Chapter 3 Drunken Confessions

# Chapter 3 — Drunken Confessions

The wedding weekend arrived with unseasonable rain, the kind that comes down in sheets and makes you believe in omens. Six weeks had passed in a blur of anxiety and dread, punctuated by increasingly awkward family messages and one disastrous brunch where my mother cornered me to ask if I would "behave myself" at the ceremony.

I'd arrived at the hotel that afternoon, Sophie having canceled at the last minute due to a work emergency. Now I stood alone in my room, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake by coming.

"You can do this," I told my reflection. "It's just one weekend."

The rehearsal dinner was in an hour. I'd successfully avoided seeing either Caleb or Rowan so far, but that luck wouldn't hold much longer. I smoothed down my dark green dress—chosen carefully to complement my eyes but not draw too much attention—and applied another coat of lipstick.

A knock at my door startled me. Probably housekeeping, though I'd hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign.

I wasn't prepared for who stood on the other side.

"Caleb."

He looked exactly the same and completely different all at once. The same warm brown eyes, the same slight curl to his dark hair that never quite stayed where he wanted it. But there was something new too—a tension in his shoulders, a guardedness in his expression.

"Hazel," he said, my name sounding both familiar and foreign in his voice. "You came."

"I said I would." I kept my hand on the door, not inviting him in but not closing it either. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for your rehearsal dinner?"

He glanced down the hallway. "I needed to see you first. To make sure..."

"To make sure I won't cause a scene?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior for your big day."

"That's not—" He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made my chest hurt. "Can I come in? Just for a minute."

Every instinct told me to say no, but I found myself stepping aside anyway. He entered cautiously, like he was stepping into unfamiliar territory rather than a standard hotel room.

"How are you?" he asked, standing awkwardly near the desk.

"Really?" I crossed my arms. "That's what you want to know after all this time?"

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "This is... harder than I thought it would be."

"Imagine how I feel," I replied, but the heat had gone out of my words. "Why are you here, Caleb? What do you want?"

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw something flicker across his face. Regret? Longing? I couldn't tell.

"I just wanted to see you," he said softly. "Before tomorrow changes everything."

I felt my resolve weakening and turned away, moving to the window to watch the rain. "It already changed. Two years ago in that courthouse."

"Hazel—"

"Don't," I cut him off. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

He fell silent. I could feel him watching me, the weight of his gaze as heavy as it had always been. Finally, he spoke again.

"I should go. They'll be looking for me."

I nodded without turning around. "Congratulations, Caleb. I hope she makes you happy."

I heard him move toward the door, then pause. "You look beautiful, Hazel. Green was always your color."

And then he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his cologne—the same one he'd worn since we were dating. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window and allowed myself, just for a moment, to remember.

---

The rehearsal dinner was exactly as uncomfortable as I'd expected. I was seated at a table with distant cousins who either didn't know what to say to me or were too eager to bring up my divorce. I pushed salmon around my plate and nursed a single glass of wine, watching Caleb and Rowan at the head table.

She was radiant, of course. Rowan had always been beautiful in that effortless, magazine-cover way. Tonight she wore a cream-colored dress that made her look like she was already half a bride, her dark hair cascading down her back. She kept touching Caleb—his arm, his hand, his face—like she was marking her territory.

Caleb smiled and laughed at all the right moments, but twice I caught him looking in my direction when Rowan was distracted. The second time, I held his gaze until he looked away.

"Quite a show, isn't it?"

I turned to find Toby sliding into an empty seat beside me. I hadn't seen him in years—not since high school—but he'd aged well, his boyish features maturing into a handsome face.

"Toby," I said, genuinely pleased to see a friendly face. "I didn't know you were invited."

"Old family friend," he explained, nodding toward Rowan's parents. "Plus, I think Rowan wanted as many witnesses as possible to her triumph."

The bitterness in his tone surprised me. "You don't approve?"

He shrugged, sipping his drink. "Let's just say I have a unique perspective on Rowan's... methods."

