Stealing the Groom

Thirty One

XXXI: Farfalla (butterfly)

THE DAYS FOLLOWING Christmas Day passed by quickly and somewhat awkwardly. Max and I were in unknown territory, and neither one of us really knew how to act with one another. It was strange not having Max glare at me every time I entered a room, or a heated debate to unfold any time we were alone for longer than a second. It was a good type of strange; it was change--progress.

The festivities for the upcoming wedding were in full swing, and Simone and the bridesmaid towed me along to all kinds of places. Whether it were showers or brunches or flower shops or cake testings or last-minute fittings, I was kept entertained for the last few days leading up to the wedding.

The bachelorette party, done so days in advance, was not a drunken night out for us girls in a tacky, rented limo and strippers. It was an intimate get-together at the Hamptons with a guest list that had my eyes rolling. I'd joked to Hannah saying that at least half of the people at the bachelorette were rejected auditionees for The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Meredith the bitter best-friend, didn’t find my joke all that funny. 

At dinners and events this past week Max and I would cross paths and each time he sent me a blinding smile that caused an unhealthy flutter in my chest. He was perfectly civil, maybe even borderline friendly, and it took all my self control to remind myself that he was no longer mine. I could handle the conversations, even the looks I caught him handing out my way, but when it came time to seeing them together I crumbled; each smile or brush of the hand I witnessed felt like a stab to my heart. 

And now I was out of time to prepare. The wedding is tomorrow, and I don’t know where I’ll ever find the strength to stand beside Max as he binds his love to Simone. Tonight is the rehearsal dinner and the last night where I’ll have to smile and pretend nothing’s wrong. After the ceremony I’ll be off on the first plane out. 

“How are you holding up?” Looking up, I snapped out of my trance and gave Cole a small smile. 

“I’m fine.”

He shot me a disbelieving look as he fixed the collar of his white button-down. “Right.” 

My shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to say, Cole? That I die a little each time I see them together? I’ve accepted that they’re in love, and I’ve resolved any bad blood between Max and I. There’s no reason to force feed you my sob story.”

Cole sighed and came to sit next to me. “There is one thing you could do.”

“What’s that?” I murmured without much interest. 

“You could do something for yourself for once and get the hell out of dodge. You and Russo have already spoken to the Feds, given a statement and everything, and they’ve agreed to wait until after the wedding to arrest Byron. You’re job here’s done. I say send everyone to hell and don’t look back.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to Simone, or Max. We’re...on good terms now. As a friend, I’ll be there for him as he takes his first step into his new life.” I stood and walked into Cole’s closet to signify the end of our conversation.

“Now let’s find you a tie and get going. I don’t want to be late to the rehearsal dinner. On the way you can tell me all about your new mystery girl."

Cole didn't push me. He gave a sigh, and after casting one more concerned look my way, he told me all the juicy details about the girl he'd met on Christmas at Byron and Lillian's. I made all the proper "oohs" and "ahhs" as Cole retold his naughty adventures in the supply closet of my childhood home, but I honestly was only partially listening. (A/N: Hint hint! This is where Cole and his mystery girl's story starts off ;P)