Chapter 11: The Barrel Room

Willa's POV

"You said yes," I said again.

Cillian stood very still in the wet grass.

"I did."

"To my sister. To a chain on the gate and a camera and a person who says there's no wedding."

"I said yes to the first version. In March. I thought it was a surprise party."

"And in May?"

"In May I understood what she wanted."

"And you took the date back."

"That night."

"And you didn't call me."

"No."

I looked at the lit window and at my mother's shadow moving behind the curtain.

"Not here," I said. "Not where she can hear."

He walked me to the barrel room.

It was a long stone cellar, cool and dry, with oak barrels racked along both walls and one bulb burning at the far end.

It smelled of wine and wet wood.

I stood in the middle of the floor and turned around.

"Say it all," I said. "From the beginning. Don't leave out the part you like."

"The part I like?"

"There's always one. Tell me yours."

He took a breath.

"I said yes because I thought you might drive up to my gate," he said. "Even for one afternoon. Even in a veil. I wanted to see you."

I had not expected that.

It went through me, and it made me angrier.

"So you were going to watch me get humiliated for the pleasure of seeing me."

"No. That was March. In March I thought it was a cake in a box and a hundred people yelling surprise."

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