A dish of tiramisu is set in front of me, and my mouth waters, even though my stomach has been twisted in knots all night.
My fingers close around the spoon, but before I can scoop up some of the sweet dessert, another utensil clinks against a glass elsewhere in the room.
I’ve seen plenty of movies about weddings, so I assume someone is going to shout for me and Dominic to kiss, but instead of one voice, the entire restaurant breaks out singing the “Happy Birthday” song.
And my throat closes.
They’ve done too much already.
Wanting to hide but unable to look away, my eyes rove around the room, seeing all the smiling faces as they sing to me.
To me.
How is this real?
The final verse is sung, and then a man finishes with “and many more” in the deepest bass voice I’ve ever heard.
I don’t know what to say.
Or do.
So I just keep the tight smile plastered to my face as I try to think of what a normal person would do in this situation.
But as soon as they’re done, everyone breaks out into applause before turning back to their desserts.
The large body next to me shifts. “Happy birthday.” Dom’s voice settles across my skin as he sets a gift in front of me.
It’s wrapped in white and yellow polka-dot paper and is the size of a book.
I glance at him, and he dips his chin. “Open it.”
As soon as I pick it up, I can tell it’s a picture frame.
I look back up at Dom, and his expression is… hesitant.
My hands are unsteady as I start to rip the paper.
The back of the frame is exposed first. And I wait until the paper is completely off before I flip it over.
And…
And…
My heart squeezes so hard a tear slips from the corner of my eye.
It’s us. Standing together in front of a Vegas altar. We’re both dressed all in black, and I have Dominic’s suit jacket draped around my shoulders.
I’m pressed into his side, but we’re turned toward each other. And the look on my face…
I release the frame with one hand so I can press my fingertips to my lips, hoping to stop them from moving.
The look on my face as I gaze up at Dominic is pure adoration.
He’s brushing his knuckles over my cheek, and I’m gripping his arm like I want him to stay right there, like that, forever.
And the look on his face…
I press my fingers harder against my lips.
His look is one of sadness.
If you didn’t know him, you might think it was affection. But I’ve seen Dominic’s expressions, and the one in the photo, the one he was feeling on our wedding night, was sadness.
My hand starts to shake too much, and I have to set the frame down.
Bibi says something, and I see Dominic hand her the photo.
How are there even photos?
Why would he give that to me?
And why did he look so sad?
“If we’re doing gifts now.” Dominic’s mom pulls a tiny gift box out of her purse and sets it on the table in front of me. “I know you two decided to do tattoos. But I want you to have this.” She nudges it a little closer to me.
Half-numb, I reach out and pick up the box.
I untie the red ribbon, then slide the lid off, and the tiny amount of composure I have left cracks down the middle.
Sitting alone at the bottom of the box is a ring.
I take it out with numb fingers.
The thick band is polished gold with swirling engravings twisting around the thin row of diamonds circling the ring. And in the center of the band is a large, sparkling diamond.
It’s stunning.
Beautiful.
It’s the vintage version of the ring I threw onto the highway. Different, but too similar to be a coincidence.
“It belonged to my mother. And now it belongs to you,” Bibi says, like it’s as easy as that. Here, take this amazing and priceless heirloom. “I know you kids nowadays like to do your own thing, so no pressure if it’s not your style,” she continues, being so nice and making me feel like an asshole. “But maybe you could use it for special occasions.”
“It’s perfect.” I hold it up a little, and the light catches the gorgeous diamond as the ring trembles in my grip. “I love it. Thank you,” I practically whisper.
“I’m so glad,” Bibi exclaims, and Dom’s aunt makes a cooing sound.
I move to put it on but realize it won’t fit on my ring finger, so I slip it onto my pinkie. “I’ll have to get it resized, if that’s okay.”
Bibi is tiny, so if this last belonged to her, it’s no surprise it’s too small for me.
“Of course.” She flutters her hands. “If I’d been thinking, I would’ve done that for you.” Then she turns her gaze to Dom, narrowing her eyes. “Or if someone had told me before you got married, I could’ve had it ready for you then.”
I almost wince, thinking about how horrible it would’ve been to have thrown this ring out the window. And I’m eternally grateful that Dom didn’t tell his mom ahead of time.
“Either way, it’s yours now,” she tells me. “And you can keep it until your daughter gets married.”
Her statement is so casual, but it shatters my abused heart into a thousand pieces.
My daughter.
My head tips down as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I would love nothing more than to have a daughter.
My chest tightens almost painfully, and I have to open my mouth to pull in a breath.
Calm down, Val.
You need to calm down.
“Speaking of…” Bibi taps the picture frame still in front of her. “Will someone please tell me about the ceremony? I’ve always been curious about how it works in Vegas.”
Oh god, please don’t ask me that.
A buzzing noise builds inside my skull until I can’t hear anything else.
I need separation from this situation.
I need distance.
My chair scrapes across the floor as I push away from the table.
“Excuse me,” I try to say, not sure if I manage.
When I stand, I sway, the shots and the old-fashioned and whatever was served with dinner all catching up to me.
A large hand, which I know is covered in ink similar to my own, presses against my lower back, steadying me.
“Val,” he says quietly, but I don’t look back. I can’t.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
I don’t know if he hears me, but I hurry away from his touch.
I head toward the little hallway in the back corner that I spotted earlier, hoping it has the escape I need.
And on my way, I pass another cluster of brightly colored balloons tethered to the wall, reminding me that everyone is here for me.
Dominic’s whole family is here for me.
Not his family, our family. Because we’re married now.
Just breathe.
One of the tables is full of men, and as I walk past, they all raise their glasses and cheer.
They’re having fun. They’re happy to be here.
And it’s the final straw.
I manage to turn down the hall before the first sob breaks free.
