Chapter 3: The Wedding Is Over
1526 Words
For three seconds, Jason Blake said nothing.
Avery could hear him breathing through the phone, the uneven rhythm of a man who had expected tears, accusations, maybe another argument he could win by sounding wounded enough.
He had not expected finality.
Then he sighed.
“Ave,” he said, as if she were the unreasonable one. “Can we not do this?”
Avery looked down at the empty wineglass in her hand. The last drops clung to the curve of the glass like something reluctant to let go.
“I’m not doing anything,” she said. “I’m ending it.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re angry. I get it. I messed up. I said I’d fix the ring.”
“You used our wedding ring as collateral in Vegas.”
“I said I’d get it back.”
“You also said nothing happened at the hotel.”
His silence changed.
Avery smiled faintly. It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
“I don’t want to be your fiancée in name only anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to be the woman people pity because everyone knows what you’re doing except her. I don’t want to marry you.”
Jason’s voice sharpened. “You’re acting like a teenager throwing a tantrum.”
The old Avery might have flinched.
The old Avery might have taken the wound, swallowed it, and asked him to come home so they could talk properly.
The old Avery had spent years believing there was a boy inside Jason Blake who would one day come back for her if she waited long enough.
But that boy had been seven years old.
The man on the phone was twenty-four, drunk, defensive, and still trying to make her feel foolish for bleeding.
“I’m serious,” Avery said.
“Avery, I was drunk. She meant nothing.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I’ll delete her number.”
“You’ll find another one.”
“I won’t.”
“Do you believe that?”
Another silence.
Avery closed her eyes.
There it was.
The answer he could not say.
Her heart did not shatter. Maybe that was the saddest part. There was no dramatic breaking, no scream in her chest, no storm.
Only a tired, dull quiet, like a room after everyone had left.
“Jason,” she said. “We’re officially over.”
“Avery—”
She ended the call.
For a while, she sat in the hanging chair by the window and watched Westbridge shine beneath her. Every light looked like a life that had nothing to do with hers. Cars moved along wet streets. Towers glittered. Somewhere below, people were having dinner, falling in love, getting into fights, making promises they might or might not keep.
Her phone began ringing again.
Jason.
She watched his name flash until it stopped.
Then it started again.
She blocked him before the third call.
The room became quiet.
Avery set the phone facedown on her thigh and leaned her head against the chair’s cushion.
She had imagined leaving Jason a thousand times.
In every version, she cried harder.
In every version, he said something that mattered.
In every version, the ending felt worthy of the years she had given him.
Reality was strangely small.
A question about a ring.
A lie.
A confession.
A sentence.
We’re done.
That was all it took to close the door on half her life.
Across town, the gates of Jason Blake’s villa opened for a black Rolls-Royce.
Noah Price glanced into the rearview mirror as he drove. “Boss, you’re not going back in?”
Callum Rhodes sat in the back seat, one hand resting against his temple, his gaze lowered. The glow from his phone screen cut sharp lines across his face before he locked it.
“No.”
Noah hesitated. “You usually give Mr. Blake a much longer lecture.”
“He doesn’t need one tonight.”
That surprised Noah enough to make him look again.
Callum’s eyes lifted in the mirror.
Noah immediately returned his attention to the road.
“He’ll regret it,” Callum said.
His voice was quiet. Certain.
Noah had worked for Callum long enough to know the difference between a guess and a verdict.
“Yes, sir.”
A few blocks passed in silence.
Then Callum said, “Cancel the ballroom reservation for the twentieth.”
Noah almost stepped on the brake. “The Grand InterContinental?”
“Yes.”
“That’s…” Noah swallowed. “That’s Mr. Blake and Miss Collins’s wedding.”
“I’m aware.”
“Mr. Blake’s father—”
“I’ll speak to him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noah made the note quickly, then paused again. His curiosity was a sickness and Callum Rhodes was going to kill him with it one day.
“You’re sure they won’t need it?”
Callum looked out the window.
Westbridge slid past in ribbons of glass and rain-darkened asphalt.
“Avery Collins doesn’t look like a woman who says things twice.”
Noah closed his mouth.
That, he thought, was probably true.
He changed the subject before his survival instincts failed completely. “Mr. Danton called earlier. He said he opened a new private lounge and wanted you to stop by. Something about rare wine and a few investors.”
“He needs money again.”
“Most likely.”
“No.”
“I’ll decline.”
Callum leaned back and shut his eyes.
Noah drove on, feeling vaguely robbed by life. He worked for one of the richest men in the city, and somehow his evenings still consisted of canceling other people’s weddings and rejecting invitations to expensive parties.
At the Shaw house the next morning, Avery woke to Jason’s name missing from her phone and her mother standing in the living room like a storm in a silk blouse.
Helen Shaw did not raise her voice often.
She didn’t need to.
“What happened?” Helen asked.
Avery stood near the sofa, still in her work clothes. She had slept badly and not enough. Her face in the hallway mirror had looked calm, which almost offended her.
She should have looked like a woman who had just canceled her wedding.
Instead, she looked like a woman who had survived an illness and was now too tired to describe the symptoms.
“I’m calling off the wedding,” Avery said.
Helen stared at her.
Then she set her coffee cup down on the table with a hard click. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?” Helen repeated, sharper this time. “Avery, we are three weeks out. The hotel is booked. The invitations are sent. The florist has been paid. Your dress is finished. Jason’s father already transferred the family contribution. Do you understand how many people have arranged their schedules around this wedding?”
Avery reached into her bag and took out the card she had prepared.
“The money can be returned,” she said. “The dress is packed. Jason’s family will hear from the hotel. Nothing here is impossible to undo.”
Helen looked at the card but did not take it.
“You and Jason have known each other since you were children.”
“I know.”
“He’s careless. He’s spoiled. I won’t deny that.” Helen pressed two fingers to her forehead. “But he isn’t cruel, Avery. Boys like him run wild before marriage. After the wedding, with you and the family watching him—”
“I don’t want to watch him.”
Helen stopped.
Avery’s hand remained extended.
The card felt heavier than plastic should.
“I don’t want to manage him,” Avery said. “I don’t want to train him into being faithful. I don’t want to spend my marriage checking where he is, who he’s with, what he lost, what he lied about, and whether I’m allowed to be hurt by it.”
Helen’s face changed.
The anger did not disappear. It bent under something more painful.
“Ave.”
Avery lowered her eyes. “I thought I could do it. I thought if we got married, he’d settle down. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t.” She smiled slightly. “But yesterday I realized I don’t want that life even if he does eventually behave.”
Helen slowly sat down.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Avery placed the card on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry about the embarrassment,” she said. “I know this affects you and George too.”
Helen looked up at her. “Is there really no room to talk?”
“No.”
It came out soft, but unshakable.
Helen’s eyes reddened.
Then she reached for the card.
“All right,” she said, voice rough. “If this is your decision, I’ll handle the family side with George.”
Avery’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m still furious.”
“I know.”
“And heartbroken for you.”
That almost broke her.
- Writer
