Skye was tired. It had been a busy day of preparations – the wedding now only a short fourteen hours away – and it was getting late. It would have been wise of her to retire for the night, but she couldn't just yet. She needed a little time to herself before she woke up the next morning and her life changed forever.

It would be a good change, she thought, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous – feelings, public speaking, and PDA all in a single ceremony? She'd be lucky if she didn't faint dead away.

She was lying on a stone fountain, this one deep in Arundel's gardens. She trailed her hand through the cool water and stared at the many stars above. She picked out Aquila and Cygnus, facing each other high in the sky. Constellations were bright at Arundel, where no city lights could dim their glow.

This was a perfect night – chilly, but not unpleasantly so, and it was quiet. Everyone else had withdrawn into their bedrooms. She was alone with the stars, just how she liked to be. Fireflies danced overhead, crickets chirped, the fountain gurgled, and – tap, tap, tap.

Skye sat up. There it was again: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. It couldn't be. Had her luck really turned so poor? She had come outside to be alone with her thoughts and her nerves, not to be set upon by Arundel's interloping, obnoxious, former resident. She stood, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

"Skye! There you are. I must speak with you."

Rats. It was Mrs. Tifton, and the tapping? Her heels on the flagstones. Skye was certain Jeffrey had told his mother to quit barging in on them, so what was she doing here?

Too aggrieved and too surprised to say anything clever, she said only, "Me? Why?"

Mrs. Tifton stopped in front of Skye, a hand on her hip. "I'd like to know who the hell you think you are."

Skye smiled. Of course. Why had she even asked? "Okay, goodnight."

She brushed past Mrs. Tifton, but she was followed. Mrs. Tifton's heels now stomped rather than tapped.

"You think it's appropriate for you to get married here? And so abruptly?"

Skye spun back. She wouldn't stand for any intolerant criticism or complaint, not less than twenty-four hours before her wedding.

"If it bothers you so much, take it up with Jeffrey. Again," she snapped. Mrs. Tifton had already put poor Jeffrey through the wringer over it more than once.

"I can't talk to Jeffrey about this. Believe me, if I thought I could—"

"It's his house now! You gave it to him!" Skye didn't know why she cared to argue. Mrs. Tifton wasn't worth it. Perhaps it was to vent a few of her nerves.

"And how dare you marry another man at his home?"

"You should have kept it if you still want to—" Skye stopped. Mrs. Tifton's exact words had processed on a delay. "Did you say another man?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why did you say that?" Another man – another man than who? Certainly not Jeffrey, not unless Mrs. Tifton had truly gone off the deep end.

Mrs. Tifton dared to laugh. "So often you boast of your intelligence, yet you can't see that Jeffrey is in love with you?"

So she was crazy. Skye told her so.

Mrs. Tifton dismissed the insult with a flick of her wrist. "Think what you will of me, but I know my son."

Skye was suddenly anxious, so anxious that stabbing pains struck through her heart. "He doesn't love me. I know you're afraid of that, but you're nuts. He hasn't shown me any interest at all."

He hardly even talked to her anymore. Not on the phone, and not here either. He'd been so busy with Batty that Skye hadn't so much as had the chance to catch up with him for the first decent time in months.

"What does that matter? I've seen how he looks at you."

"You're imagining it. He looks at me like everybody else." At least, Skye thought he did. No, he did. He definitely did.

"I don't think your fiancé would agree."

"Of course he would."

"If you're so confident, then remind me: how did he treat Jeffrey when he met him?"

"He—" Skye cut herself off. Dušek couldn't have been jealous, could he? Way in the back of her mind, a tiny voice wondered, should he be?

Again with Mrs. Tifton's dreadful, tinkling laugh. "It appears he's not as dense as you are."

"Jeffrey doesn't love me," Skye repeated. He couldn't – but did he? Her stomach somersaulted. He had loved her before. Was it so crazy to think he might again?

"Oh please," Mrs. Tifton scoffed. "I saw him moping about it on the front porch when Derek arrived just the day before yesterday."

"Dušek. And Jeffrey wasn't—"

"I took him to lunch to make certain, and I am quite sure I'm right."

