Part 3 — Daniel’s Perfect Wedding
Daniel and Madison were married at an exclusive country club outside Dallas. Everything looked like a magazine spread. White roses covered the entrance. Crystal chandeliers hung above the ballroom. There was a live string quartet during the ceremony and champagne waiting before the reception.
Guests arrived in designer dresses and tailored tuxedos. Daniel had always cared deeply about appearances. Success wasn’t enough for him. Success needed witnesses.
Ethan wore a navy suit and dark tie. I wore a simple lavender dress I already owned.
When we arrived, several people from Daniel’s law firm recognized me. Some smiled politely. Others immediately became fascinated by their drinks. I understood. Divorced spouses make people uncomfortable when everyone knows why the marriage ended.
Daniel spotted us before the ceremony. For half a second, surprise crossed his face. Apparently he hadn’t expected us to actually accept the invitation.
Then the public Daniel appeared. He walked over smiling.
“You came.”
“You invited us,” I said.
His eyes moved to Ethan.
“There’s my guy.”
He opened his arms. Ethan hesitated before accepting the hug. Daniel didn’t seem to notice.
“Looking sharp,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“You excited?”
Ethan looked toward the decorated ceremony space.
“I guess.”
Daniel laughed.
“Kids.”
Then he turned toward me.
“Rachel, you look good.”
“Thank you.”
There were a hundred things I could have said. I chose none of them.
Madison approached a moment later. She looked beautiful. I can admit that now. She wore an elegant fitted gown, her blond hair pinned back beneath a delicate veil.
For a moment we simply looked at each other. Then she said, “I’m glad you came.”
Her voice sounded almost sincere.
“So am I,” Ethan said before I could answer.
Something flickered across her face. Guilt, maybe. Or discomfort.
We were seated near the back during the ceremony. Ethan watched his father the entire time. When Daniel promised loyalty, I felt something bitter rise in my throat. I swallowed it. This wasn’t my wedding. It wasn’t my marriage. And Daniel was no longer my problem.
That realization should have made me feel free. Instead, I looked at my son. His face was unreadable.
At the reception, we were placed at table seventeen, near the service doors, with distant relatives and several younger employees from Daniel’s firm. It was far enough from the bridal table that nobody could accuse Daniel of making his ex-wife part of the celebration. But close enough that people could see we had attended.
Perfect optics.
Ethan ate quietly. Under his chair sat the brown-paper package.
I noticed it.
“You brought your gift?”
“Yes.”
“When are you giving it to him?”
“Later.”
Something about the way he answered made me uneasy.
“Ethan…”
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Those words should have reassured me. They didn’t.
