Chapter 62 The Ceremony
Crew's POV,
The venue was exactly the kind of place Joel would choose. Waterfront resort, Olympic Mountains in the background, everything carefully designed to photograph well. White chairs arranged in perfect rows facing a floral arch that probably cost more than my first car. String quartet playing something classical and expensive-sounding.
Three hundred people in designer clothes milling around, air-kissing and making small talk. Everyone looked like they belonged in a magazine spread about wealthy people pretending to care about love.
Harper's hand tightened on mine as we walked from the parking lot toward the ceremony space.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
"Define okay."
"Are you going to pass out or run screaming?"
"Neither. So I guess that's okay." She adjusted her dress. "Where do we sit?"
"Middle section. Not too close, not too far back. Strategic positioning."
We found seats in the fifth row on the bride's side. Far enough from Joel's family that we wouldn't have to make small talk, close enough that leaving early would be noticeable but not dramatic.
The seats around us filled quickly. People I didn't know wearing clothes that cost more than my monthly rent. Nobody spoke to us directly, but I felt eyes on Harper. Whispers. Recognition.
That's her. Joel's ex. The one who was at the rehearsal dinner. I heard they danced. Can you believe she actually came?
Harper kept her expression neutral. Bored, almost. Like she was attending a work function instead of her ex-boyfriend's wedding.
I was proud of her for that. The performance of not caring.
Even though I could feel how tightly she was gripping my hand.
The string quartet shifted to something more dramatic. Everyone stood. I pulled Harper up with me.
Brianna appeared at the end of the aisle.
She looked beautiful, objectively. White dress that accommodated her pregnant belly, hair in elaborate curls, makeup perfect. Her father wasn't walking her down the aisle—he was in prison awaiting sentencing. Instead, her mother held her arm.
Brianna walked slowly, one hand on her stomach, the other clutching her mother's elbow. She looked terrified.
Not nervous-bride terrified. Actually terrified. Like she was walking toward a future she didn't want but couldn't escape.
I glanced at the altar where Joel stood. He was watching Brianna approach with an expression I recognized too well. Duty. Obligation. A man doing what he was supposed to do instead of what he wanted to do.
This whole wedding was a performance. Everyone here knew it.
Brianna reached the altar. Her mother kissed her cheek and sat down. Joel took Brianna's hands. They faced the officiant.
The ceremony began.
Standard wedding script. Love and commitment and building a future together. The officiant talked about partnership and trust and choosing each other every day.
I felt Harper go rigid beside me when the officiant mentioned "choosing each other." Because Joel hadn't chosen Brianna. He'd chosen obligation.
The vows came. Joel went first.
"Brianna, I promise to be your partner. To support you. To be present for our child. To build a life with you that honors our commitment to each other and our family."
Flat. Rehearsed. Like he was reading from a contract instead of pledging his life to someone he loved.
Brianna's vows were similar. All the right words with none of the feeling behind them.
"Joel, I promise to stand beside you. To be a good mother to our daughter. To create a home filled with love and stability. To honor the commitment we've made to each other and our future."
Not a single mention of love. Not from either of them.
It was the saddest thing I'd ever witnessed.
The officiant talked about rings. They exchanged them mechanically. Gold bands that sparkled in the afternoon sun. Symbols of promises neither of them wanted to make.
"By the power vested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Joel leaned in. Brianna met him halfway. They kissed briefly, awkwardly, like two people who'd just met instead of two people starting a marriage.
The guests applauded. Harper didn't.
Joel and Brianna turned to face everyone, holding hands loosely. The string quartet played recessional music. They walked back down the aisle, both of them forcing smiles.
This was supposed to be the happiest moment of their lives. Instead, it looked like a funeral march.
As soon as they passed, guests started standing, moving toward the cocktail hour space. Harper stayed seated.
"You okay?" I asked again.
"I just need a minute."
We sat while people filed out around us. Eventually it was just us and the empty chairs and the floral arch that would be photographed a thousand times today.
"That was awful," Harper said quietly. "Not because Joel married someone else. But because watching two people trap themselves in a marriage neither of them wants is genuinely heartbreaking."
"You feel sorry for them."
"I feel sorry for Brianna. For the baby who's going to grow up with parents who resent each other. For Joel, who's too much of a coward to admit he made a mistake." She stood up slowly. "But mostly I feel grateful. Grateful that I got out. Grateful that I'm not the one standing up there making promises I don't mean."
"You ready for cocktail hour? We can skip it if you want. Go straight to the reception."
"No. Let's do this properly. Face it all. Then leave and never look back."
