Seventeen Failed Weddings Was Enough

Carter and I were getting married, and he insisted that his ex-wife be our maid of honor.

This was our seventeenth attempt at a wedding. And for the seventeenth time, Becca fainted in Carters arms right as we were about to exchange vows. The ceremony ground to a jarring halt.

Carter scooped her up with a practiced, rhythmic ease, his face a mask of grim determination as he announced the wedding was off. Again.

I didn't break down this time. I didn't scream or beg. I just stood there in my Vera Wang, watching the man I loved prepare to carry another woman out of our life together.

Carter, I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the confused guests. If you walk out that door today, were done. There is no tomorrow for us.

He paused, looking back with a flicker of annoyance, as if I were the one being unreasonable. June, you know shes carrying my child. Shes my responsibility. I can't just leave her.

He adjusted his grip on her. You wouldn't want to marry a man who abandons his duties, would you? Be a good girl. Ill take Becca back to our place so she can rest in the master suite. Stay here, apologize to the guests, and when youre done, come home and make us some dinner. Well talk then.

As the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind him, I reached up and ripped the cathedral-length veil from my hair, taking a few strands of scalp with it. I stared at the ceiling, blinking hard to force the stinging tears back into my skull.

My phone vibrated in my lace clutch. An old, familiar number.

Left at the altar again? the voice teased, sharp and brimming with a dark kind of amusement. You really should have just married me, June.

I took a shaky breath, my resolve hardening into something cold and crystalline. If youre still asking, the answer is yes.

There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then, his tone shifted, the playfulness replaced by a low, gravelly seriousness. Are you for real? Because if you are, Im getting on a plane.

Before I could breathe a word, he added, June, Im heading to the airport now. If I come back for you this time, Im never letting you go. No regrets.

He hung up.

I drove back to the penthouse we shared, but when I tried the keypad, the red light flashed. The code had been changed.

My stomach dropped. All my things were in thereincluding the hand-stitched silk duvet my mother had finished on her deathbed, her final gift for my wedding night.

I called Carter. He declined. I called again. Voicemail.

Ten minutes later, the door finally groaned open. Carter stood there in his undershirt, looking disheveled.

Sorry, he said, wiping sweat from his brow. I was helping Becca clean up. Shes so far along she cant reach her own back... I couldn't get to the phone.

He saw my expressionor lack of oneand forced a small, condescending smile. He reached out to pull me into his side.

Are you actually jealous? he chuckled, as if I were a child pouting over a lost toy. Shes my ex-wife, June. Theres nothing I haven't seen. We aren't together anymore, but shes family. It was just a sponge bath. Don't be so small-minded.

Okay, I said quietly.

In the past, I would have burned the house down. I would have screamed until my throat bled. But now? I just wanted my mothers quilt.

My lack of a reaction seemed to unnerve him. He cleared his throat. By the way, I changed the door code to Beccas birthday. Shes got pregnancy brainkept forgetting the old one.

He watched me closely, waiting for the explosion.

Fine, I replied.

He hesitated, his hand reaching for mine, but a sharp "Oh!" drifted from upstairs. Carter didn't even look at me; he practically shoved me aside to bolt up the stairs.

I lost my balance, my heel catching on the rug. I hit the floor hard, a sickening pop echoing from my ankle. Pain flared, white and blinding.

By the time I managed to crawl to the hallway and grab the first-aid kit, Carter was coming back down. He snatched the kit out of my hands without a word and turned to head back up.

Carter, I hissed through gritted teeth.

He stopped, his back to me.

Im hurt, too.

When he turned around, his eyes weren't filled with concern. They were filled with a scorching, weary disgust.

Do you have to turn everything into a competition? he snapped. Cant you just give it a rest for one night?

He disappeared back into the master bedroom.

It took me a long time to stand up. Every step toward the stairs was a jagged bolt of agony. When I finally reached the landing, I saw my life piled in the hallway. My clothes, my shoes, my booksall tossed out like trash.

And there was the quilt. It was crumpled in the corner, covered in the sour, yellow reek of vomit.

Carter stepped out of the bedroom, holding the empty kit. He looked at the mess, then at me, and spoke with the casual tone of a man ordering a coffee.

Good timing. Becca got sick. Go wash the linens, would you?

My fingers trembled as I picked up the silk quilt. The delicate, intricate embroidery my mother had spent months on was matted with filth.

