Chapter 48 — Abigail

I watched my brother dance with his wife, the two of them gliding across the dance floor with a natural grace and ease that accompanied not just repetition of that action, of those movements, but also a connection between the two of them. It made me recall the first time I had seen them together in a similar position: at the engagement party Georgia and I had meticulously planned out. Then, they had been stiff, awkward, tension crackling between them and bonding them together anyways. Secrets and lies unspoken between them, the past looking like an impossible barrier.

Now…now, though, they looked so very happy, so very content. I didn't think I had ever seen Alexander look so very at peace, and the fact gave my heart a painful twinge. I thought of Katerina before the wedding, that radiant glow surrounding her which I knew had very little to do with the gold theme of the wedding. Her words to me, about a God whose plans were unfathomable and yet unfathomably, unquestionably good. Despite all the suffering that the two of them had experienced…she could still believe that. Alexander could still believe that.

What was stopping me from accepting it as well?

"I got us some cake," my boyfriend said, and I plastered a smile on as I stood up to take the plate from him with practiced, absentminded motions, my mind faraway. "It's lemon buttercream."

I nodded. "I know. I was there at the cake tasting."

"But are you here now?" He put a hand on my back, gently pushing me to sit down next to him at the table. "You seem…a little bit off."

I bit my lip, smearing the gold lip gloss that had been so carefully applied. "I'm fine. Just…thinking."

He set down the plates of cake, gold cutlery clinking against the glossy black plates. Above us, the glass roof of the conservatory had been polished to reveal the starry sky, with brilliant gold stars twinkling down at us. Sparkling flutes, filled with champagne and cider alike, shone in much the same hue. My gold dress matched them in colour, and I picked at a crumb that had dropped onto the sequinned skirt as he spoke. "About what?"

"About…everything, and nothing." I had never met anyone quite so like him; someone so very open with every aspect of their life that mattered. Someone who was just as eager to share his life's story—from his thoughts on trivial things like books and art, to heavier matters such as psychology and politics—as he was to hear my thoughts on those matters. "About…God, I suppose. How much my brother has changed because of Him."

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, while his eyes remained dark and serious. Religion was the one thing we had briefly discussed, and hardly ever touched on. I had always assumed that he was Muslim, since Brunei was a heavily Muslim country, and had never pushed him to talk about his faith because he had never asked me about mine—or my lack thereof. "My parents sent me to a British school, you know. I do have some concept of Christianity, and in fact—"

"It's nothing." I clamped down on his next words, picking up the dessert fork and cutting into my portion of cake. "Let's just eat the cake; it's really good."

He raised a dark brow at me but said nothing. He would respect my boundaries now, as I had his before. The difference was, he had always opened up to me afterwards. Some parts of me…Well, they would remain locked shut forever. "Very well, then."

We ate in silence, and I saw silent concern for me in his dark eyes. I avoided them, letting my eyes wander to survey the crisp white shirt that contrasted handsomely against his brown skin, the mussed hair that I knew he had been running his hands through. "Would you care to dance, Abby?"

"I would." I took his proffered hand, hearing the soft, exquisite notes of the violin, the sweet melodies of the accompanying piano. There were no human voices—only those of instruments. The music had ranged from jazz to classical to some instrumental renditions of popular ballads, every moment of it enjoyable. I asked him suddenly, "Do you miss home?"

He swept me across the dance floor in powerful, commanding steps. "All the time, Abigail. All of the time."

I had never pried into his past, into his family life—because for all I knew, it could be as dysfunctional as mine. All I had gleaned was that some rift had opened up between them in the summer after he'd returned from boarding school, and before he had left for university in London.

"I miss home all of the time, too," I murmured, in a voice that was hopefully too low for him to hear. I rested my head on his shoulder. The warmth of his hands seeped through my gown as easily as water would have, the scent of him all spices and cloves. He was a steady flame, not flickering even as he was buffeted by the strongest winds.

"What was that?" he said.

My heart jumped at the idea that he might have witnessed that vulnerability, that breaking open of my heart. "Nothing."

"Okay." The music ended, and I felt his strong arms wrap around me, sheltering me. For a split second, with his chin resting on the crown of my head, I thought I heard him whisper three words. I love you.

+

"It’s time for the toasts," My father announced in his booming voice, clinking his spoon against his glass. "So, I now pass this microphone over to my son-in-law, George Devereaux."

I hadn't had much time to get to know George in the handful of months that he had been in New York, and if I was being honest…I didn't want to. He was too spontaneous, too unpredictable, for me to view as a friend. I was, however, interested in hearing his toast.

"Greetings, everyone," he said. His words were clear and succinct—at least he wasn't intoxicated. Or if he had partaken, then he had a very high tolerance. "I haven't known Alexander very long, and if I'm being honest, I can't say I know my sister very well either." Awkward laughter ensued from the guests; no one could tell if he was being serious or not. "But what I do know very well, is that they have a bond between them that is unbreakable, and…not entirely human. It isn't fallible or imperfect, but a beautiful gift. To Katerina and Alexander Steele!"

Everyone echoed him, raising their glasses. At least he had kept it short and sweet.

Then it was Sylvia's turn to speak. "Hi, everyone. If I'm being frank as well, I have to confess that I only agreed to be a part of this wedding for the food." The tittering that followed was more genuine. "I'm joking! I have known the bride for a long, long time. And in every single crisis, Katerina Dev—I mean, Steele—is ridiculously calm. So, during all the difficult times of this engagement, all the, erm, stresses of wedding planning…I thought she would be the same. But she wasn't. And I realized that it's not because she's weak. It's because so many of the things that she's suffered have not compared to this monumental event in her life, this sacred union between her and the man she loves. The creation of a new family. And I know that they will create a beautiful one. To the bride and groom!"

"To the bride and groom!" We all repeated.

Mateen gripped my hand, leaning over to whisper in my ear, "That's going to be us one day."

And my heart stopped dead in my chest.