASSIDY
DING-DONG!
I was taking a shower when I heard the chime of the doorbell echo through the empty walls of the house. I was home alone -- Dad had taken Mom to a follow-up appointment with Doctor Burke, and that meant there was nobody else around to answer the door but me.
Who could it be? I wondered as I leaned into the stream of steamy water and rinsed the sudsy shampoo out of my hair. Mailman? Window salesman? Door-to-door missionary?
Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll go away… I thought. Then I heard the doorbell chime a second time.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Must be important… but what could it be?
I twisted off the shower taps and reached for the towel rack. I buried my face in the cotton bath towel and rubbed at my eyes until my vision was speckled with stars. Then I wrapped my damp hair into a towel-turban and pulled on my fluffy pink bathrobe.
The doorbell rang again as I padded down the stairs.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I called.
My feet were still wet from the shower, and my footsteps left a trail of watery half-moons as I tiptoed across the wooden foyer floor towards the front door.
I could see the outline of a man standing on the front porch through the panel of decorative glass in the door. His figure was abstract and distorted by the pattern in the textured glass, but I could see the fuzzy shape of shoulders and arms. Where his head should have been, there was a giant plume of something bright red.
I unbolted the deadlock and opened the door, and I immediately found myself staring into a massive arrangement of bright red roses.
“I’ve got a delivery for a Mrs. Lah-rant,” a strained voice grunted from somewhere behind the bouquet.
“They’re beautiful!” I gasped, ignoring the mispronunciation of Laurent. I reached forward and wrapped my hands around the delicate glass vase, then I carefully carried the bouquet over to the hall table that was positioned against the foyer wall.
“These must be for my mom,” I said absently as I admired the arrangement.
Flowers had become a common occurrence in the Laurent household, ever since Mom had first been diagnosed. It was amazing how many old friends and distant relatives had come out of the woodwork and sent flowers or cards, sharing loving words of support and encouragement. I knew the flowers meant the world to my mom… especially during that period of time when she had been admitted to the hospital.
“She’s been battling cancer for a few years now, and it recently went into remission and--” I started to explain proudly, but when I turned back towards the door and noticed the bored, apathetic expression on the delivery man’s face, I cut myself off.
“...and I’m not sure why I’m babbling about this,” I said quickly with an awkward chuckle.
“I just need a signature,” the delivery man huffed, pushing a clipboard towards me. I quickly scribbled my name on the dotted line and handed it back.
After the delivery man left, I glanced back at the flowers. There were at least two dozen roses -- maybe more. Each bud was perfect, and the deep red petals were velvety soft.
I wonder who sent them? I thought. Red roses are kind of romantic… maybe Mom has a secret admirer from the hospital?
I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn’t resist sneaking a peak at the white card that was tucked in the bed of flowers. I plucked the card out gently and glanced down at it, and then my heart got caught in my throat as a raspy gasp squeaked from my lips.
To: Cassidy Laurent
I gasped. It had never even crossed my mind that the roses could be for me.
Then the gears clicked in my head: Brady.
With the exception of a cheap bunch of wilted carnations that my ex-boyfriend had purchased from a gas station (last minute, after somehow forgetting that it was our anniversary), I had never gotten flowers from a guy before.
My stomach twisted and I swallowed heavily as I turned the card over in my hands. The message was printed in a plain black typeface:
I want to make this right. Meet me at the altar tonight, 7 p.m.
I read the words over and over, it felt like a mudslide of emotions were released inside of me.
I felt like crying and puking and curling up into a tiny ball all at once. And most of all, I felt like I needed a friend. I needed to tell the truth… to confide in someone, and to spill out all the feelings that had been brewing in my heart...
I shuffled towards the living room and plonked down on the couch, then I dug a hand into the front pocket of my bathrobe and gripped my cell phone.
Before I could think twice about it, I hammered out a text to Vanessa:
911
The three-digit code was a text message shorthand we had devised back in high school. Texting “911” was a cry for help, and it was reserved exclusively for emergencies; disastrous dates, bad haircuts, split jeans…
And now, apparently, for unexpected flower deliveries from fake fiancés…
The message had barely left my outbox when I felt my phone vibrate with an incoming call.
