His Password Was Her Birthday, So I Canceled Our Wedding novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Signature Dishes

Justine's parents land and she takes them to the lunch she booked, where the other family has taken the room and the banner; she walks out, and Maureen tells her the hall is still booked for five.

Clive pulled over under a streetlight and handed me his phone.

"I wanted you to see this before you slept on it," he said.

The wedding account followed exactly one person.

Gianna.

It had liked every post she'd made since January, and she had posted about our wedding forty times.

Clive took the phone back.

"You can say it's a hacked account," he said. "I looked for that excuse for an hour. It's his phone doing the liking."

I did not cry in his car.

I said, "My parents land at noon. I booked them a table at Marchetti's two weeks ago."

"Then I'll drive you," Clive said.

At noon the next day my parents came through the gate at JFK, and this time they were the right ones.

My mother held me for a long time.

My father looked at my bare left hand and said nothing, which is how he says most things.

The ring was in my coat pocket.

Clive carried their bags to his truck and didn't ask for a word of thanks.

Marchetti's is a place you book a month ahead.

I had asked for the private room, the one with the long window, and I had ordered a banner for it.

I pushed the door open and the room was already full.

Half-eaten plates covered the table.

My banner hung over it, and someone had pasted a new name over mine.

Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Santoro.

The talking stopped.

Brendan rose from the middle of the table with a pleasant face.

"Gianna's parents wanted to taste the signature dishes," he said. "So we started early."

Marchetti's changes a reservation only for the person who made it.

I had made it, and I had not touched it since.

Gianna had been inside my account again.

He had a waiter bring three more chairs and set them at the far end.

The Santoros sat in the center, with his mother Maureen on one side and Gianna on the other.

My parents and I took the end by the door.

Gianna came around the table at once and took both my mother's hands.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry about the flights," she said. "It was a terrible mix-up. Please let me pour you some wine."

She was kind.

She pushed her sleeves to her elbows to lift the bottle, and her wrists were bare.

My mother thanked her, because my mother thanks everyone.

Maureen linked her arm through Carla's.

"It's been too long since our families sat together," she said.

"If Gianna hadn't gone to Europe and ended things, we'd have been in-laws years ago."

For half an hour they traded stories about summers at the shore and a christening in the Bronx.

Nobody said my name.

My father lifted his wineglass to propose a toast and set it down again, because nobody turned.

Carla pressed a napkin to her chest.

"Brendan, there's something you never knew," she said.

"The day Gianna heard you were engaged, she shut herself in the bathroom with a razor."

"We broke the door down."

"We sat in the emergency room until morning before they told us she would live."

Brendan's hands stopped on the shrimp he was peeling.

I waited for him to look at me.

He looked at his plate.

"That was a long time ago, Carla," he said evenly. "She's here and she's fine. Let's not dig it up."

Then he put the shrimp he had peeled for me into Gianna's bowl.

I put my fork down.

"I'm going to say this once," I said. "You all miss each other so much. Have your wedding without me."

The room was very quiet.

"Justine," Brendan said, in the warning voice. "Sit down. You're embarrassing your parents."

"Our families haven't seen each other in years. Let them enjoy one lunch."

My father pushed back his chair.

"Get your coat," he said to my mother.

Brendan did not rise.

He did not follow.

I walked out with my parents between me and the door, and nobody at that table stopped eating.

In the hall by the coat check, someone caught my sleeve.

It was Maureen, with her pearls and her lavender coat.

She had followed me out, quickly and quietly, so no one would hear.

"Don't make a scene in front of a hundred and forty guests," she said. "The hall is booked for five o'clock."

"I canceled the hall," I said.

"You canceled it from your phone. Brendan reopened the booking this morning on his card."

"The guests never got a cancellation, dear. They are already getting dressed."

She patted my hand.

"Everyone will be there at five," she said. "You will be there too."

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