Before I could ask what he meant, the speeches began. I endured Judith's tearful account of how Rowan and Caleb were "meant to be," followed by Rowan's father praising Caleb as the son he never had. By the time Rowan herself stood up, gushing about "destiny" and "true love finding its way," I was ready to scream.

Instead, I excused myself and slipped out to the hotel bar. One drink, I promised myself. Just to take the edge off.

One drink became two, and by eleven, I was back in my room, finally feeling the numbing effect of the alcohol. I kicked off my heels and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed. A text from Sophie: *How's it going? Need emergency extraction?*

I smiled despite myself. *Surviving. Barely. Miss you.*

As I set the phone down, it began to ring. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer, but some instinct made me press accept.

"Hello?"

"Hazel." Caleb's voice was slurred, barely recognizable. "Hazel, it's me."

I sat up straight. "Caleb? Are you drunk?"

"Little bit." He laughed, then hiccupped. "Bachelor party. They made me do shots."

"Where are you?" I asked, concern overriding my better judgment. "Is someone with you?"

"Hotel room. My room." There was rustling, like he was moving around. "They all left. Said I needed sleep. But I can't sleep, Hazel. I keep thinking about you."

My heart stuttered. "You're getting married tomorrow, Caleb. You shouldn't be calling me."

"I know," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That's why I had to call. Last chance."

"Last chance for what?" I asked, though part of me already knew.

"To tell you the truth." He took a deep breath. "I'm marrying her, but it's not—it's not what you think."

I closed my eyes. "What is it, then?"

"I'm marrying her," he said slowly, carefully, like he was concentrating hard on each word, "only so I can still see you."

The world seemed to stop. "What did you say?"

"She's your family," he continued, words tumbling out now. "If I marry her, I'll always be connected to you. Always have a reason to be where you are. To see your face, even if I can't..." He trailed off. "God, Hazel, I still love you. I've never stopped loving you."

My hand tightened around the phone. "You're drunk, Caleb. You don't mean that."

"I do," he insisted. "I do mean it. The divorce was a mistake. I was angry, stubborn. I thought you didn't want the same life I did. But without you, nothing makes sense."

Tears filled my eyes. "Then why are you marrying her?"

"Because I'm a coward," he said simply. "Because I didn't think you'd take me back. Because she was there, wanting me, and it felt good to be wanted after you left."

"I didn't leave," I whispered. "We decided together."

"I know." He sounded so sad, so defeated. "I know that now. But it's too late, isn't it?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. The silence stretched between us.

"Caleb," I finally said, "you need to sleep this off. We can talk tom—"

A sound in the background interrupted me. A door opening. Then, clearly audible, Rowan's voice: "Caleb? Who are you talking to at this hour?"

My blood ran cold. There was a rustling sound, like Caleb was trying to hide the phone.

"No one," I heard him say, his voice suddenly distant. "Just checking my voicemail."

"At midnight?" Rowan sounded suspicious. "Let me see your phone."

"Rowan, don't—"

I heard a scuffle, then Rowan's voice, crystal clear and ice cold: "Hello, Hazel."

My mouth went dry. "Rowan."

"Calling my fiancé the night before our wedding?" She clicked her tongue. "That's low, even for you."

"He called me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"And said what, exactly?" The danger in her tone was unmistakable.

Before I could respond, I heard Caleb in the background: "Rowan, give me the phone."

"I think I heard everything I needed to," she said, her voice tight with fury. Then, to me: "Stay away from him tomorrow, or I swear to God, I will make a scene you'll never forget."

The line went dead. I stared at my phone in horror, replaying what had just happened. Caleb's drunken confession. Rowan overhearing everything.

My phone buzzed again—another text from Sophie: *You ok? You went silent.*

I typed back with shaking hands: *Caleb just called. Drunk. Said he still loves me. Rowan heard everything.*

Sophie's response was immediate: *Holy shit. What are you going to do?*

I looked at the dress hanging on my closet door, ready for tomorrow's ceremony. What was I going to do? The answer came to me with surprising clarity.

*I'm going to face the music,* I replied. *And find out what this is really all about.*

What I didn't know then was how deep Rowan's resentment truly went, or that tomorrow would reveal a revenge plot years in the making.