How to Steal a Happy Ending

•forty two: part one• A match made in hell

Margret Holly.

To her father, she was the sun the world revolved around. To her industry friends, she was one of the best (richest) designers in town. To her maids, she was at least better than their past employers.

To me, she was the bitch that stole my mother's happy ending.

I glanced around the wedding hall wondering when the pastor would ask if someone had any objections to this sham of a wedding, this farce of a happily ever after. Shocks of indigo stood out amid the otherwise snow white decor. The stage, the flowers, tables tops and even the sky above played along with the predetermined color code.

The perfect fairy tale backdrop.

A wedding planner and her twenty odd assistants zipping along the edges, making sure everyone dozed peacefully in this daydream that they'd crafted. Money, I supposed, got you the best of the best. Because none in attendance seemed remotely alarmed that a man was about to leave his real family behind in the dust, while he catapults towards the coveted sunset with a Hollywood fake.

Instead, they watched with perfect eyebrows and painted faces. Adoring, complacent, superior. Diamonds, pearls, crystals I would never learn the names of; coiled around their necks, pierced through their flesh. Swarovski, Cartier, Patek; just other ways to say that they had more money in their pinky than the collective bank accounts of everyone I knew.

"Do you, Henry Heathrow, take Margret Holly to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

A hush fell over the hall, the couple held everyone in rapt attention. No one, however, lent as close a ear as I did. For them this was merely a formality, the final event before the clinking of champagne glasses and feathered peacock strut could begin. But to my father and I, it was one last chance.

I'd hardly realized it before, head too far up my own ass. But the part of me that lived in past knew. Those Sunday hours burnt sitting on a boat, butts numb only to return home with a store bought salmon. Those warm fires in dead winter with painfully burnt marshmallows bobbing in a cup of hot chocolate and stubbornness. Rolling our eyes behind my mother's back, arguing over the remote control, hiding each other's lies. Sure, it wasn't perfect the way Margret was. Or grand the way this wedding ceremony was. But atleast, it was comfortable. Familiar.

You wouldn't want to leave that behind, would you? My eyes burned the question into the side of my dad's face. Then, as if it had stung him, he turned just a fraction of an inch to left. A fleeting glance. Yet, I clung to it. We could run from here, we were outsiders in this world anyway. Get into my hand-me down Prius, gun it to our house, and beg Mom to forgive you...to take you back. The last minute switch and flip, the wedding dash. It was the ideal movie moment. All he had to do was say No.

The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes became more prominent as he smiled. My hands tightened around the flowers, the effect of it on my throat.

"I do."

That stupid heart filled to the brim with hope, dropped. First down my throat and then onto the floor.

I looked over at James. Solely because I had no one else there. Hands busy fussing over his tie, they stilled long enough for him to spared a bit of his concern at me.

Blue eyes in tandem with brown. We rolled them at each other. This is lame, they said. And I tried to smirk along in agreement.

The tears, thankfully, would surely be mistaken for happy kind. Or at the very least, they'd be buried in the ones that were being wept beside me.

I threw a hand over the shoulder of the blubbering bridesmaid. She took the time between sobs to whisper about how beautiful it was. And I decided that pregnant women just thought everything was beautiful. Either way, it spared me from watching him kiss the bride. Only not his bride. Not to me anyway... never to me.

~~~~~

A/N: Apparently they don't include the whole "speak now or forever hold your peace" part at real weddings. Because now they check if the marriage is legal, etc. before the day. Plus, it'd be super awkward if someone legit stood up and went "yeah, I object to this wedding." Like nah dude sit your ass down, this ceremony was expensive and offers no refunds haha