Love Expires and Won't Wait

I'd booked a candlelit dinner for two, well in advance.

The waiter looked at the three of us and hesitated, then asked if we'd like to move to a bigger table.

Before I could answer, Janice Pruitt cut in with a smile.

No need, the three of us are super close! We'll just squeeze in together.

Lewis Henson turned to her almost automatically and smiled.

"Yeah, let's squeeze in. Janice is so thin, she doesn't take up any room like you do."

They went back and forth like that, perfectly in sync.

I sat across from them, like an outsider who didn't belong.

I'd lost count of how many times a scene like this had played out.

All at once I felt tired.

This time, I didn't want to squeeze in with them anymore.

Janice, in a little white dress, hooked her arm through Lewis's, beaming.

She lowered her voice. "Celeste Swanson, I'm so sorry, I'm crashing your anniversary again."

Her mouth said sorry, but there wasn't a trace of guilt in her eyes.

Lewis shifted to shield her without thinking, his gaze soft.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who insisted on bringing you."

From start to finish, his eyes stayed on Janice. He never once looked up at me.

Not long after, a video call came in from Lewis's older sister, Myra Henson.

Once it connected, Myra never mentioned me the entire time.

She fussed over Janice, warm and full of concern.

"Janice, out with Lewis again? Make sure you eat plenty of what you like. Come by the house more often, the whole family adores you!"

The call ended, and Lewis put a couple of pieces of food onto Janice's plate.

Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he remembered me sitting across the table.

He looked up and spoke to me, flat and offhand.

"Celeste, get that custom pale blue dress out of your closet and lend it to Janice."

I asked, confused, "Lend it for what? That's my wedding toast dress."

That toast dress was custom-made for me last month. I'd gone all over the city, store to store, to get it done.

Lewis said it like it was nothing.

"Janice has an important industry dinner coming up and she's suddenly short a dress that fits. There's nothing suitable anywhere in the city."

"Just lend her yours for one night. Afterward I'll have it dry-cleaned and sent to you, good as new. It won't get in the way of your wedding at all."

I said, loudly, at once, "No."

"A wedding dress belongs to the couple. The whole point is that it's for one person, one heart."

"There's no lending it out, no wearing it secondhand."

The moment I finished, Lewis's face went cold, his eyes full of impatience.

"Celeste, can you not be so rigid and dramatic? What century is this? Why are you clinging to this superstitious nonsense?"

"It's not superstition. It's my dress to begin with, and I'm not lending it."

I stared at him, my breathing a little uneven.

"I only get married once in my life. This is my wedding dress. Why should Janice get to borrow it first just to look good in front of a crowd?"

Lewis frowned. "It's just a dress. One night. What difference does it make?"

"You have to dig in over something this small? That's blowing it way out of proportion. Petty."

"Janice only came to me because she had no other option. Can't you be a little bigger than this?"

It was absurd.

To him, the toast dress I'd spent over a month running around for was just an ordinary piece of clothing he could hand off to anyone.

One last-minute dinner for Janice, one he couldn't solve after combing the whole city, and he'd even ask his own fiance to give up her wedding dress.

Utterly ridiculous.

I clenched my fists tight and, in the end, didn't give in.

Seeing that I wouldn't budge, Lewis lost his patience.

"Fine. Forget it, then."

He saw my furrowed brow, my blank face, and said coldly:

"What's with the cold face again? Killing the mood, aren't you?"

I asked him calmly:

"You bring another woman along to every date the two of us have. Do you think that's appropriate?"

He blanked for a second, then gave a cold laugh.

"Janice and I grew up together. We're just like brother and sister. Can you stop reading into everything, being so petty?"

I laughed coldly.

Last month, when my period cramps were so bad I curled up in bed in a cold sweat, I begged him to buy me a cup of hot ginger tea.

He shook my hand off, face full of disgust, and called me a drama queen.

But when Janice mentioned in the middle of the night, offhand, that she wanted the roasted candied chestnuts from the street stall,

he'd get in the car without a word, even in a downpour, and drive the whole street just to make her happy.

All his tenderness, all his understanding, he'd never spared any of it for me.

For the rest of the meal, I didn't say another word.

Back at the apartment, the night was deep.

I stood alone on the balcony and called my best friend, Anne Fox.

The line connected.

"Anne, I've decided."

"I'm coming to Southport with you to open the studio."

Anne could hardly believe it.

"Celeste, are you sure? Aren't you getting married any minute now?"

I looked up at the pitch-black sky.

"I'm sure."

"Hold my share of the studio for me. I can leave anytime."

This crowded relationship, I'm out.

The weekend brought a Henson family dinner to celebrate Fiona Henson's sixtieth birthday.

I bought a proper gift well in advance and arrived at the Henson house on time to help.

Even if I was going to leave, I told myself, I'd keep some dignity about it.

I'd barely changed out of my shoes and stepped inside when every gaze swept past me and landed on the person behind me, on Janice.

Lewis had her favorite dessert in one hand, the other hovering at the small of her back. The gesture came easy and practiced, as if she were the one about to become his wife.