We walked to the cocktail hour space—another perfectly designed area with views of the water, passed appetizers, open bar. More people in expensive clothes making polite conversation.
I grabbed sparkling water for both of us. Harper took hers gratefully.
"There you are."
Linda Hartley appeared beside us, wearing a pale blue dress and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Harper. Crew. So glad you could make it to the ceremony." She sipped champagne delicately. "Beautiful, wasn't it?"
"It was a ceremony," Harper said neutrally.
"Joel looked so handsome up there. And Brianna made a lovely bride despite the circumstances." Linda's smile sharpened. "I'm glad you got to witness Joel moving on. Closure is so important, don't you think?"
I felt my jaw clench. Harper's hand found mine.
"I have closure, Mrs. Hartley. I've had it for months. I'm here to support Joel's happiness, not to pine over what could have been." Harper's voice was perfectly pleasant. Deadly pleasant. "In fact, I'm incredibly grateful things worked out the way they did. Joel and I were never right for each other. But I'm very right for Crew. And he's very right for me. So really, this all worked out for the best."
Linda's expression flickered. Surprise. Annoyance. She'd been trying to get under Harper's skin and instead walked into a trap.
"I see. Well. I hope you enjoy the reception." She drifted away, champagne in hand.
"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "My mother is a passive-aggressive nightmare."
"She's not your mother. She's Joel's mother. And she's just like him—using politeness as a weapon." Harper squeezed my hand. "But I'm done letting people like her make me feel small. I've moved on. With dignity. That's all that matters."
"You're incredible. You know that, right?"
"I'm just done performing for people who don't matter." She looked around the cocktail hour. "How long do we have to stay here?"
"Dinner's probably in an hour. Dancing after that. We can leave whenever you want."
"Let's stay through dinner. Show face. Then reassess." She took a breath. "I want to see the first dance. I need to watch Joel dance with his wife. I need that visual proof that he made his choice and I'm free of it."
"Whatever you need."
We circulated through cocktail hour. Made polite small talk with Joel's college friends. Avoided his parents. Watched guests take Instagram photos with the mountain backdrop.
Joel and Brianna appeared for photos. Professional photographer directing them to smile, kiss, hold hands, look in love. They obeyed mechanically.
Performance. All of it was performance.
Finally, guests were directed to the reception space. Another perfectly designed room, round tables with elaborate centerpieces, place cards with calligraphy.
We found our assigned table. Back corner, far from the head table. Perfect.
Sharing our table: two of Brianna's cousins, a couple I didn't recognize, and someone's elderly aunt who immediately fell asleep in her chair.
Dinner was served. Salmon or chicken, both prepared by expensive caterers and plated like art. I ate mechanically, barely tasting anything. Harper pushed food around her plate.
The speeches began.
Joel's father talked about legacy and building dynasties and making smart choices. Never mentioned love. Not once.
Brianna's mother cried through her speech about her daughter becoming a mother herself. About hope for the future despite difficult circumstances. Code for "my husband's in prison and this wedding is damage control."
Joel's best man made jokes that fell flat. Talked about their college days, Joel's draft day, meeting Brianna. All surface-level, nothing real.
Nobody seemed happy. Not genuinely. Just performing happiness for the cameras.
Finally, the speeches ended. The DJ—who looked uncomfortable with the whole vibe—announced the first dance.
Joel and Brianna took the floor. The music started.
And I felt Harper go completely still beside me.
She knew this song.
I could see it on her face. Recognition. Then hurt. Then anger.
"What is it?" I asked quietly.
"That song. That's our song. Mine and Joel's. From his draft party ten years ago." Her voice was tight. "He's using our song for his first dance with Brianna."
I stared at the dance floor. Joel holding Brianna, swaying mechanically. Using a song that belonged to his ex-girlfriend for his first dance as a married man.
The selfishness was breathtaking.
"We can leave right now," I said. "Say fuck it and walk out."
"No." Harper's voice was hard now. "I want to stay. I want to watch. I want to remember this moment the next time I question whether I made the right choice leaving him."
We watched Joel and Brianna dance. She looked uncomfortable, one hand on her belly. He looked absent, staring over her shoulder at nothing.
The song ended. Guests applauded politely. The DJ opened the floor to other couples.
I stood, offering Harper my hand. "Dance with me. Show him what dancing with someone you actually love looks like."
She smiled. Took my hand. We walked to the dance floor.
And as we danced—really danced, holding each other close, moving together like we actually wanted to be there—I saw Joel watching from across the room.
His face was devastated.
Good.
Let him see what he lost.
Let him watch Harper choose someone else.
Let him live with that choice for the rest of his life.
Because we were done here.
And after tonight, Harper would be too.