Page 24 of One Last Gift

But Beth, one of her bridesmaids, saw him there too, and came over to usher him away. He took the excuse gladly, because it meant he didn’t have to answer Jessica’s question.

Satisfied he was leaving, Beth left him to go back to help Jessica with whatever last-minute arrangements she was making. Sam glanced over his shoulder one last time, and stopped in his tracks. His stomach lurched painfully.

Cassie.

Cassie was there, in that room. She was in the other corner from Jessica, so he hadn’t noticed her at first, given the way she blended in with the hotel staff, wearing a black blazer and black trousers, totally unremarkable.

Of course she’d be there. Of course she’d be at the set-up, making it all happen. But there had been a part of him that had expected her to get out of it, the actual day at least, considering what she’d said to him the last time they’d seen one another.

Sam stood rooted to the spot as Jessica crossed the room to talk to Cassie, as she took Cassie’s hands in hers. He found himself watching Cassie, not Jessica. Her blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail, almost scraggy-looking, and her face was a little pale. She wore no makeup—striking in comparison to Jessica’s look. She looked…fragile, somehow, too thin. And tiny. Why had he never noticed how tiny she was before now? He’d never really thought of her as “short,” even though she was, because she always used to sparkle in the room whenever she was there. She lit up, especially around Tom. And, once upon a time, he thought he’d seen her light up around him, too. Before he’d ruined that—and their friendship along with it. But now there was no spark, and a tiny, frail creature had replaced the Cassie he knew. He wished, so much, that he knew what to do to fix it, felt his heart physically ache at the sight of her like this. Wished he could think of something to say, or just go and hug her, tell her that it would be OK, somehow.

But she wouldn’t be grateful if he tried, he knew that. There was nothing he could do, and he was too much of a coward to face her again, after last time. So he turned away.

His mum wasn’t in his room when he got back. She’d probably decided to give him some space. He crossed to the dressing table and pulled out the chair, intending to collapse there and wait until it was time, but he saw something that made him freeze. A velvet box, the one that held the wedding rings. Placed on the corner of the dressing table. His mum had been looking after them, he remembered. She must have left them here for him. He opened the box and stared at the two gold bands. Tom was supposed to be holding these for him at the ceremony.

He put the box down slowly, leveled a look at himself in the mirror. Thought of Jessica down there, looking beautiful. Thought of her dad, his boss, ready to welcome him as a son-in-law, to prepare him to take over the family firm. Jessica had already talked about how she wanted kids, and no doubt that would follow soon—two children, a well-paid job, a house in London. Then he thought of his dad, of the mess that he’d turned out to be. Of his mum, constantly let down by the man she’d chosen to marry.

Of Tom, gone, because of a mistake Sam had made, because he’d been unable to get his shit together. Of Cassie, who had lost her brother because of him.

Jesus, he couldn’t breathe. He fumbled to release the bow tie around his neck, found himself gasping. And he knew, in that moment, that he could not do it.

He could not go through with the wedding.

Chapter Eleven

Sam hastily grabbed his things from where they were strewn around the hotel room and shoved them into his brown overnight bag. Thankfully, he didn’t have a lot of stuff—the honeymoon was planned for summer, rather than immediately after the wedding. He fumbled to get his bow tie off, felt immediately better when he hid it out of sight at the bottom of his bag. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table last, then hesitated. What was he doing? This was crazy. It would be the end of him and Jessica; there would be no going back after this. And he’d be kissing goodbye to his job; no way would he have a future at the firm after jilting the boss’s daughter. He glanced again at the wedding rings on the dressing table, and felt his chest tighten.

No. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk down the aisle without Tom there to coach him through it. It was an awful, terrible thing to do, to leave her like this. But he was an awful, terrible person, and it was better Jessica knew that now—better to get out of her life while it was still possible, rather than let her down later, like his dad had done to his mum.

So, with slightly trembling fingers from the adrenaline pumping around his body, he unlocked his phone and typed out a text.

I can’t do this. I’m so sorry. It’s for the best.

He sent it, then practically sprinted from the room, leaving the rings on the dresser. Jessica could sell them, get the money back, pay off the hotel bill. He grimaced. It wouldn’t make up for what he was doing. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him, didn’t make him turn back. He took the stairs all the way down to the ground floor—the lift was too risky.

He hurtled into the hotel lobby, barely thinking, blood pumping in his head, urging him to get out of there. That was his one thought. Get out. He kept his head down, staring at the Art Deco flooring, looking away from the circular red sofa in the middle of the reception area, in case anyone he knew was sitting there. Fuck, he was still wearing his tux. He fumbled in his bag—feeling a rush of guilt as he remembered that Jessica had bought it for him—and got out a jacket to shove over the top, hiding the evidence.

It was halfway across the reception hall, right next to the red sofa, that Sam heard her voice. He was surprised at how instantly he recognized it, how tuned in he was to it. He jerked to a stop. Stayed still, frozen, like somehow just by moving he’d be calling attention to himself.

“Everything is set up and ready,” Cassie was saying. “So Josh will be more than capable of handling things from here.” He risked a furtive glance around, saw her to his left, on the other side of the sofa, near a gigantic indoor plant. She had her back to him, and was standing with two men—an older man with a receding hairline, and a wiry redheaded man.

“And I’m happy to do it,” the redhead said. “Cassie’s talked me through the whole thing.”

Cassie was bailing, then. Just like him. Though in her case, it was understandable. He carried on moving, slowly now, aware of each step he took. The lobby had been bustling when he and Jessica had checked in yesterday—where were all the people to hide behind when you needed them?

“Well, I’m not happy for you to leave.” Presumably that was the older man, though Sam didn’t look over his shoulder to check. “These are very important guests—the bride’s father owns a London law firm. We can’t have anything going wrong here.” Sam winced at the reminder of what he was leaving behind, of how he’d managed to completely fuck himself over.

“My aim isn’t to let things go wrong, funnily enough.” The redhead’s voice had turned dry. “And I’m a total hit at weddings, trust me. You can count on me, sir.” There was a touch of irony in the “sir.”

“You can’t leave, Cassie.” The voice was final. “You are the events manager, and this is an event. Besides, you were the one who brought these clients in—and that’s something that hasn’t gone unnoticed up top.”

“Fine,” Cassie said, her voice weary. Sam wanted to turn, to check her expression. But he didn’t give in to the urge. The glass double doors were right there in front of him, and soon he’d be outside, free. “Look, I’ll come back in a minute, but I just need to take a beat. Please. It’s my brother’s…It was someone close to my brother, getting married and I…”

“Cassie, I’ve been lenient with you over the last few months, because I know you’ve had this bereavement, but there comes a time when you have to stop using that as an excuse.”

Jesus, the guy was a dick. Sam felt a protective surge toward Cassie, and his stride faltered, half of him wanting to go back and tell this guy that something like this wasn’t an excuse, that he clearly had no idea what he was talking about, that he should give Cassie a fucking break. There were plenty of times growing up, when Tom hadn’t been nearby and someone had been teasing Cassie, when he’d stepped in to do just that.

An elderly couple came in through the glass double doors at that moment, and Sam stepped aside to let them past, unable to get out while they were walking, excruciatingly slowly, into the building. His body twitched. He didn’t hear Cassie’s response, but presumed she’d made one, because he heard the guy saying, in an annoyingly nasal voice, “Glad that’s settled. You can have five minutes, no more.”