“We are not a family, Robert,” I said, my voice echoing with absolute finality. “We share genetics. Nothing more.”
I turned to Nathan, who was watching me with a look of profound, overwhelming pride. He offered me his arm.
“Shall we go, my love?” Nathan asked softly. “The helicopter is waiting on the roof, and I believe you have a global economy to run.”
“Yes,” I smiled, slipping my hand through his arm. “Let’s go.”
We walked out of the ballroom exactly as we had entered: surrounded by an impenetrable wall of security. As we passed through the heavy mahogany doors, I heard the sound of my mother sobbing loudly, Allison screaming at Bradford, and the chaotic, panicked shouting of the Wellington family realizing their utter ruin.
It was the sweetest symphony I had ever heard.
The cool night air hit my face as we stepped out onto the private helipad on the roof of the Fairmont. The massive blades of the black executive helicopter were already spinning, drowning out the noise of the city below.
Nathan pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. He didn’t care that his expensive suit jacket was now permanently stained with the red wine from my dress. He kissed me deeply, fiercely, the wind whipping our hair.
“You were magnificent in there,” Nathan shouted over the roar of the rotors. “I have never loved you more than I do right now.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I smiled, leaning my head against his chest.
“You did that entirely on your own, Meredith,” he corrected gently, tapping my temple. “The power was always right in here. I just provided the dramatic entrance.”
As we boarded the helicopter and lifted off into the dark Boston sky, I pulled out my phone. The screen was already exploding.
Sixty-four missed calls. Over a hundred text messages. Aunts who hadn’t spoken to me in a decade were suddenly inviting me to brunch. My father was sending frantic, lengthy apologies blaming the stress of the wedding. My mother was begging for forgiveness.