The Wedding Was A Game And Her Father Was The Prize Chapter 08
Nolan stayed in Munich.
He got a place a few blocks from mine.
He didn’t come close. He didn’t speak.
He just kept his distance.
Sometimes he was holding a takeaway breakfast. Sometimes flowers. Sometimes the mille-feuille I’d once mentioned, in passing, that I liked.
I didn’t accept a single one.
Dad caught sight of him once and sighed.
“Claire, if you’re still hurting, just yell at him a little.”
“Don’t keep it in.”
I shook my head.
“Dad, I’m not keeping anything in. I really don’t care anymore.”
Hating someone actually takes energy.
And Nolan Ashford wasn’t worth another ounce of mine.
I put everything I had into the new life.
Days with Dad in physical therapy. Nights at the design school.
After my advisor saw a few of my pieces, she recommended I enter a local competition, the Munich Young Designer Award.
I pulled several all-nighters and put together a full evening-gown collection.
The day I turned in my portfolio, I walked out of the school and saw Nolan again.
He was standing in the shade of a tree by the curb, a folder clutched in one hand.
“Claire.”
He said it softly, and I stopped.
There was a time when a single “stop making a scene” from him would send me into days of spiraling, wondering if I really was being too sensitive.
There was a time when him covering for Bianca with a line like “she’s only kidding” would make me choke my own hurt down.
He looked like he had a great deal to say.
In the end, he only held out the folder.
“Bianca’s case has been officially charged.”
“The wedding footage, the cake order receipts, your ER records from Mass General, the group chat screenshots, and the proof that she knew about your leech allergy and forced the cake into your mouth anyway. I turned it all over to the police.”
“She’s been indicted on assault with intent to cause serious bodily harm. She’s in custody.”
“The people who mocked you in the group chat will make public apologies.”
I didn’t take the folder from him.
Whatever happened to Bianca, she had earned it.
But Nolan doing this now didn’t undo the years he had spent letting it happen.
He had watched Bianca turn me into her favorite bet, over and over, and he had never actually stopped her.
His hand stayed frozen in the air.
Slowly, it dropped back down.
“Claire. There’s really no chance for me, is there?”
I didn’t answer.
The silence was the answer.
Whatever last bit of light had been in his eyes went out.
I stepped around him and walked toward my apartment.
No footsteps followed.
Not long after that, his assistant finally talked him into flying back to Boston.
And any connection left between us was severed for good.