Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 4

I STRAIGHTEN MY SHOULDERS, my body trembling as his assessing gaze sweeps over me. I say nothing, afraid my voice might shake if I speak, and I don’t want him to know how much he still rattles me.

“Mrs. Wainwright. It’s been a while.”

His deep, smooth voice washes over me, and I can’t help but flinch at him calling me by my married name.

I never went by it. Not once. They would refer to me as Sylvie Lancaster Wainwright occasionally online, but legally, I never changed it.

I am forever a Lancaster, married or not.

“Spencer.” My voice is level, and I’m proud of my apparent non-reaction to this boy. Man. Definitely a man. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I’m a liar. Deep down, I knew this would happen, though Whit hasn’t brought up Spencer’s name to me in a long time.

“I’m your brother’s best man. He’s one of my oldest, dearest friends.” He tips his head toward me, his expression impassive. As if standing in front of me doesn’t affect him whatsoever. “Whit didn’t tell you?”

“No.” I shake my head, pissed at myself. I didn’t think to ask, but come on.

Subconsciously, I knew.

“I thought you weren’t coming. When you weren’t at the rehearsal dinner last night…” His voice drifts, a single brow arching.

“I stay away from my mother as much as possible,” I admit, falling back into the old habit of admitting my truth only to this man. “We came to a compromise by my agreeing to attend the wedding.”

He’s quiet for a moment, letting that tidbit sink in. “Things still aren’t—well between you and Sylvia?”

“They never will be,” I say firmly. “I don’t trust her.”

The wary look Spencer shoots my way says he can’t trust me either.

I suppose I can’t blame him.

“Shouldn’t you be with Whit?” I ask.

“I had to find the minister for him, so I could give him a message,” Spence explains. “I saw you standing alone on the terrace and thought I would take a chance and approach.”

His admission gives me hope, where there should be none. Over the years, I’ve done too much to him, and to us. I’ve destroyed whatever we could have. Whatever we could be. There was potential once upon a time, until I destroyed it completely. I don’t deserve him, and I know it.

I’m sure he knows it too.

“You look great,” I tell him, my voice low, my eyes only for him.

His gaze drifts over me again, lingering on the important bits, and he parts his lips, ready to say something.

“Sorry, Syl. I got caught up chatting with the bartender.” Cliff suddenly reappears by my side, offering me a sweating glass of God knows what. I take it from him, barely looking at Spence as I sip from my drink, crushingly disappointed the second the liquid hits my tongue.

It’s water.

“Who’s this?” Cliff asks, sliding one arm around my waist and offering his right hand to Spence. “I’m Cliff.”

“Spencer.” He shakes Cliff’s hand, his disbelieving gaze briefly meeting mine. “You work fast, Syl. Condolences in regards to your dead husband. Though it looks like you’ve moved on already.”

Before I can say a word to clarify whatever he’s thinking, Spencer is gone, striding toward the house without a backward glance.

Cliff loosens his hold on me, blinking at me in surprise before he glances in Spencer’s retreating direction. “What the hell was that all about? He thinks we’re dating? And what’s up with him referring to your dead husband? That was all sorts of rude.”

A sigh leaves me and I chug the water, fighting the disappointment that there’s not a drop of liquor in the glass. “He’s an old friend.”

“Hmm. More like a pissed-off, old friend.” Cliff’s gaze meets mine once more, amusement flashing in his eyes. “He thought we were together, which is hilarious. Can’t he tell I don’t swing your way?”

I take in Cliff, trying to see him through Spencer’s eyes. He’s handsome as usual in a black suit with a crisp white shirt, no tie. He’s tan and fit and his warm brown hair is perfectly cut so that it flops over his forehead in the most appealing way. “You’re an attractive man, Clifford. Plus, you barged into the conversation like you owned me, so I guess he assumed we’re together.”

“Really? I didn’t mean to act like that.” He frowns. “Who is he to you, anyway? And don’t say an old friend again. That doesn’t explain anything and you know it. There’s more to this.”

“I’ll tell you during the reception. Come on.” I grab hold of his arm and steer him toward the stairwell that leads down to the lawn. We’re one of the last of the guests to sit down, both of us settling in the front row, giving room to where my parents are going to sit, though my little sister Carolina is nowhere to be found. I glance around in search of her.

Anyone could pick her out of a crowd. Lina stands out. With her perfect posture and graceful moves. Her elegant neck and gleaming gold hair that she almost always wears up. I’ve heard Grace Kelly didn’t just walk, she glided like a swan on water.

That’s my sister. All those years in dance have molded her into a young woman who moves effortlessly. She still dances, is still a part of the London Dance Company, though she told me she’s had the urge to come back to New York recently.

It would be nice, to have an ally on U.S. ground. Though I’m sure Mother would try to pit us against each other, like she did when we were younger.