"What do you want me to do?" Skye's voice rose to a near shout. She glanced back at Arundel. Jeffrey was right inside. Dušek was. They were far enough away that a simple conversation wouldn't be overheard, but any shouting easily could be. She lowered her voice, hushed, but still furious. "Cancel my wedding? Tell you I love him back? Tell him that?" Skye snorted. Mrs. Tifton definitely didn't want that.

"Do you?"

Her piercing stare could have made Skye shrink back in fright if she hadn't been so determined not to let the woman see her cower. She'd never been particularly scared of Mrs. Tifton, but she was scared of what she was telling her now. Against her better judgment, she believed her. She didn't want to – this news could cause quite the spine-chilling nightmare of a mess – but she did. She believed her, and that made her head spin and her lungs shrivel. It made the skin on the back of her neck prickle; she shivered.

"I—" Skye's answer caught in her throat. How could she respond? This was the worst thing to be told the eve before her wedding, the worst thing she could be asked. What to say, what to say? "I'm getting married tomorrow."

"And I am telling you to reschedule. Have your wedding somewhere else," said Mrs. Tifton, her harsh, hushed tone an echo of Skye's. Neither of them wanted Jeffrey to notice them and listen in. "You are breaking his heart with your marriage, and I forbid you from doing it here."

"This was his idea!" It was great work for Skye to keep herself from shouting. Her honor was being flogged, and she had done nothing wrong. "Jeffrey told me to have my wedding here."

Mrs. Tifton was quick with an argument. She was already speaking before Skye had gotten the last of her words out. "I believe it was Rosalind he suggested that to."

Skye's mouth moved in mindless attempts at a rebuttal, but she couldn't produce one. That was true. There had been plenty of talk of a double wedding, long before Skye had agreed to it, but she had never considered that Jeffrey might care.

"You sprang your marriage on him, Skye."

"He didn't— he didn't say anything." Skye balled her fists. She was close to crying.

"What could he say? No?" Mrs. Tifton laughed. "Of course he couldn't. You left him without a choice."

Skye had been in a daze, but she pulled out of it and finally, fully registered how inappropriate this discussion was. It was unfair to everyone – to her, her family, Dušek – poor Dušek, who was blissfully unaware of Skye's new and sizable predicament. And Jeffrey. It was most unfair to Jeffrey.

"You can't be telling me this." Too late, of course. She had been told, but she wouldn't listen any further.

Mrs. Tifton did not share her misgivings. "I thought it important for you to know what exactly you are doing to my son."

"Why?" said Skye, quite bitter. Mrs. Tifton had nothing to lose one way or the other. Nothing to gain. "What's it to you, anyway? This is none of your business."

"What's it to me?" Mrs. Tifton's face filled with indignation. "I know all of you think I don't care for Jeffrey, but he is my child. It does not please me to see him hurt, particularly by someone he trusts so blindly."

"I am just getting married!" Skye protested. She wasn't trying to do anything to Jeffrey. She wasn't doing anything to him. She was only living her life, as was her right.

"Which is quite enough, don't you think?" Mrs. Tifton's lips were drawn as if she was sucking on something sour. Perhaps it was her words that were. "Must you make it worse for him? You want to turn the house he grew up in – the house he still comes home to – into the place where he has to give you away? No, Skye." She shook her head. "No. You will not hold your wedding at Arundel."

"Stop!" Skye cried, forgetting to be quiet. She reminded herself to be from that point on. "Jeffrey wouldn't want—"

"To put this pressure on you, I know. I am not afraid to," Mrs. Tifton interrupted. "Change your wedding venue. What you do beyond that – you are correct to say – is none of my business, nor does it interest me."

"How can I change it now? What reason could I possibly give? My wedding is tomorrow!" If Skye had known she would be hurting Jeffrey – or as Mrs. Tifton seemed to think, cursing Arundel for him – she never would have signed up for this wedding. Now, it was too late.

"I'm sure you will think of something."

"I can't!" How could Mrs. Tifton not see that? "If you had told me this earlier—"

"What would you have done? Rescheduled? Canceled?"

They were one in the same, really. Skye didn't care to plan a wedding herself. If she wasn't a part of Rosalind's, there would be no second wedding. Caught up in such thoughts, Skye neglected to answer Mrs. Tifton's question.

"You don't know?"

Unwilling to give Mrs. Tifton any ammunition by attempting to explain why a rescheduled wedding would be a canceled one, Skye only grumbled, "I know."

