Page 41 of The Game She Hates

I am scanning the groomsmen, wondering if any of them are as entranced by Pearl’s beauty as I am. It’s hard to tell which girl they’re looking at, but with Pearl looking like that, she’ll probably have a hard time keeping guys at bay tonight. Unless a knight in shining armor swoops in to help her navigate the evening.

Everyone erupts in applause when the groom kisses the bride. They exit from the altar with wide grins, dancing to a song I’ve probably heard on Christian radio this week about God fulfilling his promises at the right time.

God, I never thought to ask for love because I never believed in it until now. But if there’s still time to make such requests, and if I could have my pick, it’d be sweet Pearl I’d want to walk down the aisle with.

28

Pearl Davis

There is a reason I avoid wearing anything taller than two inches. These skyscraper heels might as well come with a proceed with caution sign for me. Forty-five minutes of standing in them has been enough. All I plan to do is to sit at the reception, so I doubt anyone will even notice if I ditch the cocktail hour to slip into my comfy sandals that are in my car. I could use the breather.

Edwin, one of the groomsmen, keeps making unwanted advances toward me. I have a feeling he thinks he’s doing me a favor by showing interest. He’s Kate’s cousin, and there’s no way she could have resisted telling him that I’m single and searching.

But no thanks. I may be single as a Pringle, but my heart isn’t in the game. It’s been taken hostage by Zane, and I’ve tried every trick in the book to move on. At this point, I’ll need divine intervention to even enjoy a nice conversation with a man that isn’t him. Until then, I’m doomed to be the girl with a Zane-shaped hole in her heart.

The cocktail hour is set outdoors, using the same space as the ceremony. The tall tables are decorated with white, gold, and teal tablecloths. There’s a large backdrop with Kate and Duke’s names for photo ops, adorned with flowers. Music fills the air as guests mingle, chatting and sipping on drinks in the pleasant, mild weather—the warmest Massachusetts can offer in April.

I make my way over to Robyn, who seems to be hitting it off with one of the groomsmen. Another casualty of wedding small talk, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. It’s written all over his face—that little crush he’s nursing for her.

“Hey, I’m going to grab a shoe change from the car. Shoot me a text when it’s almost time for the reception,” I tell her.

“Didn’t think you’d last in those heels. I’ll ring you up,” she replies with a nudge.

I shuffle awkwardly through the parking lot. Thank God Duke and Kate decided to host both the ceremony and reception at the same venue. It’s a breathtaking golf course, owned by a member of our church community who generously gifted it to them. I can only imagine how much having a free venue has alleviated their wedding expenses.

The golf course itself serves as a lush green carpet, stretching out as far as the eye can see, dotted with twinkling lights. The wedding arch is draped in cascades of white fabric and intertwined with fresh florals.

“If I hadn’t noticed the cocktail hour serving virgin drinks, I’d be suspicious,” Zane’s voice rings out, instantly recognizable to my heart.

My heart leaps as I turn to find the most attractive man in a navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a teal tie—Zane. His hair is neatly trimmed, and my heart warms just at the sight of him. If only it wouldn’t complicate things, I’d give anything to run straight to his arms. Every fiber of my being aches with how much I’ve missed him.

Tears threaten to spill at the overwhelming rush of emotions his presence brings.

“Zane, what are you doing here?” I manage to choke out, my voice sounding more robotic than I intended.

“Duke invited me. I couldn’t miss seeing you in that dress for sure,” he replies, flashing me a slow smile that sends heat creeping up my entire face.

Oh no, the dress that shows off all my insecurities.

“Pearl, you look beautiful,” he says, as if he could read the doubts swirling in my mind. Despite my resolve to not seek validation from a man, his compliment somehow manages to silence the chorus of negative thoughts that plague me.

“Well, if only I knew how to walk in these heels, I wouldn’t be totally embarrassed right now,” I reply, trying to deflect the attention away from my self-consciousness.

“I don’t know why women go through that trouble.” He rubs the back of his neck in that familiar gesture.

How I’ve missed every little thing about him.

“That makes two of us.” I feel a rush of warmth as he closes the distance between us.

He extends his arm for me to hook, and I accept without hesitation. Being near him feels reassuring, and it’s not just because of my wobbly heels. There’s a gut feeling that tells me letting him closer in my life could feel just as comforting.

As we stroll toward my car, we take a moment to catch up on the events of the past few weeks. I briefly share a heartwarming update about a client who has recently found a forever home with a wonderful family.

“But how do you get children that have been through hell on earth to actually share what’s happened to them?” Zane asks. “I could never open up to anyone for the longest time. I’d think most kids who never received love would be that way too.”

We reach my car and I pause to reflect on my sessions. “You know, children are just like us.” I lean against my car, facing him. “They crave the same thing we do: to be heard, truly heard, not always being told what to do or what to think, although that also has its place in child rearing. So, my approach with them is all about listening. When they open up, even just a crack, I make sure to echo back their words. It lets them know that, one, I’m following, and, two, this is important to me instead of taking the opportunity and making it about me and what I think. And when they’ve said all they want to share, we unpack it together, and I add a little bit more clarity to their thoughts from being more mature and having life experience, and of course, faith. None of my sessions go without a mention of the Creator who created us as emotional beings.”

He gazes at me with a smile that lights up his eyes. “You speak about your job with such passion. You really love what you do.”

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