“911, what’s your emergency?” Vanessa’s voice chirped through the speaker.
I slumped back into the nest of throw pillows that adorned the pastel blue sofa and I forced myself to swallow a deep gulp of air as I pressed the phone’s slick glass screen against my cheek, still damp from the shower.
I had no idea what to tell her… I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I had sent my panicked “911” text.
“Roses,” I finally managed to choke through the lump that had formed in the back of my throat.
“Huh?”
“Roses,” I repeated. “He sent me roses.”
“Who did?”
“Brady,” I said.
“Brady… as in your fiancé Brady?” Vanessa said, sounding confused.
As soon as I heard the word ‘fiancé,’ I felt the lump in the back of my throat burst and turn into a dry sob. I pinched my eyes shut to stop the hot tears from welling up, but it was too late… fat blobs were already rolling down my cheeks.
“Shit,” Vanessa’s voice instantly softened. “Cass… are you crying?”
“No,” I croaked as another involuntary sob escaped from my throat. I sunk deeper into my nest on the couch, as if burying myself in a pile of doily-covered throw pillows could somehow absolve how pathetic and confused I felt.
“Where are you?” Vanessa demanded. The confusion in her voice was gone, replaced with urgent concern. “Are you at your mom’s house?”
I sucked in a shaky gulp of air and nodded my head silently. Even though she couldn’t see me through the phone, Vanessa knew me well enough to decipher my silence as confirmation.
“Ok, stay there,” she said briskly. “Help is on the way.”
The phone line went dead with an abrupt click, and the sound of a raspy dial tone echoed in my ear.
I was immediately flooded with regret and relief. I knew that I had overreacted, and I knew that I was being ridiculous… but I also knew that I needed a friend now more than ever.
It’s just a bouquet of flowers! I told myself. What’s the big deal?!
I forced myself to sit up on the couch, then I blinked through the fuzzy sheen of tears that stained my eyes. My vision slowly cleared, and the vase of red roses came into focus. I blinked and the quick flash of Brady’s grey eyes stained my vision.
And just like that, I felt a fresh wave of emotions crash over me.
I felt pangs of affection and desire swell in my stomach, and I simultaneously felt the grip of devastation and guilt tugging on heart. My insides were being torn in every direction; it felt like the emotional equivalent of being blasted with icy-cold A/C and sweltering hot heat at the same time.
I was still wallowing when I heard the doorbell ring.
Vanessa had arrived in record time, and she was standing on the front porch holding a pair of white Styrofoam cups in her outstretched hands. I recognized those cups right away: strawberry milkshakes from the shake shack we used to frequent as teenagers.
Those frothy pink milkshakes had been our go-to brand of liquid comfort back in the day, before we were old enough to drown our sorrows in cheap bottles of wine or happy hour cocktails.
Every bad breakup or failed first date was remedied with a round of milkshakes from the ‘shack.
“Drink,” Vanessa insisted, forcing one of the cups into my hand as she stepped over the threshold and into the house.
I sucked up on the straw, flooding my mouth with tangy sweet strawberry swirls and tiny ice crystals that melted on my tongue and crunched between my teeth.
“Feel better?” Vanessa asked, appraising the expression on my face.
I nodded, taking another sip. The milkshake was just as magically potent as I remembered...
“Good,” Vanessa said. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
I took a deep, shaky breath.
This is it, I told myself. No more lies… just the truth.
“It’s a long story,” I said, unsure of where I should even start.
“That’s fine,” Vanessa said, taking a sip from her own Styrofoam cup. “I have plenty of time.”
As soon as I opened my mouth, it was like I had turned on a faucet in my head. Everything came pouring out like a stream of water. Vanessa didn’t push or pry. She waited patiently, her face still and blank and her eyes wide open. She listened, never stopping me to ask questions or press for more information.
When I had finally exhaled the last fragment of my story -- the roses that had been delivered, and Brady’s invitation to meet him at the altar -- I fell back onto the sofa. My mouth was dry from talking, but my chest felt light and empty for the first time in a long time.
“So that’s the truth,” I said finally. I glanced up, studying Vanessa’s expression for any hint of a reaction. “Vanessa, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I never wanted to lie to you--”
“You don’t need to apologize,” she said. She gave me a small, almost sympathetic smile. “I get it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. Then she quickly clarified: “I’m not saying it was a good idea. Actually, I think it’s probably the shittiest idea I’ve heard since, like, The Parent Trap.”