"I see." Mrs. Tifton didn't ask for any clarification, because she had drawn her own conclusions. "I must know, what is wrong with Jeffrey?"

"What does that mean?" said Skye, fractious. She well knew that Mrs. Tifton didn't like her, but did she really have to imply that Jeffrey had a faulty brain because he did like her? Love her? Skye safeguarded herself against the idea, but there were cracks in her walls that questions leaked through. Questions such as: really? and, why? and, how long? and, how much? – all questions that Skye, betrothed Skye, had no business asking herself.

"What is wrong with Jeffrey?" Mrs. Tifton repeated herself slowly, as if that would make Skye better understand the stupid question. "I'd like to hear what it is that makes you, of all people, think that he isn't good enough for you." Mrs. Tifton let out a small, condescending laugh. "I suppose I should count my blessings over the matter, but – really, Skye, the idea is preposterous."

Skye almost tipped over in shock. She had gravely misinterpreted. It was insane – Mrs. Tifton really had the gall to look her in the face and ask why she would want to be with someone else if she could have Jeffrey.

"You are so out of line," said Skye, so stunned her voice shook. The lack of shame the woman had was incredible.

"Don't misunderstand me. By no means would I support you with my son. Heavens no, but I do think you should get it into that conceited head of yours that it's not that Jeffrey isn't good enough for you, but rather that you are nowhere near good enough for him. For the life of me, I can't make sense of why he is so enamored with you. It's disturbing."

Skye's face flushed hot. She opened her mouth to give her the tongue-lashing she deserved, but Mrs. Tifton raised her voice to stop her, or speak over her, if she must.

"Particularly since it is so clear you don't see him for all that he is worth."

"What?" Skye almost screeched it. She needed to be very, very careful. She was about to lose her temper, entirely and uncontrollably, in a way that she hadn't in years. If that happened, she wouldn't be able to stop shouting, and if she shouted, Jeffrey would hear her. He would know everything. She forced her voice down, but it still sounded violent. "Jeffrey is—"

"An incredible man," Mrs. Tifton finished for her. It was a sweet and rather surprising thing for her to say, but her tone did not reflect her words. It was accusatory and bitter. "If you had any sense, you would know that."

"I do know!" She knew better than anyone. Hadn't she just argued with Dušek about that very thing? Hadn't she poured everything into defending Jeffrey's honor, without caring if it upset her fiancé? Hadn't she spent hours furious that Dušek had dared to insult him at all?

"Not well enough," said Mrs. Tifton.

Skye scoffed. Mrs. Tifton had no basis for such accusations, only her incessant need to find fault in Skye – and in her relationship with Jeffrey – however she could.

"You don't want me with him, but you want me to, what? Want to be with him? That's so gross," she said.

"Of course not," Mrs. Tifton sniffed, as if she hadn't essentially said that very thing. "I'm simply referring to character. You've shown me you have very little."

That was too much. Skye couldn't stand by and allow her character to be slandered, viciously and without cause. She shouted, "You can't say that! You don't know me at all!"

"I know that you play with Jeffrey's heart, and you have the audacity to pretend that you don't know."

"I didn't! I'm not playing with anyone!" Luckily, Skye had stopped yelling. Not because she'd thought about it, but because she was about to plunge off a cliff and into the unnavigable waters of tears. She would not cry in front of Mrs. Tifton. She shook her head, speaking in a whisper, for that was the only way she could keep her voice from cracking. "You are ruining my wedding." Skye tried – goodness, how she tried – but her efforts were useless, and she did cry. "How am I supposed to be happy about getting married in front of Jeffrey?"

Skye's tears garnered no sympathy from Mrs. Tifton. "I don't see how that is any issue of mine."

Skye dried her eyes with furious fists. "None of this is! For fuck's sake, don't you see that? Jeffrey is an adult! He doesn't need you to pull strings for him. He does perfectly fine – no, he does better on his own. If he really does love me, he has never said. He decided I shouldn't know, so the right thing for me to do is forget it. Erase all of this from my brain."

It would be the right thing for Skye to do, but she'd be a fool to think she could.

"Why do you think he didn't tell you?"

"Oh my god," Skye muttered. Her hands flew to her head; she gripped her hair. Loud with finality, she said, "This conversation is over."

