I Left Him at the Altar, So the Best Man Took Me Off the Island novel · Chapter 32 of 40

Chapter 32: The Empty Chair

"I'm going," Ansel said.

He stood at the stove on Thanksgiving morning with the invitation in his hand.

The snow had turned to a gray crust on the porch rail, and the whole Point smelled of woodsmoke.

I sat on the bed with my knees up and my hands around a mug.

"To Constance's," I said.

"To say no."

"You can say no from here. You can say it on a postcard," I said.

"I want to say it to her face. At her table."

"Why?"

"Because she asked me there," he said. "And because I haven't been inside that house since July, and I'd like to leave it once on my own legs."

I didn't answer.

He put the invitation on the stove lid and turned to look at me.

"Gen. What is it?"

"Nothing," I said.

"You've gone quiet," he said.

"I'm always quiet."

"No," he said gently. "That's me."

I put the mug down.

It was a stupid thing, and I had known it for a week, and I had told no one.

"She'll make you an offer," I said. "She's going to put a seat in front of you with your name on it. Your father's chair. The ham, the old silver, the people who knew you at fourteen."

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