Chapter 20 TWENTY
The last guest left around eleven.
Lennox watched from the ballroom doorway as Patricia kissed Callum's cheek, squeezed her hand, and promised to call tomorrow. Her mom hugged her for what felt like five minutes, crying again about how beautiful everything was. Emma made her promise to text, to visit, to not become one of those married people who forgot about their family.
Then they were gone. Everyone was gone. And it was just her and Callum standing in an empty ballroom that still smelled like roses and champagne.
"Ready to go?" he asked, already pulling out his phone.
"Yeah. Sure."
The car ride back to the penthouse was silent. Marcus drove while Callum typed emails, his face lit by the blue glow of his screen. Still in his tuxedo but he'd loosened his tie, undone the top button. Looking perfect and exhausted and completely disconnected from everything that had just happened.
Lennox stared out the window at the city passing by. Somewhere out there people were living normal lives. Getting married because they loved each other, not because of wills and contracts and money. Going home to apartments they actually shared, not separate bedrooms in a penthouse that felt more like a museum than a home.
They made it back by midnight. The elevator ride up felt endless.
Callum's phone buzzed constantly. Work stuff probably. Because even on his wedding night, the company came first.
The penthouse was dark and quiet when they walked in. Gerald had left everything perfectly arranged as always. Dim lights, fresh flowers, their wedding gifts already organized on the dining table.
"I have some calls to make," Callum said, heading toward his office.
"It's midnight."
"I doubt these investors from Tokyo care what time it is here." He paused at the office door. "Good night, Lennox."
And just like that, her husband disappeared into his office on their wedding night.
Lennox stood in the living room in her fifty-thousand-dollar dress, legally married for six hours, completely alone.
She made it to her bedroom before the exhaustion hit. Shut the door, leaned against it, tried to remember how to breathe normally.
The dress had about a million buttons down the back. She'd needed four people to get into it this morning. Getting out of it alone was basically impossible.
She twisted and reached, managed to undo maybe three buttons before giving up. Stood there in front of her mirror, still looking like a perfect bride, trapped in fabric and tulle and all the expectations that came with it.
This was supposed to be romantic. Wedding nights were supposed to mean something. Instead she was stuck in her dress like some kind of metaphor she was too tired to unpack.
She tried the buttons again. Got two more undone. Only about sixty-five left to go.
"Forget it," she muttered, and just carefully stepped out of the whole thing, letting it pool around her feet. The stylist would probably have a heart attack seeing her treat it like regular clothes, but whatever. It was just a costume anyway. She'd played her part, said her lines, smiled for the cameras.
She picked up the dress, heavy and expensive and completely impractical, and hung it in the back of her closet. Shoved it behind everything else where she wouldn't have to look at it.
Her phone buzzed. Emma, sending heart emojis and photos from the reception. Her mom texting that she'd gotten back to the hotel safely, that everything was beautiful, that she was so happy.
Lennox texted back quick responses. Thanks. Love you too. Talk tomorrow.
She changed into pajamas, washed off the layers of makeup, pulled the crystals out of her hair one by one. Each one had been placed so carefully this morning. Now they just felt like tiny weights holding her down.
The girl in the mirror looked nothing like the bride from this afternoon. Just regular Lennox in old shorts and a t-shirt. Tired eyes, messy hair, no idea what she was doing with her life.
She climbed into bed but couldn't sleep. Just stared at the ceiling, counting the hours until morning. Thinking about Callum in his office making calls like this was any other night. About the next two years stretching ahead of her. About how she'd signed her name to a marriage certificate today and it meant absolutely nothing.
The penthouse was too quiet. No sounds from Callum's office, no indication anyone else existed in this massive space. Just her alone in a very large room, wearing pajamas from Target, legally bound to someone who couldn't even pretend to care for one night.
Her phone read 1:47 AM when she heard his office door open. Footsteps in the hallway, slow and tired. They passed her room.
Then they stopped.
Lennox held her breath. She could picture him standing there in the hallway, hand maybe reaching for her doorknob. Hesitating.
The silence stretched. Ten seconds. Twenty. Long enough that she almost got up, almost went to the door.
Then the footsteps continued. His bedroom door opened and closed quietly.
She lay there in the dark, wide awake, listening to nothing. Her husband was twenty feet away behind a closed door. They'd promised forever in front of thirty people today. Kissed in front of cameras. Worn rings that meant they belonged to each other.
And they'd never been more separate.
Somewhere around 2 AM, she heard it. Faint sounds through the walls. Callum moving around his room. Opening drawers, running water. Also awake. Also alone.
Neither of them could sleep on their wedding night, but neither of them was going to do anything about it.
Lennox pulled the covers up and closed her eyes. Tried to convince herself this was fine. That she'd known what she was signing up for. That expecting anything else was stupid and naive and setting herself up for disappointment.
This was the deal. Separate lives, separate bedrooms, a contract that came with a ring and nothing else.
She just had to survive 730 days of this. Maybe less if the executor decided they'd fulfilled the clause early.
How hard could it be?