Hand wash only, Carter added, leaning against the doorframe. Don't use the machine. Beccas a light sleeper and she needs the rest. Her ankle is swollen, so shes taking the master bed tonight.

I stood up, my vision blurring with a sudden, violent red. Shes your ex-wife, Carter. You don't think its a little twisted for her to sleep in our marriage bed?

Becca appeared in the doorway then, looking pale and fragile in a silk nightie that looked suspiciously like one of mine.

Carter... maybe I should just go, she whimpered, her voice cracking.

Carter was at her side in an instant. Youre hurt! Where are you going to go?

Just let me leave, she sobbed, leaning into him. Tonight was supposed to be your wedding night. I shouldn't be here.

Carter gripped her wrists, his voice dropping to a low growl. The wedding didn't happen, Becca. There is no wedding night.

He looked at her with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Youre the one who said if we ever split, wed always be there for each other's big moments. Youre staying.

He swept her up into his arms. As she "struggled" half-heartedly, the strap of her nightgown slipped, exposing her shoulder, her skin glowing in the hallway light. Carter didn't even look away.

I didn't stay to watch the rest of the soap opera. I gathered the ruined quilt and retreated to the guest room.

Surprisingly, I didn't cry. I didn't lie awake wondering what Id done wrong. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But in the gray hours of the morning, I felt a hand sliding under the covers.

I bolted upright, adrenaline spiking, and shoved the person away. It was Carter, his shirt unbuttoned, his eyes dark and heavy.

Don't touch me, I spat.

His face contorted into a mask of cold fury. June, I know youre upset about yesterday, but Ive been working my ass off all day and I came in here to make it up to you. Don't push your luck.

I stared at him, feeling a profound sense of revulsion. I don't want it. Go back upstairs to Becca.

He sighed, his voice softening into that manipulative, 'reasonable' tone he used whenever he wanted something. How long are you going to keep this up? Ive told you a thousand times: Becca is my past. You are my future. Im only looking after her out of duty. Why can't you just understand that?

I let out a harsh, jagged laugh. I let her ruin seventeen weddings, Carter. I think Ive been plenty understanding.

He flinched, his ego bruised. Youre being impossible!

He slammed the door so hard the pictures on the wall rattled.

Years ago, I would have chased him. I would have apologized for my "tone" and begged for a scrap of his affection.

But lying there in the dark, I just felt hollow. My eighteen-year-old self wouldn't have believed itthat a decade of obsessive, bone-deep love could end with such a pathetic whimper.

I remembered the day it started. I was eighteen, climbing over the school fence to cut class, and I fell. Carter caught me. One look into those dark eyes and I was gone.

I spent years molding myself into what I thought he wanted. I went abroad for school because his family suggested it. When I came back and found out hed married someone else, I stayed in a hotel room and cried for a month.

When he got divorced and ended up in a body cast after a car wreck, I begged my father to let me use our family's influence to help him. I spent six months in a hospital room, cleaning him, feeding him, pulling him out of the darkness.

When he finally proposed, I thought Id won. I didn't find out until later that Becca had announced her new boyfriend the very same day.

I wasn't his choice. I was his consolation prize.

I finally drifted off, and when I woke, a knock at the door startled me.

Get up, Carters voice came through the wood. Breakfast is ready.

I blinked. He had never made me breakfast. My stomach grumbledI hadn't eaten since the rehearsal dinner.

When I walked into the dining room, the table was covered. Crepes, eggs benedict, fresh fruit, artisanal pastries. It was a feast.

I reached for a plate, but Carters hand shot out, blocking me.

Wait your turn, he snapped, his brow furrowed. Were waiting for everyone.

He caught himself, his expression shifting to something more neutral. Beccas cravings are all over the place. Let her pick what she wants first.

I didn't say anything. I turned around, went to the pantry, and grabbed a slice of dry toast.

Carter followed me into the kitchen. Listen, when Becca and I were married, we never had a real wedding. I want to give her that. A 'do-over' ceremony.

I froze, the toast like ash in my mouth. I almost had to laugh. Of course. The breakfast wasn't a gift; it was a bribe.

And? I asked, turning to face him.

Shes too tired to plan anything. I want you to handle the details. Youve got plenty of experience with weddings, and you know what I like. Becca will send you her Pinterest board later.

