Daughter of the Bride

Chapter 1

Rachelle Thomas' Holiday break is shaping out to be the worst one yet.

She just broke up with her boyfriend.

Her parents are getting remarried—to each other. Making this her mother's 4th wedding in the past five years.

And when shit hits the fan, it's up to her to save the day. Alongside the last person she wants to see: Jude Wesley; her brother's best friend, and her former first love turned nemesis. 

"So, you're seriously not coming?" Rachelle's voice shook with shock and aggravation as she repeated herself slowly. 

Of all the times she could handle her boyfriend bailing on her—this wasn't one of those times.

Pierre stopped brushing his teeth, turned to look over his shoulder, then focused back on the bathroom mirror. Choosing to answer Rachelle's reflection instead of facing her, he asked, "Why would I want to come with you to your dysfunctional parents' second wedding?"

To some, it may have come out garbled, but Rachelle heard him loud and clear. Each word hit her with a sting.

"Watch it," she warned.

"What, so you can talk mad shit about it, but I can't say anything?"

Rachelle didn't quantify that with an answer. Of course, she could say whatever she wanted about her family. They were hers. For everyone else, though, they were off-limits.

Which really went without saying, but whatever.

In any case, Pierre not wanting to go to her parent's wedding wasn't the issue. Shit, Rachelle didn't want to go either. In fact, she had thrown a mild tantrum when she received the rather surprising invitation in the mail.

That was hardly the point.

For the two years they'd been together, Rachelle had lost track of how many family events she'd happily accompanied Pierre to. From kindergarten recitals for his nieces – to destination weddings for cousins he barely spoke to but wanted the excuse for the trip. She was always there for him. Always there with him.

His busy schedule was one of the reasons she rarely had time to go home, and now that she needed him to be there for her, he'd stuck his foot in the sand and was not budging.

Of all the times of the year, for him to be so willing to leave her alone right now of all times, spoke volumes.

"But... It's Christmas." This time, her voice came out weak–embarrassingly so–wrapped in a sense of inevitable defeat. He'd let her down one time too many times, and as she stared back at his unwavering reflection, she could tell by the cloudiness in his eyes that he'd come to the same realization that she did.

Their relationship was over.

"Shit." Slowly, Pierre turned to face her.

Neither spoke. Seconds stretched into minutes. The water from the sink, still running in the background, was the only sound in the tiny bathroom they shared.

"Should we talk about this?" Pierre asked.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rachelle shrugged and left the bathroom. There was nothing left to talk about.

It was over.

It probably had been over for a while now.

Except now, they both knew it.

xXx

"So, then he just left?" Lovely, Rachelle's best friend, asked the next morning. "That's it?"

Rachelle shrugged and wrapped her hands tighter around her coffee mug. It was barely ten a.m. and even though they'd gone over the story of her breakup with Pierre at least three times now, each version had clearly disappointed Lovely more than the last. Make no mistake, Rachelle knew Lovely was in no way surprised or even disappointed that they'd ended their relationship.

It was the fact that they'd done it so quietly.

Lovely had been known to slash an ex's tire or two and even bleach their clothes. A graceful exit where Pierre simply packed the duffle bag he came with six months ago and left with a swift kiss on the cheek would not do.

"And you're okay, though?" Lovely whispered. "You sure?"

Rachelle shrugged. "I'm not happy if that's what you're asking. But ... I don't know. I'm more annoyed at the idea of having to explain to everyone where he is. I mean, who breaks up two weeks before Christmas?"

"Apparently you and Pierre," Lovely grumbled, then grimaced. "Sorry, too soon?"

"You think?"

"My bad."

A small stretch of silence took over. Rachelle was lost in her thoughts of going home while being single for the first time in years; all the while having to face this over a Christmas weekend wedding she quite truthfully wanted nothing to do with.

Pierre... wasn't wrong. At least not about his accusation that Rachelle didn't want to go to her parents' second wedding either.

Growing up, she couldn't remember a time when they weren't fighting. Their relationship was toxic and drained everyone around them. So much so that when they got a divorce, five years ago now–conveniently right after she graduated high school ... her mother's friends had thrown her a "divorce party" to celebrate.

Since then, Mirielle Thomas has gotten married twice. With Rachelle by her side each time.

And now, the whole family was being forced together to celebrate her parents' reunion as if the last twenty some odd years of dysfunction, and two ex-husbands, was nothing but a fever dream. 

What could possibly go wrong?

Thank you for Reading! It's been so long since I've posted anything and I'm excited to be writing again :-) 

~Lo