The music starts, everyone in their seats swiveling to watch as people approach the aisle. First is Summer’s stepfather, Howard, and her mother, Janine. They’re beaming at everyone seated as they walk down the aisle together, and I can’t help but smile in return.

It must burn my mother’s bony ass that my father’s ex-lover—the woman who broke up their marriage, once and for all—is at her son’s wedding. That the woman’s daughter is marrying her son. It’s so juicy and scandalous.

More family walks down the aisle, including my own. My father, who struts down the aisle with Carolina on his arm. Monty walks down the aisle by himself to go stand on Summer’s side, since he’s her best man. He sends an interested look in my direction, his gaze flitting to Cliff before returning to me, and I know he’s curious.

Perfect. That’s exactly what I want.

Spencer and Whit escort my mother together, leading her to her chair, which is only two away from me. I try not to catch her eye, staring straight ahead, my heart beating wildly in my ears. In my head.

It’s bad enough that she’s sitting so close. Once I married Earl, once I did that one last thing for her, I’ve kept my distance, with the exception of that one last time. When she swooped in under the pretense that she was ‘helping me’.

I don’t like her type of help. It always comes with strings attached. And it’s not up to me anymore to give her what she wants. I’m a grown woman now.

I owe her nothing.

When Summer appears and walks down the aisle by herself, the crowd is silent. Too caught up in her beauty, her obvious strength by choosing to walk alone. Admiration rises within me as I watch her, captivated by her gown, how it sparkles in the light. The way she walks straight toward Whit as if he’s the only one she needs.

I glance over at my brother, catching the way he watches her, overwhelming love shining in his normally cold blue eyes. He is so completely smitten with her, even after all of these years.

My gaze shifts, meeting Spencer’s, who’s blatantly staring at me. He doesn’t look away either when I catch him and neither do I. His expression turns downright defiant, his lip curled with disgust.

Yet his hot gaze is filled with unmistaken lust.

Uncomfortable, I shift in my seat, tearing my gaze from his, focusing on my brother and his almost-wife. The minister speaks in monotone about lasting love and promises made. Promises kept. I think of all the promises I made to Spence when we were younger. When I was foolish and believed he was the only one for me.

Back then, I believed it because I truly thought I would die before I turned eighteen. I glamorized the notion so much to ease my fear, and it was easier owning the realization that I was dying versus pretending nothing was wrong with me. Deep down, I was terrified of the thought of not living.

And here I am, barely surviving now.

Oh, I know what everyone thinks. Poor little rich girl, wah wah wah. I’m pathetic. I have all the money in the world, what do I have to complain about?

Many, many things. Money can’t buy happiness. I’m lonely. I only have a few friends, and I’ve shut out most of my family. I’m scared to be honest with Summer because I’m afraid of her rejection. My brother tolerates me. Carolina doesn’t speak to anyone unless she’s forced to. My father is completely wrapped up in his latest girlfriend and my mother…

Cannot be trusted.

Like I can’t help myself, my thoughts return to Spencer, my gaze lingering on his tall, broad form, handsome in his tuxedo. His expression solemn as he listens to the ceremony, his hands clasped behind his back, his legs slightly spread. A perfect specimen of masculine beauty.

I will him to look in my direction, to see that I’m watching him. I don’t even care how hungry I may look, because I’m starved. Starved for this man’s attention, his touch, his mouth.

But he doesn’t look my way. Not once.

The ceremony goes on, with Whit and Summer sharing their own personal vows, making passionate declarations that leave the crowd swooning. I lean against Cliff, the heat from the afternoon sun getting to me. I didn’t eat much today either, which doesn’t help my situation, and I would give anything for a drink.

I should’ve shoved that giant bottle of clit vodka in a bag and brought it with me.

“Are you all right?” Cliff murmurs close to my ear.

My gaze remaining on Spence’s back, I say, “No. I’m bored and I’m hungry.”

Cliff chuckles. “It’s almost over. Then you can introduce me to Monty.”

“I will,” I reassure him.

At least that’s a promise I can keep.

“…you may now kiss the bride.”

I nearly collapse with relief when the minister makes that declaration and a few people start to shout when Whit kisses Summer with a ferocity that borders on indecent. I even hear my mother murmur, “Oh dear…” but I ignore her.

Everyone does.

Once Whit and Summer have walked down the aisle, everyone rises, including myself. My gaze never leaves Spencer’s back as I start to approach him, stopping short when I see him offer his arm to my sister. Carolina rises to her feet in one fluid motion, curling her arm around Spence’s before they turn onto the aisle and head for the house.

I watch them go, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my gut when I see them together, their heads bent close as Carolina laughs at something Spence says. The way he smiles down at her, his eyes twinkling.

My stomach twists and I swallow hard, fighting the bile that threatens to rise up in my throat.

“Are those two together?” Cliff asks, meaning Spence and Carolina.

“If they are,” I say as I watch the man who took my virginity escort my little sister into our family home, my voice deadly calm. “I will kill him.”