Chapter 11

It has been a month, since I've seen Kartik. So, we are repeating this story. Except with a different ending.

Simon and I were to be married tomorrow. I have yet to tell him that I still do not love him. As my father told me, promises were meant to be honored, and I had made a promise to Simon. My feelings aside, I have to fulfill this duty.

What a wonderful to see marriage. A duty to be fulfilled.

The clock chimed eight times. Eight o' clock. Simon and his family are here for the rehearsal dinner. I stepped in front of my mirror for one finally glance at myself, before I adjourn downstairs to the guests.

"Ahh, Gemma, we were just talking about you."

I carefully walked down the stairs, in my high heels. Fearing I would trip, I walked slow. "All good I hope."

"Of course, my dear."

I reached the bottom to an awaiting Simon. I accepted his arm, and my grandmother walked us to the dining room.

Felicity, Ann, and my father were seated.

"Where is your family, Simon?"

He held out my chair for me. "They will be here soon. Do not worry. They would not miss this."

I simply smiled, as he sat beside me. Felicity gave me a look, while Ann smiled back at me.

The wine was already in our glasses, the plates were empty. The table was full with delectable dishes, freshly made. The napkins were cleaned and neatly folded. Everything was perfect. Too bad, it was all an illusion.

My mouth was dry, but it was impolite to start dinner before everyone arrived or before we said grace, which is why, when the Middletons walked in through the door, I was estatic to see them.

After everyone was settled around the table, we blessed the food and started to eat. It was as delicious as it looked. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even me. It was all going smoothingly, until my father stood up. He tapped his fork, gently, against the glass. The conversation ceased, as the focus shifted.

"I will be giving a speech tomorrow, at the actual reception, but I wanted to say something before then."

My grandmother had a strained smile spread on her face. She did not like surprises, especially from my father.

"As you all know, Gemma is my daughter. Tomorrow, I will gain another son," he tipped his glass to Simon, who nodded.

"I see these two together and think of my own experiences with love. Gemma," he turned to me with a silly smile on his face, and it was plainly obvious he had too much wine.

"You look exactly like your mother, and, Simon, my God, you are the spitting image of myself. I see Tom, then I see you and get confused as to who my actual son is." He, then, laughed a loud, robust laugh that brought a horrified expression to my grandmother's face. She effaced it, quickly, and laughed slightly.

"Son, sit down. Honestly, I think you had drank too much. Gemma," she snapped her fingers, "take that glass from your father, before he completely embarrasses himself."

"Yes, grandmother," I picked up the glass from my relunctant father and walked to the bar, where I placed it onto the counter.

A ringing chimed throughout the house. "Oh, Gemma, the servants are out, please answer that."

"Yes, grandmother."

Obediently, I walked to the door. When I opened it, I received quite a surprise. Tom and his wife were standing on the porch.

Still stunned, I stepped aside to allow them in.

"Hello, Tom, Mary."

"Hello, sister."

Mary's greeting was much warmer. "Oh, Gemma, dear, it has been too long." She came up to me and kissed both my cheeks. "Honestly, I told you anytime you want to go out on the town, just give me a ring," she insisted with her high pitched voice, childlike voice.

Politely, I nodded. "Yes, we must, but, of course, I have been preoccupied."

She blinked in confusion. "Oh, with what?"

Tom smiled, slightly embrassed. "I think Gemma is referring to her wedding plans."

After a moment, it clicked. "Oh, silly me, I knew that."

Mary raced, excitedly, into the next room, where she was greeted with more mock enthusiam. No one in my family, shame to say, really liked Mary. We more pitied her, than anything else.

Tom followed in and was greeted immediately with sincere happiness from everyone, except my father.

My dad, who calmed down a little, straighten up stiffly in his seat, as Tom sat across from him. "Son."

"Father."

"Hello, Tom."

"Hello, Miss Worthington."

He placed his napkin into his lap, and Mary took the seat next to him. Ann sipped her wine, as Tom glanced at her. For a fleeting second, I could have sworn I saw a sign of affection in his eyes. Of course, that was not possible.

After an hour or so, we heard the clock announce, it was eleven o' clock.

My grandmother commented. "Oh dear, it is getting late, and we must be rested for tomorrow." She took the final sip of her wine.

"Right." Mr. Middleton rose from his seat. "Well, thank you, Mrs. Doyle for the lovely evening."

My grandmother charmingly smiled in return.

Mr. Middleton stood patiently, as the rest of his family stood up. To be polite, I stood, as well, to see them out. When we reached the door, Simon lingered behind.

He kissed my cheek, a simple motion that use to give me chills. "Until tomorrow."

I put on another fake smile. "Until tomorrow."