After I realised there was nothing I could or should do to stop the wedding, I helped Helen with the preparations, and a minute ago, I watched them seal it.
Yesterday, I cried in the park.
Last night, I cried in the pillow.
Today, I cried when they were pronounced husband and wife. However, cried is an exaggeration — it was a couple of tears and I quickly wiped them away, pretending they were happy tears.
More like mourning tears.
The moment I stood there witnessing the union of Papa and Helen, something inside me died and I knew I’d never be able to get it back.
I missed the timing and now I’m paying the price. I shouldn’t care, but it’s the only thing I keep thinking about: missed timing.
There’s no time machine to take me back to last month or to last year or to that damn night I set Papa and Helen up together while Cole kissed me upstairs.
We have a small reception in our house only for friends and family, and by that, I mean Papa’s party members. They fill the garden and chat amongst themselves about the elections.
It’s a rare sunny afternoon and it gives the gathering a glowing aura. Papa looks dashing in his black tuxedo and the bowtie I personally put on him. Helen wears a simple beige dress that complements her skin tone. Her hair is pulled up in an elegant way and she appears so happy as she puts her hand in Papa’s arm.
He, too, has been caressing her hand every chance he gets. I’ve never seen Papa smile this much for no official necessity. It’s almost as if it’s permanent.
I’m happy for him, I am, but I still can’t chase away the lump in my throat, no matter how much I swallow.
God. Why am I such a horrible daughter?
Papa needs this. Helen needs this.
I just have to suck it up and move on. I’m good at moving on. At pretending. At being someone everyone envies and wants to be.
My fingers reach for the necklace around my neck, but I quickly drop my hand before I touch it.
I need to keep it together.
I help the catering guys, directing them to the kitchen. Since Mum left, I’ve always taken care of these things; I became an adult at a young age. I guess Helen will take that burden away from me now.
Not that I ever considered it one.
Ronan and Xander join me to steal food.
Xander has a blond exotic look with piercing blue eyes and charming dimples. The worst thing about his whole package is that he’s very well aware of it and uses it every chance he gets.
Ronan, too. He’s developed a charismatic personality that he takes advantage by shagging everyone who wears a skirt.
They both showed up with their parents. Ronan’s father, Earl Edric Astor, is one of Papa’s friends and a crucial sponsor like Uncle Jonathan.
Xander’s father, Lewis Knight, is a powerful member in Papa’s party and basically his right hand — besides Frederic.
I’ve been thrust with these guys since a young age whether I liked it or not. Not that I dislike them — they’re actually fun — but I’ll never tell them that so it doesn’t get into their already big heads.
I swat Ronan’s hand away from the container. “Stop it.”
“Hey!” He stuffs a scone in his mouth. “Food is free. Don’t be a snob, chéri.”
“There’s an open buffet outside.”
“Nah, my father glares at me when I eat this much in public.” He steals another one. “I have to do it in secret like a proper gentleman.”
“Amongst other things you do in secret.” Xander winks at him.