Page 184 of With a Cherry On Top

“Those people,” I rasp, “they suffer abuse that runs so deep, it’s embedded in them, wrapped around their bones like a second skeleton. They get sick parents who won’t ask for help. Brothers who can’t see past their mistakes. Wives who never loved them. And—”A jagged, splintering sound escapes my lips.

I suck in a breath, but it isn’t enough.

“And daughters who end up paying the consequences of everyone’s mistakes.” I take a step back, like distance might soften the ache. “And—and?—”

I choke on a sob and wince, as if someone just took a knife and drove it straight through me. It’s like the weight of the last month, of the last year and beyond, is finally too heavy to bear.

Everything is dead silent as we all stand there.

“Aaron.” Amelie’s voice is quiet now. Her eyes glisten as she steps toward me, hand lifting, but I jerk back.

“N-no. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

She dips her chin, willing herself to listen.

“Charlotte shouldn’t be punished for being lonelier than you, Amelie.” My voice steadies, even as I swipe roughly at my damp cheeks. “You walked away from the toxic people in your life, but you didn’t do it alone. You had help. You had choices because someone presented them to you.”

Amelie’s lips part, but she lets me continue.

“You don’t get to be selfish with her just because your life is finally on track.”

Ian shifts then, stepping forward, his voice a low warning. “Watch yourself, Aaron. You’ve said enough.”

But I can’t stop now. I won’t.

Ignoring him, I keep my eyes locked on Amelie. “You don’t get to be selfish when everyone else in her life is.”

Ian moves between us, his presence solid and unmoving. “Did you hear me?” His voice is sharper now. “That’s enough.”

“I’m done,” I say, lifting both hands in surrender. My feet shuffle me backward, distancing myself as my pulse pounds in my ears.

I don’t look at them as I turn.

I just walk away.

CHAPTER 35

A Missing Ingredient

The driveway crunches under my tires as I pull up to Logan and Primrose’s farmhouse. I’m so nervous, you’d think I wasn’t invited to the wedding. The guests aren’t here yet, but my mouth feels dry the second I spotthem. Shane gestures animatedly, his whiskey sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his glass, while Heaven shakes her head at whatever he’s saying. Next to them, Ian and Amelie stand side by side, his hand on the back of a chair, hers curled around a wineglass. They look relaxed. Comfortable.

The backyard spreads out behind the house, transformed into something out of a magazine. Twinkling lights hang from the towering oak trees, casting a shimmering glow over the space. Round tables covered in crisp white linens are scattered across the lawn, lanterns line the stone pathways, and a wooden arch wrapped in ivy and blush pink roses stands at the edge of the yard, overlooking the rolling fields. It’s beautiful. Romantic. I can see Primrose’s entire personality behind it.

I take a breath, adjust my tie, and step out of the car.

Time to face the music.

I step onto the lawn and make my way toward them. The moment Shane spots me, his easy grin falters, the story he was animatedly spinning fizzling into nothing. Heaven follows his gaze, and while her expression doesn’t harden like the others, there’s still a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Ian straightens and Amelie goes completely still, her grip on the stem of her glass turning bone-white.

No one says anything. It’s like I walked straight into a brick wall of awkward silence.

I clear my throat. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Heaven says after a beat, offering me a small, hesitant nod. The only one.

Ian nods stiffly, Shane takes another sip of his drink, and Amelie—well, Amelie just stares at me like she’s debating whether or not to dump her wine over my head.

“Look,” Heaven finally says, shifting slightly between us. “I get that you guys have your issues, but today is for Primrose and Logan, so can we put all of it behind us? For them?”