The Devil Wears Black(108)
EPILOGUE
CHASE
Six months later
Dear Chase,
When we were in the Hamptons, and you were busy bickering with Julian, and your mother, your sister, Amber, and Clemmy were busy shopping downtown, Maddie approached me in the library. I considered it a bold move, seeing as we were complete strangers, and I was, essentially, her boss.
Madison explained her mother wrote letters to her throughout her journey fighting cancer, to immortalize her feelings toward her daughter long after she herself was gone. Naturally, I was interested. I asked Madison if she could email me copies of those letters. She said she could. I spent many nights reading Iris Goldbloom’s letters to her daughter. She was, I suspect, a fine woman.
I have tried to write many letters to you, Julian, Kate, and Clementine. But in truth, expressing my feelings in words has never been my forte. I suppose I am more of a show-don’t-tell type of man. Until today. I finally found something worth writing to you. Something that wouldn’t feel mundane or utterly dull.
Today, I found out that your relationship with Madison was a sham. That you did it, in part, to pacify me. The fact that you went to such great lengths to ensure my peace of mind touches me.
I love you.
I am proud of you.
And your engagement to Maddie? While I suppose you thought it had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you, I knew, the day I saw your eyes light up in the Hamptons when she showed up for that late dinner, that she was the one.
Treat her well. Take care of your mother. Protect your sister. Help raise your niece.
Oh, and try not to kill your brother.
Love,
Dad
I tucked Dad’s letter into my breast pocket, before tightening my bow tie in front of the mirror in the small-ass bedroom with the dated yellow wallpaper. I looked sharp in a Black & Co. black suit.
“You know what stuns me the most?” Grant asked beside me, running a hand over his hair. Of course my best man wanted to look good in front of the maid of honor, a.k.a. Layla. He still hadn’t gotten over being rejected. I doubted it was even in his vocabulary.
“My wicked good looks?” I asked wryly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Julian shake his head, ducking down and adjusting Clementine’s floral crown. She was the flower girl, and what a flower girl she was. Mad had designed a dress especially for her, after much consultation and fuss that suggested Clementine would be the one making the vows today. “Fools,” Julian muttered with a smile on his face. “Never get married, Clemmy.”
“Oh, but I want to, Daddy.” Her eyes widened. “With Chase.”
Grant chuckled, turning back to me. “What stuns me is that Maddie still chose to marry you, even though she knows what kind of a cocky, arrogant, bas—” Grant was about to finish his sentence, but Booger Face’s head flew up, and she stared at him expectantly. She had been dying for someone to screw up and roll a five-dollar bill into her potty-word jar. She was counting on new Barbie bicycles for Christmas.
“Stop it right there, good sir,” Julian warned. Clementine faltered.
“Bassist,” Grant finished. “Did you know your uncle can play the bass guitar, Clem?” He spun to where she was standing by the bed, flashing her a dazzling grin.
“No.” She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “He can’t.”
“I smell a challenge.” I grinned.
“I think what you smell is the sole of my shoe in your butt for being unfashionably late.” Layla poked her head into my suite. And when I said suite, I meant Mr. Goldbloom’s master bedroom.
Yes, I was getting married in a town house in Pennsylvania.
No, I was not out of my mind. Clinically, anyway.
“Looking good, Layla.” Grant saluted his green-haired ex-hookup.
She flashed him an easy smile. “Same, Grant. How’s life been treating you?”
“Better than you did,” I muttered into my whiskey, emptying it in one gulp. Layla took Booger Face by the hand, leading her to the bride’s suite (read: Mad’s childhood bedroom). Grant and Julian ushered me to the altar in the backyard. Julian was the first in line behind me, then Grant. Behind them stood all the men Madison had fake-married from her neighborhood. Layla had thought it’d be hilarious to invite them. I thought Layla’s sense of humor sucked, but I was a good sport about it, because I knew Mad would get a kick out of it. Standing behind Grant were Jacob Kelly, Taylor Kirschner, Milo Lopez, Aston Giudice, Josh Payne, and Luis Hough.
Contrary to Madison’s, the only ex of mine who was in attendance was Amber, who was currently sitting on one of the folded white chairs in front of the wedding arch, her sunglasses on, huffing into her glass of fizzy wine and complaining about the lack of French champagne. Mad had chosen to have a very modest event. My martyr bride was donating most of our wedding budget to a cancer-research charity. My mom and Katie sat beside Amber, who attended for the sake of playing nice with the Blacks. It didn’t seem fair that Booger Face should suffer just because things hadn’t worked out between Amber and Julian. Ethan clasped Katie’s hand and shot me a thumbs-up. I gave him a curt nod. I still didn’t approve of running tights and Dora the Explorer ties but didn’t much care about his wardrobe anymore.
Katie had been dating Ethan seriously for four months now. Two months after Dad died, Ethan officially asked her out. Until then, he was just there for her emotionally, but I could see he was dead scared of getting friend zoned again. In fact, I was the one who’d told him to seal the deal before she gave up on his ass.