Chapter 57 In Survival Mode
Crew's POV,
The dining room was filled with people I didn't know, all dressed in expensive clothes and making polite conversation about nothing. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. White tablecloths. Centerpieces with flowers that probably cost more than my first car.
And in the corner, near the bar, Joel Hartley stood talking to three guys in matching navy suits.
His groomsmen, I assumed.
He looked good. Annoyingly good. Clean-shaven, hair styled, wearing a suit that fit perfectly. He looked like someone who had his life together. Like someone who deserved to be getting married in a waterfront hotel.
I hated him immediately.
Harper's hand tightened on my arm. "I can feel you plotting violence," she whispered.
"I'm not plotting anything. I'm just observing."
"You're staring at him like you want to throw him through the window."
"The windows are very large. It would be easy."
She elbowed me. "Crew."
"Fine. I'll behave." I forced myself to look away from Joel and focus on the room. "Where's Brianna?"
"Over there. Talking to that group of women by the fireplace." Harper nodded toward a cluster of people. Brianna was in the center, wearing a flowing pink dress that accommodated her pregnant belly. She looked tired. Older than her twenty-six years.
Catherine Cross appeared next to us holding two champagne flutes. "Sparkling cider for you both," she said, handing them over. "I asked the bartender to keep alcohol away from your area, Mr. Lawson. I hope that's not presumptuous."
I stared at her. "You know about the rehab?"
"I know about a lot of things." She smiled kindly. "My husband may be corrupt, but I try to be thoughtful. Now come, let me introduce you to some people who won't ask invasive questions."
She led us around the room, making introductions to Joel's extended family. An uncle who worked in real estate. A cousin who played college hockey. Joel's grandmother, who was ninety-two and didn't hear half of what anyone said but smiled pleasantly anyway.
Nobody mentioned the lawsuit. Nobody brought up the corruption scandal. Nobody asked why Harper, Joel's ex-girlfriend, was at his rehearsal dinner.
Catherine had clearly briefed everyone in advance.
It was surreal. Like attending a wedding in an alternate universe where the past six months hadn't happened.
Joel's parents were harder to avoid. They found us near the appetizer table, where I was stress-eating shrimp and Harper was pretending to be interested in a conversation about Olympic Peninsula weather patterns.
"Harper." Joel's mother, Linda, appeared beside us. She was tall, blonde, wearing pearls that looked antique. "How... unexpected to see you here."
"Mrs. Hartley." Harper's voice was perfectly polite. "Thank you for having us."
"I wasn't aware we were having you. But Catherine seems to have taken it upon herself to expand the guest list." Linda's smile didn't reach her eyes. She looked at me. "And you must be the hockey player."
"Crew Lawson." I shook her hand. Her grip was cold and limp.
"Yes. Joel's mentioned you. You two played together in junior leagues, didn't you?"
"Briefly."
"He said you were quite good. Before the addiction issues, of course." She said it casually, like she was commenting on the weather. "It's admirable that you're seeking help. So many athletes struggle with substance abuse."
Harper went rigid beside me. I felt my jaw clench.
"I'm forty-three days sober," I said evenly. "Thanks for your concern."
"Of course. Well, I hope you both enjoy the evening." Linda drifted away, leaving a wake of passive-aggressive judgment behind her.
"I want to leave," Harper said immediately. "Right now. Before I say something that gets us kicked out."
"We've been here twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes too long. Did you hear her? 'Before the addiction issues.' Like I'm a cautionary tale she's using to make Joel look better by comparison."
"She's trying to get under your skin. Don't let her." I grabbed another shrimp. "We stay. We smile. We prove we're fine. That's the whole point of being here."
"The point was closure. Not enduring Joel's mother's passive aggression."
"Consider it bonus closure. By the end of tonight, you'll be so glad you left Joel that you'll never question the decision again." I handed her a shrimp. "Eat something. You haven't eaten since the cereal incident."
She took the shrimp reluctantly. "I hate that you're right."
"Get used to it. I'm right about a lot of things."
"Name one other thing."
"Loving you. I'm right about that."
She softened slightly. "That was smooth."
"I've been practicing my romantic declarations. Mike says emotional vulnerability is important for healthy relationships."
"Your sponsor sounds like a greeting card."