She tried to step around Mrs. Tifton, who stepped right with her and stood in her way. She, for one, did not think they were finished. Skye could have shoved her out of the way, but that was a line she would never cross. She wouldn't get physical with Jeffrey's mother, not even when faced with an unprecedented atrocity such as this.

"He's told you before, I'm sure you remember. You shut him down very quickly. He won't put himself through that again."

Skye stared at her.

"Yes, Jeffrey does tell me things. I know it shocks you."

Skye was appalled. "Are you talking about when we were in high school? Almost ten years ago? What does that matter? We were kids. Dumb, immature kids!"

"I doubt you have changed that much since then."

Skye glowered at her and crossed her arms. Maybe that would keep Mrs. Tifton's words from slashing her down. "Just leave me alone, and leave Jeffrey alone too. You're embarrassing him."

Not really, since Jeffrey was oblivious to this conversation, but it was the principle of it. He would be embarrassed – dreadfully – if he knew what was being said about him.

"I do that often. He's survived thus far."

Skye gawked. Mrs. Tifton didn't even care. Jeffrey could die of mortification and his mother would simply shrug it off.

"How do you think he would feel if he knew you were telling me— if he knew how badly you just sold him out?" Perhaps talk of betrayal would awaken Mrs. Tifton to her deep indiscretions.

Mrs. Tifton waved it all away, betrayal nothing to her. "I imagine he'd be furious, but I have never been afraid of confrontation. Especially when I know I'm right."

"And somehow, you are still always wrong."

"We shall see, won't we?"

"No! We won't! Tomorrow I am getting married, here at Arundel, and Jeffrey will watch and put up with it like he's planning to."

That was callous. Skye felt nauseous. She hadn't meant to be so harsh, not about Jeffrey. She had only meant to shut down Mrs. Tifton, but she had dragged him in her attempt. Stupid. Shameful. She almost took it back.

"You have yet to understand me. You will not have your wedding here. I won't allow it."

"It's not up to you! You don't have the right – you didn't have the right to say any of this. You wreck everything."

Mrs. Tifton was so unaffected by Skye's outburst that she appeared to be somewhat bored. "You are awfully worked up for someone so set in her decision."

Of course she was worked up. In what world would she not be? A world Skye much preferred to this one, that was for sure. "I don't want to hurt Jeffrey!"

"You were always going to. That hasn't changed. You're just aware of it now."

"I didn't have to be."

"Yes, you did. It was the only way I could be sure you would take me seriously," said Mrs. Tifton. "Do take this seriously, Skye, and listen carefully. If you have your wedding here tomorrow, then come Monday morning, I will withdraw all of Jeffrey's financial support and write him out of my will."

Skye blanched. "You're – you're threatening him? Why?"

It was a brutally unfair warning to come from a mother who had just claimed to care for her son oh so very much. Jeffrey would sit through her wedding and then get completely disinherited in a matter of forty-eight hours? That was beyond unfair. Mrs. Tifton was cruel.

"It's what is best for him. He has enough money in trust to sort out the estate's affairs, and then he will have to sell it. He will be rid of this house and every horrible memory of your wedding that would have haunted him here. It is a favor, Skye, not a punishment."

Skye sank down on the fountain's ledge. Her legs suddenly felt quite weak. She buried her forehead in her hands and muttered, "You're fucking kidding me. This is not happening."

She now not only had to have Jeffrey's broken heart on her conscience, but also his disinheritance? He was able to take risks in his career because of his financial stability. If he lost it, he might have to turn music into a side job, begin working in an office somewhere to make ends meet, and maybe that job would be too demanding, and he wouldn't have much time for music, and soon he would be miserable, forced to give up his dream, and it would all be her fault, because she hadn't paid attention to him. Why hadn't she? Everything would be different if she had. She wouldn't be having this conversation with Mrs. Tifton, because she never would have joined in on Rosalind's wedding, never asked Jeffrey to play the wedding march – the wedding march! Skye wanted to fall into the fountain and sink under the water, where she would stay until her guilt drowned when she did. How could she go through with her wedding now? She had to – but how could she bear it? How could she stand in front of Jeffrey and exchange I Dos with Dušek, all the while knowing she could be burying Jeffrey's future six feet under ground?

"That is not all," said Mrs. Tifton.

Skye lifted her head, so dizzy that Mrs. Tifton was a blurry sight in front of her. "That is plenty," she spat.