I stared at him, wondering if he was actually insane. Carter, youre asking your fiance to plan a wedding for you and your ex-wife?

Do you have any idea how much of a laughingstock I am because of those seventeen failed ceremonies? My voice rose, the dam finally breaking.

The first wedding, I was so happy. I thought I was finally marrying the love of my life. Becca was the maid of honor, and I was naive enough to think it was a sign of maturity. Then she threw up on my dress in front of the altar. Carter carried her away and left me standing there. He spent the next twenty-four hours on his knees, begging for my forgiveness.

The second time, she showed up in a white gown identical to mine. He walked her down the aisle by mistake.

The third time, she slit her wrists in the bathroom. He broke the door down and forgot I existed.

Every time he left, he came back with a ring, a car, a promise. By the seventeenth time, he didn't even bother to lie. He just knew I wouldn't leave.

But he forgot one thing. Beyond the "love," our relationship was a contract between two powerful families. And that contract had an expiration date.

The project our families were collaborating on was over. And so was my love for him.

Seeing the tears in my eyes, Carter looked momentarily flustered. Look, if its too much...

He stopped as Becca entered the room, dragging a suitcase. She looked like a martyr.

Carter, I was just joking! I can't believe you actually asked June to plan our wedding, she said, her eyes downcast. I shouldn't have come back. Ill just leave and raise the baby on my own. I won't make things difficult for June.

She let a single, perfect tear fall and bowed to me. June, the baby... it was an accident. I was drugged at a party, and Carter was just trying to save me...

Seeing her "trauma" resurface, Carter turned on me with a snarl. June, for Gods sake! Shes pregnant. As a woman, have you no empathy?

He swept her into his arms again. Come on. Im taking you to try on dresses.

As he passed me, he leaned in, his voice a cold whisper. The planning details will be in your inbox by five. Don't be a brat. This is part of your job.

I stood in the silent kitchen for a long time. Then, my phone chimed.

June, what kind of wedding do you want?

It was Brooks.

The flight was delayed. Im sitting at the gate, thinking we should settle the details now. What do you think?

I laughed until I cried. My "fianc" was forcing me to plan his wedding to his ex, while the man Id called my rival for years was asking what I wanted.

I replied to Brooks. Then, I opened Instagram.

Becca had already posted a carousel of photos. Her in a lace gown, Carter holding her waist. The caption: The Final Chapter.

The comments were a cesspool of "I knew theyd find their way back" and heart emojis.

And there was a comment from Carters official account: Don't be silly. Youll always be the mother of my child.

The ring on her finger in the photo was the one Carter had never managed to put on mine during our seventeen ceremonies.

It felt like a physical weight was being lifted off my chest. I liked the post, closed the app, and sent my resignation to HR.

The HR director called me within minutes. June? Does Carter know about this?

Did you see Beccas post? I asked, my voice calm. Its his wish. Just process it and send me the confirmation.

Ten minutes later, the signed exit papers were in my inbox.

Then, Carter called. His voice was sharp, commanding. Get to the Sapphire Club. Now.

I was about to hang up when he added, Our friends are all here. Theyre waiting for you.

I hesitated. I didn't want to make a scene in front of our social circle. I figured Id go, say my goodbyes, and leave for good.

But when I walked into the private lounge, Becca was sitting in the center of the room, daintily wiping a smudge of food from Carters lip.

She stopped when she saw me, flashing a shy, guilty smile. Oh, sorry, June. Old habits die hard. Come, sit here.

She made a move to stand up, but Carter pressed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down.

Its fine, I said, taking a seat by the door.

Carters eyes narrowed. He gripped his scotch glass a little tighter.

Throughout the dinner, he kept glancing at me, trying to gauge my reaction. He even peeled a plate of shrimp and pushed it toward me.

I looked at the plate, then at him. Im allergic to shellfish, Carter.

He blinked, a flicker of genuine confusionand maybe shamecrossing his face.

Becca seized the moment. Oh, June, don't be mad. Carter probably just remembered that I love shrimp. Hes so forgetful lately.

She was trying to bait me. Usually, I would have snapped. I would have made a scene and looked like the "crazy" one.

Instead, I just pushed the plate toward her. Then you should have them.

Carter stared at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. Becca tried to get his attention, but he was locked onto me.