"He kind of is. But he's kept me sober for forty-three days, so I'm not arguing with his methods."
We moved through the cocktail hour in survival mode. Small talk with people whose names I immediately forgot. Polite laughter at jokes that weren't funny. Harper's hand stayed in mine the entire time, her grip occasionally tightening when someone said something tone-deaf or when Joel glanced our direction.
He hadn't approached yet. Just watched from across the room with this expression I couldn't quite read. Regret? Anger? Jealousy?
Good. Let him stew in it.
Dinner was announced. We found our seats at a table near the back, far from the head table where Joel and Brianna would sit. Thank god for small mercies.
Sharing our table: Joel's college roommate and his wife, two of Brianna's cousins, and a guy who introduced himself as "Todd from accounting, not sure why I'm here honestly."
Todd turned out to be the MVP of the evening. He was funny, self-deprecating, and clearly as uncomfortable as we were.
"So you're Joel's ex," he said to Harper during the salad course. "And you're the guy who hates Joel," he said to me. "And we're all at his rehearsal dinner pretending this is normal. Am I getting that right?"
"Pretty much," Harper said.
"Cool, cool. Just wanted to make sure I understood the vibe. It's like a really polite hostage situation."
Harper laughed, actually laughed, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
The food was good. Overpriced hotel catering, but good. I ate mechanically, trying to focus on the meal and not on Joel, who kept glancing over at our table every few minutes.
Brianna looked miserable. She picked at her food, smiled when people talked to her, but there was no light behind her eyes. This was a woman going through the motions.
Joel looked worse. Like someone attending his own funeral.
"He's going to approach you," I said quietly to Harper. "Before the night's over. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"What are you going to say?"
"I have no idea." She set down her fork. "Part of me wants to tell him everything I've been holding back. How much he hurt me. How many nights I cried. How close I came to giving up completely."
"And the other part?"
"The other part just wants to walk away without saying anything. Let him sit with his choices. Let him figure out his own mess." She looked at me. "What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should do whatever gives you peace. Not satisfaction. Not revenge. Just peace."
She was quiet for a moment. "Therapy really has changed you."
"Four sessions a week will do that. Also the existential terror of almost dying from an overdose. That helps with perspective."
The speeches started. Joel's father gave a toast that was more business transaction than emotional sentiment. Brianna's mother talked about love and commitment and building a future, all while looking like she was reading from a script. Joel's best man made jokes that fell flat.
Nobody seemed happy. Not Joel. Not Brianna. Not their families.
This wedding was a obligation everyone was fulfilling because calling it off would be too embarrassing.
I thought about Harper and me. About how we'd gotten together through a fake dating scheme for revenge. About how it had turned real despite every reason it shouldn't have worked.
We were messy and complicated and both carrying damage. But we chose each other. Every day. Not because we had to. Because we wanted to.
That made all the difference.
After dinner, people started mingling again. The bar opened for after-dinner drinks. Music played softly in the background.
And Joel made his move.
He crossed the room, weaving through guests, heading straight for our table.
Harper saw him coming. Her entire body went tense.
"You want me to run interference?" I asked.
"No. I need to do this." She stood up, smoothing her navy dress. "Just stay close, okay?"
"Always."
Joel reached us. Up close, he looked worse than he had from across the room. Dark circles under his eyes. Forced smile that didn't reach anywhere near genuine.
"Harper," he said. "Can we talk? Please? Just five minutes."
Harper looked at me. I gave her the smallest nod. Your choice. I trust you.
She turned back to Joel. "Five minutes. Outside."
They walked toward the terrace doors. Every instinct in my body screamed to follow them. To make sure Joel didn't say anything that hurt her. To protect her from whatever conversation they were about to have.
But I stayed in my seat.
Because Harper didn't need protecting. She needed space to get her closure.
Even if it killed me to give it to her.
Todd leaned over. "You're handling this really well. If my girlfriend went outside with her ex, I'd be losing my mind right now."
"I am losing my mind," I admitted. "I'm just doing it quietly."
"That's very mature of you."
"Don't congratulate me yet. If he's out there longer than five minutes, I'm going full caveman and dragging her back inside."
"Fair enough."
I checked my phone. Started a timer. Five minutes.
And tried not to think about what Joel might be saying to her right now.