Tyler’s expression softened for half a second, then hardened again.
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
There was a heavy silence.
One of the waiters peeked into the room, sensed the tension, and quickly backed out.
A few of the other guests, people I didn’t even know, looked like they wanted to melt into their seats. They had been enjoying the show up until now.
Now it was getting real.
Brooke glanced at my mother, who gave her a slight nod, some kind of unspoken signal that told me they’d been on the same wavelength for months, maybe longer.
Brooke folded her arms.
“Fine. You want us to beg? Not happening. You made your point. You’re not part of this family. You never have been. And Tyler doesn’t need your money to get married.”
“Good,” I said, standing tall. “Because he’s not getting it.”
My mom scoffed.
“You really think we can’t find another venue? That we’ll cancel the whole wedding over this?”
“I don’t think you’ll cancel it,” I said. “But you won’t find a place like the Palisade with less than 4 months to go. Not during wedding season. And even if you do, you’ll be starting from scratch. New vendors, new permits, new deposits. You’ll spend triple what I put down just trying to match it.”
My uncle opened his mouth to argue, then slowly closed it.
Tyler looked like he wanted to fight me. His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw tight.
But he knew I was right.
“I didn’t do this to ruin your wedding,” I said. “I did it because for once, I thought I could be part of something. Because I wanted to believe that maybe things had changed.”
No one said a word.
Not even Brooke, whose perfect posture was starting to crack under the pressure.
I nodded once slowly, then gathered the folder from the table and tucked it back into my bag.
“I’ll send the venue a cancellation notice tomorrow,” I said as I turned to leave. “Good luck finding a replacement. Oh, and you might want to warn your vendors. A lot of them were booked through my connections.”
That was the last thing I said before I walked out.
I didn’t look back.
Not when I heard my uncle mutter, “What just happened?”
Not when Brooke hissed something under her breath.
Not even when I caught the faint sound of my mother calling my name. Sharp and furious, like I’d stolen something that was rightfully hers.
Outside, the night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the stuffy tension I’d just escaped. I stood under the awning for a minute, breathing it in.
My hands were shaking, not from nerves, but from the weight of years finally settling into place.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
Not yet.
I felt free and a little hollow, like the part of me that had always hoped they’d change had finally given up.
I turned my phone off as I walked to my car.
I already knew there would be texts, maybe even voicemails, apologies, insults, bargaining attempts, maybe all three in the same message.