"Janice, you're here! Sit, sit!"

Fiona was the first to hurry over, gripping Janice's hand tight, her face all indulgence.

Seth Henson smiled and picked up the thread. "I know you love the glazed barbecue ribs, so the kitchen set some aside just for you. Nobody's touched them."

Myra was even more thoughtful, sliding over a whole plate of strawberries. "Just washed. Have plenty."

The four of them clustered around Janice, fussing and warm, the whole room glowing with it.

I stood in the corner with my heavy gift, unnoticed, an outsider they could see right through.

I walked quietly to an empty seat at the edge and sat down. I was long used to being left out in the cold.

At the table, Lewis's attention stayed fixed on Janice, his chopsticks working nonstop. "This one's good for the stomach. Yours is delicate, eat more of it."

"Don't touch the seafood, you're allergic. Did you forget?"

She knew every one of Janice's likes and every little ailment by heart.

She had no idea I'd had chronic stomach trouble for years, that I couldn't touch anything cold or spicy.

The mood was still bright when Janice suddenly let her smile fade, forcing a troubled look onto her face. "Auntie, Uncle, Lewis, Myra, there's something that's been worrying me so much lately."

Fiona asked at once, "What is it, Janice? Whatever the trouble is, just tell us, we'll all help you."

Janice bit her lip and said, in a small, wounded voice, "My award ceremony just got a date, and it falls on the exact same day as Lewis's wedding."

"Which means, the day I go up to accept it, none of you will be able to come see me, will you?"

"I'm sorry, I..."

The words landed and the table went silent in an instant.

But it didn't last. One by one, the relatives spoke up.

"Oh no, what terrible timing! Janice is so accomplished, and she finally earned this award!"

"Exactly, Janice! A career milestone like that, how important is that! A wedding's just a formality!"

Fiona turned her head to look at me.

"Celeste, be reasonable about this."

"We'll just move the wedding to the evening. That way it won't clash with Janice's award, and it won't hold up the two of you getting married."

Every eye at the table swung to me at once.

I lifted my gaze, took in the faces around me, and spoke calmly.

"But the way I've heard it, only second weddings are held in the evening."

"Unless this is Lewis's second marriage?"

The words were barely out of my mouth.

Lewis mocked me on the spot, his tone thick with displeasure and blame.

"What kind of backward thinking is that?"

"What century are we in, still splitting things into day and night? That's pure superstition, none of it holds up."

"This award means everything to Janice's career. It comes once in a lifetime."

"You bend a little and shift the time, so what? Do you have to be this cold about it?"

To him, the wedding I'd treasured my whole life came nowhere close to one ceremony that was only icing on Janice's cake.

Looking at every face at that table lined up on Janice's side, I felt all the will to argue drain out of me.

There was no need to fight. No need to explain.

I said flatly, "Fine. Move it to the evening, then."

The dinner broke up, the relatives all left, and Fiona made a point of coming over to me.

"Celeste, let me be honest with you," she said.

"That girl Janice has no one to lean on, she's soft and fragile, it breaks your heart. The whole family adores her."

"You're Lewis's fiance, sensible and gracious. Give in to her more. Stop always competing with her."

I raised my eyes and looked at her evenly. "Auntie, I've never once competed with her over anything."

"You didn't compete? Then who's the sour face for?"

Fiona wouldn't let it go. "A girl shouldn't be so petty. How else will you build a good life together later on?"

Just then Lewis came over and backed her up.

"My mother's right. You really are too sensitive, too dramatic."

The night we got engaged, after the guests had gone, one of his buddies had grabbed him and pressed him on why he'd chosen Celeste Swanson.

He'd leaned back against the couch, his eyes glassy with drink.

"Nothing special. She's just suitable. Sensible, low-maintenance, doesn't cost me any effort. She's fine for settling down with."

I'd been hiding around the bend of the staircase when I heard it, and I still made excuses for him like a fool, telling myself it was just the liquor talking.

So from the very start, I'd only ever been his sensible, suitable choice.

I gave Fiona a small nod and didn't argue anymore. "I understand."

There was no point making a scene, and even less point in hoping.

The studio down south was already settled. My new life was on its way.

This Henson family that had never had room for me, this relationship that had never been mine, I didn't want to stay in for a single moment longer.

The dinner ended, and the rain came down in sheets under a low, sullen sky.

Lewis drove us home, and Janice sat in the passenger seat that had always been his.

Because, they said, that was how the two of them had sat since they were kids.

I was curled up alone in the cold back seat, like a passenger nobody had needed to bring.

The rain was heavy, the wipers swinging without pause.

The road was slick and hard to drive, and the tires slipped more than once.

Halfway home, the car ahead braked suddenly, and Lewis wrenched the wheel hard.

In that split second, instinct never lies.

I saw it clearly.

Lewis didn't hesitate for a moment. He threw out his arm and clamped it tight around Janice in the passenger seat, his whole body leaning her way without thinking.

His voice came out rattled. "Janice! Don't be scared! I've got you!"

In the instant that split life from death, every ounce of his care went to Janice.

In the back seat, I had nothing to protect me.