"If you marry Dustin—"

"Dušek," Skye ground out through her teeth. She didn't believe that Mrs. Tifton was as terrible at remembering names as she pretended to be.

"If you marry him, whenever and wherever you do, you will not invite Jeffrey, and you will cut all ties with him."

"I am not doing that!" Whoops. Skye shouted again. She hardly cared. That was a demand she had to shout down.

"You will, Skye, and if you don't, I will—"

"Disinherit him?" Skye guessed furiously. She laughed and shook her head. "What's your excuse this time?"

"You will not listen to me if I don't," said Mrs. Tifton, not even bothering to spin a half-baked excuse.

"There is something seriously wrong with your brain," said Skye. "I mean it. Get help, find a therapist! And leave Jeffrey out of your problems."

"Are you really so selfish? You torment him. All I am telling you to do is stop. That does not make me a villain." Mrs. Tifton appeared sure of that, somehow. "Why do you think none of his relationships last? His girlfriends all leave him once they sense his heart isn't fully theirs. I have put in my very best effort to find someone who is better suited for him, but it is impossible. He won't even try."

"Like Marlene Robinette, you mean?" Skye scorned the notion.

"Yes, like Marlene. They would be a beautiful couple, but Jeffrey can't see that because he is far too hung up on you."

"That is not why! Just because you want him to marry some preppy rich girl you could show off doesn't mean that is who would make him happy."

"This isn't about Marlene, Skye. It's about you. You have had your claws in Jeffrey's back long enough. Let go. He deserves happiness, wherever he may find it. He cannot do that while you remain in his way."

Skye clutched her tossing stomach. This was a disaster, and one she was not sure she would ever sort out.

"Relocate your wedding and stop talking to my son. I will not stand silently and watch you string him along like his feelings don't—"

"He's my best friend!"

"Your fiancé should be your best friend, shouldn't he? You have a lot to think about if he's not."

Skye said nothing. She couldn't speak. The lump in her throat was much too large for words.

"Don't assume this is prejudice against your family. I can put up with the others. Jeffrey insists on associating with them, and there is nothing for me to do about it." Here, Mrs. Tifton's tone shifted to hammer the nail into the coffin. "But you, Skye – you have to go."

Skye squeezed her hand over her mouth, because she was on the brink of losing control. She would not be able to rein herself in if she started to sob. She had never battled tears like this.

For once, Mrs. Tifton spoke almost gently. "I know this is upsetting for you. Jeffrey is a very difficult person to lose, but you are getting married. You will hurt him very much when you do, and if you truly care about him—"

"Of course I care about him!"

Mrs. Tifton nodded. "Then you will let him go."

"I can't," Skye mumbled. She knew, for quite possibly the first time ever, Mrs. Tifton was right. She couldn't marry Dušek and stay friends with Jeffrey. That would be an injustice to all parties involved.

"Don't be cruel. He is giving you up, and you are obligated to return the favor. Leave him alone to deal with this."

"But he is…" Skye didn't finish, because there was no worthy end to that sentence. Not one she could share. He was Jeffrey. Her Jeffrey, and she never wanted that to change. She had known from that very first summer that he was the kind of special person that enters your life and never leaves it. Her father had once told her about an African tree – a shepherd's tree, she believed it was called – with deep roots extending hundreds of feet underground. Such a tree couldn't be uprooted without immense force, without laying waste to the landscape around it. Even then, with the tree ripped away, some of its roots would probably remain in the ground. Jeffrey was like that. His roots in her life could not be properly dug out, and she didn't have the strength to try.

She hid her face in her arms. "Fuck."

"It must be this way. You, for some godforsaken reason, have the power to wreck Jeffrey's future. He won't take care of this himself, so I will do it for him," said Mrs. Tifton, her brief sympathy quite gone. "Get out of his life."

Skye numbly shook her head. Even if she should, she couldn't.

"I do hope you don't make me disinherit my son over this. It is not something I—"

Mrs. Tifton fell silent abruptly, because a horrible, dreaded sound had carried across the gardens. The sound of Arundel's front door opening and closing.

Skye's vision blackened at the edges. Please don't let it be – but it was.

Walking toward them, and looking very grim, was Jeffrey.

A/N: Like two years ago I wrote this chapter out in script form on my phone, just for fun, and it really stuck in my head. So I built a whole story around this one conversation, and that's just wild to think about