June, Becca said, standing up with a glass of champagne. I feel terrible about everything. Let me make a toast to you.

She walked over to me, her pregnant belly leading the way. Before anyone could react, she drained half the glass, leaned in, and dumped the rest over my head.

The cold liquid drenched my hair and soaked into my blouse.

The baby wasn't an accident, she whispered into my ear, her voice a venomous hiss. I told him I wanted one, and he gave it to me. Oh, and remember the day your mother died? We did it three times right behind the funeral parlor while you were giving the eulogy.

Suddenly, she threw herself backward.

Ah! My baby! The baby!

Becca! Carter screamed.

SLAP.

The world spun. My cheek exploded in a searing, throbbing heat. It took me a second to realize Carter had hit me.

I sat on the floor, the champagne dripping from my chin, as the tears finally fell.

Carter scooped Becca up. When he looked at me, his eyes were bloodshot, filled with a primal, terrifying hatred.

She organized this whole night just to apologize to you, he roared. And you push her? How can you be so goddamn evil, June?

I stayed on the floor, Beccas words echoing in my head like a death knell.

While I was saying goodbye to the woman who gave me life, the man I loved was rutting against his ex in the shadows of the cemetery.

I looked at Carters retreating back. I will never forgive you for this, I whispered. Not in this life or the next.

He stiffened for a fraction of a second, but he didn't look back.

I stumbled home, dragged my suitcase out of the closet, and walked out. But as I reached the driveway, Carters car swerved in, nearly hitting me.

He jumped out, his face pale, his voice shaking with rage. Why did you do it? Why did you kill my child?

I gripped the handle of my suitcase. I have no idea what youre talking about.

Don't lie to me! he screamed. That hospital is owned by your family! You told them to kill Beccas baby during the exam!

My brain went numb. I didn't do anything.

His phone rang. It was his assistant, his voice frantic even through the speaker. Sir, its Becca. Shes on the roof of the clinic... shes going to jump.

The phone hit the pavement with a crack.

Carter grabbed me by the arm, shoved me into the passenger seat, and drove like a maniac, blowing through every red light.

When we reached the hospital roof, the wind was whipping. Becca was standing on the ledge, looking like a broken bird. Carters breath hitched. He looked like a man watching his entire world dissolve.

Becca, please, he choked out. Don't do this.

Becca saw me and her hysteria reached a fever pitch. It was her! She killed my baby!

She was sobbing, clutching a blood-stained bundle to her chest. You hate me! You can hit me, you can call me names, but why my baby?

I looked at the bundle and felt a wave of nausea.

Sweetheart, don't be scared, Becca cooed to the bundle. Mommys coming to be with you.

No! Carter screamed. He suddenly kicked me behind the knees, forcing me to the concrete. Becca, look! I brought her here to pay for what she did. You can do whatever you want to her. Just come down!

I stared at him, horrified. Carter, I didn't do it!

But he wasn't listening. He was crying now. Its my fault. I shouldn't have divorced you. I didn't protect you.

He looked at me with cold, dead eyes. June, tell her youll do whatever she wants.

Beccas eyes glinted with a momentary triumph. I want her to crawl. I want her to beg my baby for forgiveness. A hundred times.

Fine, Carter said without hesitation.

I want her to kneel at the hospital entrance and let every passerby slap her until her face bleeds.

Fine.

And I want her... I want her to never be able to be a mother. Ever.

Fine! Carter yelled.

The bodyguards grabbed me before I could even scream.

Don't you touch me! I shrieked.

But Carters voice came from above me, cold as a winter grave. Do what she says. Call the surgeon. Perform the hysterectomy.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head was forced against the concrete again and again until the world turned red. The slaps came in a rhythmic blur, my cheeks swelling until I couldn't see.

I finally broke. Carter, please... Im losing consciousness. I can't breathe.

He didn't even look at me. Take her to the OR. No anesthesia. I want her to remember this lesson.

In the operating room, I felt the cold bite of the scalpel. I felt the invasion of the metal. Every cut was a scream that died in my throat until the room faded into blackness.

Just as I was slipping away, the doors to the OR were kicked open.

The surgeon, trembling, held up a tray with a tiny, bloody mass. He ran out to the hallway where Carter was waiting.

Mr. Jared... we didn't know... she was pregnant too...

At that moment, Carters phone rang. It was his grandfather. You idiot! What have you done to June?