but he’ll get the picture when Friday comes and the air’s been let out of the tires and our pilot suddenly wins an all-expenses-paid vacation to anywhere that’s not here.
“—son would like to say a few words.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
I paused inches from the door to the terrace. There was no reason I should’ve. His voice didn’t hold power over me anymore. But still, I stopped. And even worse, I turned.
“I’m not going to hold up much more of your night,” Preston began. “After speeches, Mom opens up the bar, and with impending marriages bearing down on us, I’m sure most of you are looking to get drunk.”
I spun to leave.
“I came up here to tell you,” Preston got out in a rush, “the story about how I met Cinderella.”
If he meant to stop my retreat. It worked.
“One day, a not-very-good day, I escaped to one of my favorite places. There was a girl there—so beautiful and sad because she ran from her life and only made it as far as the garden. That girl didn’t believe her fairy godmother was coming to save her.”
Slowly, I twisted and those golden orbs trapped me again.
“I wanted to be her knight in shining armor. To tell her that she didn’t need magic or fairies. I was right here.” Preston took the mic off the stand. He spoke to everyone but looked only at me. “But Cinderella didn’t want me to be her knight. What she truly needed was the strength to change her life and someone to believe that she could.”
Mrs. Desai approached her son, likely to cut short his seemingly pointless story. She squeezed his shoulder and got no response. Following his line of sight, she landed on me.
“I walked out of her life hoping I’d see her again, but deep down knowing fate didn’t give second chances. I gave up on finding Cinderella, and then one night... she was there.”
“Preston.” Mrs. Desai came through the speaker. As did her subtle hint to wrap it up.
He continued like she hadn’t spoken. “Out of nowhere, she appeared to remind me that if I wanted something, I had to get off my ass and take it. One time was luck. Two times is a miracle, and a third chance doesn’t happen unless you make your own fate.
“I know most of you guys,” Preston said. “I’ve watched you moon over the same girl for four years, or walked in on you in the broom closet with the guy from third period.”
“Preston,” Mrs. Desai hissed over a mix of titters and cleared throats.
“If you’re looking for advice from me, here it is. Forget that we’re young and this whole marriage/Hunger Games thing we’re doing on a secluded island is old-fashioned and weird as hell. If there’s a girl or guy there that you see even the possibility of a future with, then go for it. Don’t hold back. Don’t cross your fingers wishing for a second, third, or fourth chance.”
My swallow lodged around the lump in my throat. His speech burrowed deep, seeking my walls, and sounding the trumpet to bring them crumbling down.
“Cinderella will walk off that island with someone else.” Preston took a step like he was going to climb off the stage and come to me. “Unless you give her a reason to choose you.”
The audience burst into applause, and I took off. Not to the garden that did a terrible job of providing me sanctuary.
No. The click-clacks of my heels echoed in my ears. Their cheers were fading and Preston was growing closer. Bigger. Less beautiful as his swollen nose came into sharp focus. I didn’t know what I planned to do, and neither did Preston. He stiffened as I stomped on the stage, but my raised arm wasn’t preparing to deliver another blow.
“Lovely speech, Preston. Mind if I have a go?”
“Belle, after this, let me explain—”
“No.” I ripped the mic out of his grip and spun on the guests. “How about it, everyone? One more round of applause for Preston.”
They complied, whooping it up for their friend and golden boy.
“You really liked that speech?” I cocked my head. “You bought that story about meeting some random girl by chance and pining because he couldn’t be her knight in shining armor?”
The cheers died a slow death.
“Dear, speeches are over. Please, take your—” Rosalie made a grab for the mic and I swiftly ducked her.
“Preston says to forget that we’re young and most of us haven’t hit our twenties yet. We should forget