Catherine walked out into the garden barefoot, holding her heels in one hand and lifting her dress so it wouldn’t drag on the grass.
“What exactly happened out here?” she asked me, her brow furrowed with genuine concern.
I tried to give her a weak smile, but it felt impossible to pull off.
“It is nothing that matters tonight, I promise,” I said, trying to deflect.
She looked at me with that deep, steady gaze that only someone who truly loves you can offer.
“Holden, just tell me the truth,” she urged softly.
I finally told her everything, from the dozens of calls to what Sarah had overheard about the lies and the betrayal by Thomas.
Catherine didn’t scream or break down into tears, which surprised me given the gravity of the situation.
She simply took a very deep breath and held out her hand to me.
“Give me your cell phone right now,” she commanded gently.
“Why, what are you going to do with it?” I asked.
“I am going to turn it off so we can have our night back,” she said.
I handed it to her, and she turned it off completely, placed it in her small evening bag, and took my hand firmly.
“This is our wedding day, and your family has already chosen exactly where they want to be,” she said firmly.
I didn’t know what to say to that, as the truth was hitting me harder than ever before.
“Now you must choose where you want to be, so come and dance with me,” she ordered with a kind smile.
And I did exactly that.
For a few beautiful hours, I completely stopped staring at the empty chairs and worrying about my mother’s expectations.
I laughed with my friends from work and truly enjoyed the music.
I hugged Catherine’s mother, Martha, when she leaned in close to whisper in my ear.
“From today on, you are my son too, not by blood, but by choice,” she whispered.
That one simple phrase broke me more effectively than any insult my family could have thrown at me.
At dawn, when we were back at our hotel, Catherine finally returned my cell phone to me.
“You decide if you want to turn it on or leave it off,” she said.
I turned it on, and it immediately buzzed with one hundred and forty-seven messages and twenty-three audio files.
The very first audio was from my mother, and it was pure hysteria.
“Holden, answer me right now because the caterer just canceled and Isabelle is crying in the bathroom, so we need you to call Robert Sterling to fix this.”
I felt completely frozen as I listened to her demand.
Robert Sterling owned a very exclusive catering company that I had helped get off the ground years ago when I worked in corporate events.
I had always considered Robert and his family to be like my own brothers.
The second audio from my mother was even worse than the first one.
“I tried calling Robert myself, but he told me they only work through your personal recommendation, so call him and tell him to take care of your sister immediately.”
There was no mention of “congratulations” or “sorry I missed your day” in any of those messages.
There were only demands for me to serve as a tool for Isabelle.
I called Robert immediately, and he answered on the second ring.
“Holden, congratulations, brother, how was the wedding yesterday?” he asked warmly.
“It was beautiful, and thank you for the flowers you sent,” I replied.
“It was the least I could do, and I know exactly why you are calling me right now,” he said.
“My mother says you canceled on Isabelle’s party,” I said.
Robert let out a long, tired sigh.
