“Fine.”
Next, the officiant.
Reverend Thomas Lane had known Lauren’s family for years.
I texted him.
The wedding is canceled. Please do not come tomorrow. I’ll explain when appropriate. I’m sorry for the late notice.
Then photographer.
DJ.
Transportation.
The cake was already made.
Flowers already paid.
Catering mostly nonrefundable.
Some money was gone.
I did not care.
At 11:03, Melissa called back.
Her voice was cautious.
“Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“I got your message.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Is Lauren with you?”
“No.”
Silence.
Melissa had coordinated enough weddings to know not to ask too much.
She said:
“All right. I need to clarify a few things.”
She went through the contract.
Most of our payments were nonrefundable this late.
Some staffing charges could still be stopped.
The bar service could be reduced.
Several rental deliveries had already arrived.
I told her:
“Cancel whatever can be canceled. Pay whatever we owe.”
“Do you want me to inform vendors?”
“Yes.”
“What about guests?”
“I’ll handle that.”
Melissa hesitated.
“Ethan, I’m sorry.”
That almost made me cry again.
“Thank you.”
David had opened a laptop.
“We need the guest list.”
Lauren managed most of it through a wedding website.
I knew the password.
Not because I was stealing access.
Because it was our wedding.
We logged in.
One hundred and twelve guests.
Emails for eighty-eight.
Phone numbers for most others.
David looked at me.
“What do you want to say?”
I stared at the screen.
Not the truth.
Not yet.
I was angry.
Humiliated.
I could have written:
Wedding canceled because Lauren decided to fuck her ex the night before.
For a few seconds I wanted to.
Then I imagined Lauren’s grandmother reading it.
My younger cousins.
Coworkers.
People who had nothing to do with our disaster.
I said:
“Keep it simple.”
At 11:18 p.m., we sent:
Due to an unexpected and serious personal situation, tomorrow’s wedding between Ethan Parker and Lauren Mitchell has been canceled. We sincerely apologize for the late notice and for any inconvenience caused. Please do not travel to the venue. Thank you for respecting both families’ privacy.
Within three minutes, David’s phone started ringing.
Then mine.
I silenced it.
“I need to tell our parents before they hear from everyone else.”
My mother first.
She answered on the second ring.
“Ethan? Is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The wedding is canceled.”
Silence.
Then:
“What?”
I explained.
Not every detail.
Enough.
Lauren told me she was spending tonight with Alex.
She expects to marry me tomorrow.
I’m not doing that.
My mother cried.
Not loudly.
She said:
“Oh, Ethan.”
I hated the pity more than anger.
My father came onto the phone.
“What do you need?”
That was my father.
Never first:
What happened?
Always:
What do you need?
“Nothing right now.”
“We’re coming over.”
“Dad, it’s almost midnight.”
“We’re coming.”