I chuckled meekly and nodded in agreement: “It was pretty stupid…”
“I understand why you did it, though,” she added. “You were trying to make your mom happy.”
“And I failed epically,” I sighed. I scraped my straw along the bottom of the Styrofoam cup and sucked up the last drops of melted strawberry slush.
“Well duh,” Vanessa smiled and shook her head. “Things are bound to go wrong when you spend your entire life trying to make other people happy instead of taking care of yourself.”
“I do take care of myself--”
“Oh, really? When’s the last time you went on a date?” Vanessa asked me bluntly. “Before this whole fake fiancé debacle, I mean.”
“Erm…”
“When’s the last time you went on vacation?” Vanessa continued. “Or just went to the bar with your girlfriends for a night out? Or went to get a manicure?”
“I don’t remember--”
“You don’t remember because you never do those things. Ever since your mom got sick, you haven’t done anything for yourself.”
“That’s not true,” I said softly. Fresh tears welled up in my eyes.
“Cassidy, you gave up everything,” Vanessa said. Her words were harsh but her tone was soft. “Your career, your apartment, your social life… you sacrificed so much so that you could move home and take care of your mom. You’re the most selfless person I know, and I love and admire you for that. But you can’t live like that forever. You have to take care of yourself, too.”
I blinked through the foggy mist of tears and settled my eyes on my hands, unable to speak.
“That’s probably why your mom was so desperate to see you get married in the first place,” Vanessa said. “She just wanted to see you happy. She wanted to know that your life would go on, with or without her.”
In the back of my head I heard the faint words that my mom had whispered that day at the hospital, and I realized that Vanessa was right.
“Stop worrying about other people,” Vanessa said gently. “What do you want?”
I shook my head slowly and bit my lip. I glanced down at the white card that I had pulled out of the bouquet; Brady’s invitation to meet him tonight, at the altar.
“I want to see Brady,” I said.
“Ok,” she smiled. “What time did he ask you to meet him tonight?”
“Seven,” I said slowly. I had lost all track of time, and when Vanessa glanced down at the watch on her wrist, I felt a coil of panic twist tightly in my stomach.
“Shit, we’ve got less than an hour,” Vanessa said. “Time to cut the chit-chat and get your ass upstairs so I can work my Fairy Godmother magic.”
***
The tires screeched to a halt on the asphalt as Vanessa slammed on the brakes in front of Elizabeth Park. I jerked forward in the passenger seat and the seatbelt dug into my chest, tightening over the silky white dress that I was wearing.
“Sorry,” Vanessa muttered from the driver’s seat, jerking up on the parking brake. She glanced down at the digital clock display on the car’s radio console and added: “I got you here with a minute to spare!”
“And you almost killed me in the process,” I remarked darkly. Vanessa had just driven us across Hartford in rush hour traffic, weaving through cars and speeding through yellow lights.
“You can thank me later,” Vanessa winked. “Now go get your man!”
She nudged me gently out of the car, and I stepped out into the dense, muggy summer heat. Even though the sun was already setting over the trees, the air still felt heavy and hot as it wrapped around my bare shoulders and snuck under the handkerchief hem of my white silk dress.
Without the distraction of Vanessa’s reckless driving, anxious nerves suddenly swarmed my body. My heart thudded rapidly, and my hands grew slick and clammy.
I followed the path through the park towards the rose garden, retracing the steps that I had taken with my mother days earlier, when we visited the venue together.
The garden looked different at dusk; flickering candles lined the pathways and the perfume of roses was even stronger in the gentle breeze. It felt… romantic.
I turned down the aisle into the garden -- the same aisle I had walked down before -- and my eyes immediately locked onto him.
Brady.
He was waiting for me at the end of the aisle, and this time it wasn’t my imagination.
He was standing next to a small round table set for two, and when his grey eyes flashed up to notice me, I swear the earth stood still.
His eyes consumed all of me, and his face softened with relief. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a thousand tiny petals of hope bloom from my heart and flutter through my chest.
And then I slowly began to walk down the aisle towards him...