The force flung me forward, and my side slammed against the hard corner of the seat.

A sharp, bone-deep pain spread through me all at once, until my whole body went numb and my face drained white.

Once the car came to a stop.

Lewis's first move was to soothe Janice, patting her back gently.

He asked, soft, "Are you all right? Did you hit anything? Does it hurt?"

Janice's eyes went red, and she shook her head weakly.

"I'm fine, Lewis. Don't worry about me."

The two of them gazed at each other, comforting each other.

And forgot completely about me in the back, in too much pain to sit up straight.

Only after a few minutes did Lewis glance back at me, careless about it.

He saw me clutching my side, my face white, cold sweat on my forehead.

Then, in no hurry at all, he said.

"Now what's wrong with you?"

I bit down on my trembling lip and got the words out, my voice raw. "I hit my side. It really hurts. It might already be swelling."

One honest sentence, and all it earned me was a harsher rebuke.

"The car isn't even dented. How much could it possibly hurt?"

Lewis's brows drew together, his tone colder still.

"Celeste, can you stop grabbing every chance to play the victim and fish for sympathy?" "Can't you learn a little from how sensible and gracious Janice is?"

At that, Janice suddenly spoke up, soft and low.

"Lewis, don't be hard on Celeste. It's my fault."

"If I hadn't come along today, none of this would've happened to her. It's all on me."

"It has nothing to do with you at all."

Lewis defended her at once, no questions asked.

He turned to me. "You hear that? Even Janice is more sensible than you. Stop making a scene."

Last fall, Janice only twisted her ankle a little while walking and scraped off a bit of skin.

Lewis was frantic, drove her to the hospital that same night to get her checked and X-rayed, and sat at her bedside all night without closing his eyes.

I ran a fever of a hundred and two with acute gastroenteritis, throwing up and worse, too weak to leave my bed.

He never showed up, not once. All he said was to drink plenty of hot water.

Slowly I let go of the hand pressed to my side, the pain still spreading, bone-deep.

But my heart had already gone completely numb and cold.

I steadied my breathing and said it calmly.

"Lewis, let's break up."

He couldn't be bothered to argue, just started the car with a cold face. "Enough. Shut up. We're going home."

The rain hammered against the windows, a hard, rattling drumbeat.

Just like my broken heart.

Back at the apartment, I went up alone, lifted my shirt, and found a wide stretch of purple-black bruising across my side.

I took out my phone and messaged Anne again.

"The studio goes ahead as planned. I'll fly over soon."

This was the road I should have chosen a long time ago.

Friday night, Lewis went out for dinner with the guys.

He brought Janice along, the same as always.

I said nothing, the way I always did, and went on playing my part: the spare, the invisible one.

All night, everyone egged the two of them on.

"Lewis and Janice are the real match, childhood sweethearts, it's too perfect!"

"Inseparable all these years. You two should've been together ages ago!"

The teasing came in waves, one after another.

Lewis didn't deny it. He didn't explain either.

I sat in the corner, not talking, not smiling, like a stranger who didn't matter.

A little past ten, dinner broke up.

Janice stood at the door and offered to head off on her own.

"Lewis, you've had too much. I won't get in the way of you and Celeste. I'll go on ahead."

She left, quick and clean.

Dumping a dead-drunk Lewis, reeking of alcohol, on me.

I struggled to hold up his dead weight, moving him back to the apartment one step at a time.

I eased him down onto the couch and turned to go pour him a glass of warm water.

That was when the man behind me murmured, low.

Every word clear.

Drunk, he'd let the mask fall.

He said the truth he would never admit sober.

"Janice, my Janice."

"You're the one I've loved most my whole life."

My steps stopped mid-turn.

Hearing those words now, my heart skipped, several beats in a row.

It was hard to breathe. And it ached.

"Too bad you were too young back then, never willing to settle down."

"I had no choice. I could only pick Celeste."

"She's obedient, sensible, no fuss, no scenes. Easy, suitable. The kind you marry and build a life with."

"To put it plainly, I just settled for her. That's all."

After that there was only his heavy breathing.

The living room was frighteningly quiet.

Every slight, every cold shoulder, all of it had an answer now.

From the very beginning, I was only his second-best fallback.

Janice was the first love he kept at the tip of his heart.

And I was just the tool he used to make a marriage do.

Whatever I'd felt for Lewis shattered in that moment, clean and complete.

I turned toward the bedroom. In the corner, the suitcase I'd packed long ago stood there, quiet.

All my personal things were already sorted and put away.

The flight south, the handover for the studio, everything was already in place.

I took out my phone and blocked Lewis's number, and his messaging app too.

I didn't look back at him one last time.

I wheeled my suitcase out of this relationship, so full of grievance and so much of a joke.

The late-night breeze was cool against my face.

And in that moment I was clearer than I had ever been.

I messaged Anne.

"I land in Southport first thing tomorrow."

From now on, there was no Celeste Swanson in Northgate.

This absurd, crowded relationship, I was the one walking away.

Lewis, I won't be your second-best anymore.

From here on our paths don't cross. You and I are done.