People watching, not sure if they were seeing a meltdown or a movie scene.
Even the weight staff had paused in the background, frozen midstep with trays of sparkling wine.
My dad took a step toward me.
“You’ve always been like this, bitter, petty, blaming us for your own disappointment.”
I cut in.
“Because that’s what I’ve always been to you, right? A disappointment.”
His mouth worked, but no sound came out.
I looked around.
“You all saw it for the first time. You really saw it. Not the polished version. Not the fake smiles or the holiday cards. Just the way things really were.”
Elisa’s voice cracked from behind.
“You’re ruining everything, Ian.”
I turned slowly.
She was standing there, bouquet crushed in her hand, dress slightly wrinkled from her hasty dash outside.
Her eyes were glossy, her cheeks blotchy with tears.
And for once, she didn’t look golden.
She looked real. Human. Panicked, exposed.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t shout.
I just said, “You did that on your own.”
She blinked rapidly.
“I trusted you.”
“No,” I said. “You used me. You wanted a slideshow. You just didn’t think I’d have anything worth showing.”
Her face crumpled slightly, and right as I was about to turn away, the side door opened again.
Carson stepped back into the room.
His tie was loosened, his face unreadable.
He didn’t walk to Elise.
He didn’t smile.
He just stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
And then, with a flat voice that made the room fall silent again, he said, “Ian, can we talk?”
Elise gasped.
“Carson, why would you want to talk to him?”
But he didn’t answer her.
He was still looking at me.
And something in his expression told me this night wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
I hesitated, not out of fear or confusion, but because part of me still couldn’t believe it was happening.
Carson, the golden boy, the safe choice, the man my parents doted on like some second son, was standing there asking to talk to me.