Chapter 18 - A Proposal Without a Debt
Our engagement lasted ten months.
Cassian would have married me the next morning.
I made him wait.
Not as punishment.
Because I wanted to experience engagement as something joyful instead of urgent.
We chose flowers.
Argued about food.
Rejected three venues.
Evelyn volunteered to plan everything.
I said no.
She planned half anyway.
My mother bought a dress in Italy.
Mateo agreed to be Cassian's best man and threatened to resign when Cassian suggested a twelve-person security perimeter around the reception.
“You're not conducting a summit.”
“Richard had accomplices.”
“Richard is serving thirty-two years.”
“He has friends.”
“So do normal people.”
“Normal people are statistically dangerous.”
I walked into the room.
“No visible security.”
Both men looked at me.
Cassian opened his mouth.
“No.”
He closed it.
Mateo smiled.
“This marriage may save my life.”
The wedding would take place at St. Matthew's.
Not the private chapel.
That surprised people.
But I wanted our fathers’ names nearby.
I also wanted the ceremony somewhere belonging to neither the Aldridges nor the Vales.
Neutral ground.
My dress was simple.
No enormous train.
No diamonds sewn into fabric.
No borrowed identity.
I chose it with my mother.
When the seamstress asked whether we wanted to see something “more dramatic,” Mom said, “We've had enough drama.”
Three weeks before the wedding, a letter arrived.
From Margaret.
I considered throwing it away.
Then read it.
Lydia,
I don't expect forgiveness.
Prison has given me more time than I deserve to understand a simple fact: I spent my life terrified of becoming powerless, and in preventing that, I made other people powerless.
You were one of them.
Perhaps the person I harmed most.
I told myself your mother needed me.
The truth is that I needed her dependent.
I told myself you were fortunate to have work.
The truth is that your gratitude made me feel generous while I stole from you.
There is no explanation that improves what I did.
I am sorry.
M.A.
I sat with the letter for a long time.
Cassian found me.
“What happened?”
I handed it to him.
He read.
“What do you think?”
“I believe she means it.”
“Does that change anything?”
“No.”
“Do you forgive her?”
I thought.
“Maybe.”
He waited.
“But forgiveness isn't the same as inviting someone back into my life.”
“No.”
“I don't want to carry her forever.”
Cassian sat beside me.
“Then don't.”
I folded the letter.
No dramatic burning.
No destruction.
I put it in a drawer.
It was part of my history.
Not my future.
The night before the wedding, I slept at my mother’s house.
She brushed my hair the way she did when I was a child.
“I should have told you sooner,” she said.
“About Dad?”
“Everything.”
“You were surviving.”
“So were you.”
I looked at her reflection.
“Do you regret the cottage?”
“Yes.”
“Even though it kept us housed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I taught you to confuse dependence with safety.”
I turned.
“You also taught me how to survive.”
Tears entered her eyes.
“I wanted more for you.”
“I have more.”
I took her hands.
“So do you.”
She smiled.
“Your father would like Cassian.”
“Really?”
“No.”
I laughed.
“He would interrogate him for six hours.”
“Then?”
“Then he might like him.”
We sat together until midnight.
The next morning sunlight filled the church.
No rain.
No secret guests.
No weapons visible.
No frightened bride.
Evelyn stood beside me before the doors opened.
She wore pale blue.
“You know,” she said, “technically this all happened because I ran away from my wedding.”
I stared at her.
“Do not take credit.”
“I deserve maybe five percent.”
“Zero.”
“Three?”
“Evelyn.”
She hugged me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“For everything.”
“I know.”
She pulled back.
“And?”
I smiled.
“I forgive you.”
She cried immediately.
“You couldn't wait until after makeup?”
“You asked.”
The music began.
My mother took my arm.
“You ready?”
I looked through the opening doors.
Cassian stood at the altar.
Black suit.
No scar hidden.
No intimidating expression.
He looked terrified.
I whispered, “He looks worse than I did.”
My mother laughed.
“Good.”
We walked.
Every step belonged to me.
Halfway down the aisle, Cassian smiled.
It was not the expression the newspapers photographed.
Not the face competitors feared.
It was the man behind all that armor.
When I reached him, he held out his hand.
He didn't take mine.
He offered.
I placed mine in his.
The ceremony was short.
Our vows were not.
Cassian went first.
“Lydia, the first question I ever asked you was your name.”
People laughed softly.
“I didn't understand that day how much of your life had been spent answering to names other people gave you.”
Maid.
Employee.
Debtor.
Replacement bride.
Victim.
“I promise never to choose a name for you that you do not choose yourself.”
My throat tightened.
“I promise to stand beside you without standing over you.”
My mother cried openly.
“I promise that when I am afraid, I will tell you instead of turning fear into control.”
He took a breath.
“And I promise that if you ever tell me to leave a room, I will leave.”
Everyone laughed.
I whispered, “Good vow.”
Then mine.
“Cassian, the first thing you ever gave me was not protection.”
His brows lifted.
“It was a question.”
What’s your name?
“You gave me a moment in which my answer mattered.”
My voice trembled.
“I loved you long after that moment, but I think something changed in me right then.”
I looked around the church.
“I promise to love the man you are, not the legend around him.”
His eyes filled.
“I promise to tell you when you're wrong.”
Mateo whispered loudly, “She already does.”
Laughter broke through my tears.
“And I promise not to confuse love with debt.”
I squeezed Cassian's hands.
“I don't owe you this marriage.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“You don't owe me redemption.”
“I know.”
“We're here because we chose each other.”
“Yes.”
The priest smiled.
“Then I think we can proceed.”
When Cassian kissed me, the bells of St. Matthew's rang above us.
The same bells my father once used in a story.
Only now they weren't warning anyone.
May you like
They were celebrating.
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