You're Invited(37)

But once again, I had to tuck my mother away into a corner of my mind. I missed her, of course, but I wasn’t like her. I believed in fighting for what was mine.

I called a proper taxi to take me to the Fonsekas’, because taking a tuk tuk alone while dressed like this would be “asking for trouble.” It’s true I’d been away for a while, but I hadn’t forgotten the rules.

The itinerary on the website said that this was a simple gathering at home. Of course, I knew the Fonsekas weren’t capable of throwing something basic, but walking back into their home for the second time today, I wasn’t prepared for this—

The front lawn was enveloped in a large marquee that was not there when I left this morning. Every bush and tree was bedazzled in fairy lights. A stage with a band was set up at one end of the marquee, with a small bar at the other end. A large number of round tables with elegant crisp white tablecloths took up the space that was not designated for the dance floor, while taller cocktail tables dotted the garden outside the tent. All the tables held towering vases of pink flowers, and the heady scent made me feel a little dizzy. A separate, smaller marquee off to the side contained a decadent buffet, where I could see an impressive mix of Sri Lankan and Western food being served. There was a photo booth with props off to the other side, and a separate gin and tonic bar for handcrafted cocktails.

Mrs. Fonseka was a planner. Not officially, of course. A woman of her disposition from her generation would never seek employment of any sort. And so instead she planned parties, and galas, and charity events. She planned school fairs, and concerts, and her daughters’ lives. She’d even taken a shot at planning things out for me. And while her parties were known to be the best in Colombo, she’d definitely upped her game tonight in honor of her daughter.

Speaking of Mrs. Fonseka, she was marching around barking orders at various waitstaff, who looked petrified every time she went near them. Even though her peacock-blue evening dress sparkled like a Christmas ornament, her expression was strictly no-nonsense. She wore a necklace adorned with blue sapphires that glistened in the flickering low lights. I wonder what it might be like to pull it tight. Not too tight—just enough to make her face turn blue. Blue to match her ostentatious necklace and her gaudy dress.

Not wanting to draw any attention from her, I tried to back away as discreetly as possible into the main house, where it would be quieter.

Smiling politely at an old couple, I waited for them to pass me by before turning around and almost tripping over someone.

Maybe I was about to apologize, but my voice never found the words.

I knew, of course, from the moment I decided to come here, from the moment that I decided to sabotage this wedding, that I’d have to see him. I’d spent so long dreaming of this moment. What I’d do, what I’d say when I finally came face-to-face with Spencer after all these years. I was crying, the last time he saw me. Sobbing. Broken. I was a shell before. Not even half the woman I am now. I wondered if he had changed too. How different can someone be after five years? Do we really change? Does what’s deep within us, in that place that makes us innately who we are, shift and move and evolve with time? Or are our lives like the window dressing of department stores—changed and updated with the seasons, leaving what’s inside in the same chaotic mess?

“Amaya,” he exclaimed, and I practically disintegrated at the way my name sounded coming from his lips. He was carrying a bouquet of lilies, and the smell of it laced with his aftershave made it hard to breathe.

“Um, hi, Spence. How are you?” I tried to go for nonchalant, but my voice came out high and squeaky. I put my hands on my hips to stop them from shaking and took a deep breath. I can’t look like a wreck now. He has to see that I’m not a wreck. I am strong. I am confident. I have my own life and my own business and my own brunch friends. I’m fine.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said. He was smiling. His voice was warm. My breath was shallow. I was going to throw up.

“Um, Kaavi invited me.” I tried to go an octave deeper. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Oh? That’s a pleasant surprise.” So Kaavi hadn’t told him either.

“I’m glad you’re here, though, Ams. Really.” He sounded earnest. My knees felt weak. “I hated the way we left things. I was horrible to you, of course. I never even had the chance to apologize. And then you, well, you left. If I’d have known then that I wouldn’t see you for, how long’s it been now? Four years?”

“Five,” I said softly.

He raised an eyebrow at the correction, his smile as boyish as ever. I was definitely going to throw up. I needed to get out of here.

“You always had a better memory than me. Five whole years. If I’d known it’d be this long, well . . .” He smiled again, but wistfully this time.

I didn’t say anything. My body was frozen. My mind too. I could barely look him in the eye and so I stared at his chest instead. He’d left an extra button undone just like he always did. A part of me almost reached out to button it, but of course I caught myself in time. I remember how he used to press me into his chest and I used to bury my face in it, wishing I could melt into him. Wishing I could melt away.

“You’ll be here for the whole wedding, then?”

I forced myself to swallow. To hold my voice as steady as I could.