Chapter Four - Pleasantview
Content warning: This story contains mature themes and may not be suitable for minors. For this chapter, adult and sexual references.
Woodland Park Reception Centre, Pleasantview
Cassie had just had her makeup and hair done and was admiring the work of the stylist when she heard a gentle knock on the door, “come in,” she called cheerfully.
Mortimer entered the room nervously. He was not the bearer of good news and dreaded how his daughter would react.
“Dad, you’re early,” she told him. She took in his appearance, “and you’re not dressed,” she surmised.
She turned around to face her father, taking in his expression. Her heart began to beat faster, was there something wrong? Had Don been hurt, had he, no; she wouldn’t even entertain the thought that he’d changed his mind. Not in the few hours since she’d seen him, she just, wouldn’t believe it.
“Dad, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” she asked deeply concerned.
“Nothing sweetie, nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is just perfect downstairs, and you look, just lovely,” he began trying to reassure her. “It’s just, Dina’s gone into labour, and,” he took a deep breath, “she’s not handling it very well, and I need to be there with her sweetheart.”
At first Cassandra just felt relief, no one was hurt, and on a superficial level she was glad that there hadn’t been any disasters with the cake or anything. But then it dawned on her what her father was telling her. “You’re not coming to my wedding,” she said in disbelief.
Mortimer felt pure anguish at the choice he’d had to make, to choose between his daughter, or his wife and soon to be born son, was a decision he wished upon no one. “Please try and understand Cassie,” he begged.
She couldn’t tell if she was more angered or hurt. “What do you expect me to say,” she cried. “That it’s okay? That I don’t mind that you, my father, are going to miss my wedding? And all because that gold digging whore can’t-”
“Cassandra, please,” Mortimer interrupted her. He knew she was upset, understandably so, but he couldn’t have her talk like that about his wife, the woman who was about to be the mother of his child. Cassandra had made no secret of her dislike of Dina, ironically mirroring his dislike of Don Lothario, but he had put his feelings aside for her happiness, and he only wished she could do the same.
Cassandra couldn’t look at him. She was decidedly angry, but mostly, she was just devastated. Devastated that her father wasn’t coming to her wedding, devastated because her mother couldn’t, and devastated because her father had chosen his wife, who was younger than she was, over her, his own daughter. But then again, hadn’t he made that choice when he’d married Dina and moved her into what was once their families’ home? “Just go,” she said impassively.
“I’m so sorry Cass,” he said gently. His daughter didn’t respond and he sadly left the room, closing the door behind him.
Her freshly applied makeup and quickly approaching nuptials were all that prevented her tears.
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Cassandra’s resolve not to let her father ruin her day held, and as she walked down the aisle, and met Don’s gaze, she felt no trepidation. The ceremony and reception were flawless, as to be expected; not only due to it being such a high society event, but the sheer amount of money Mortimer had spent on it. As she explained her father’s absence to Mary-Sue, she commented disdainfully that she really must thank him, if she ever spoke to him again.
Mary-Sue dutifully consoled her but it was seeing her husband smile at her from across the room that made her truly feel better. Although she couldn’t help but notice his face becoming oddly nervous on recognising Mary-Sue.
“Why is it that my husband looks scared of you?” she mentioned curiously.
Mary-Sue glanced absently at her hands, “I have no idea,” she replied unconvincingly. In truth she had ran into him into the hall while everyone else was seated and Cassandra was still upstairs getting ready. She had told him in no uncertain terms, that if he had any doubts he should walk away now, as if she ever found out that he had cheated on Cassie, that she would hunt him down herself.
“Mary-Sue, what did you do?” Cassandra pressed playfully.
“I just had a quick chat to him explaining my feelings on cheating spouses. The word ‘castrate’ may have been used.”
Cassandra laughed, despite the difference in their ages, Mary-Sue was truly her closest friend. “You’ve been watching too many chick flicks,” she chided gently.
“I can’t help it, Angela puts them on,” she defended poorly.
Mary-Sue pulled her friend into her arms, “You look beautiful, and this wedding is perfect, and you’re going to live happily ever after. You deserve it.” She tried not to dwell on her own perfect wedding so many years ago or her own failed happy ever after.
Cassandra knew it must be hard for her friend, so she gave her an extra squeeze before declaring they both needed champagne.
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Darren Dreamer had buried his hands in his jacket pocket during the ceremony, his distress so severe he’d actually damaged the fabric’s lining. He knew it was best if his hands were obscured; otherwise the temptation to raise his hand, when the question was asked if anyone had any objections, would simply be too great. He certainly had an objection, he thought the groom was a right dickhead and he happened to be in love the bride.
But he’d managed to hold his hands and his tongue, and briskly escaped to the bar in the hopes of alleviating the heavy pain in his chest. The young woman working the bar eyed him up and down appreciatively, “and what can I do for you?” she asked suggestively.
Although baffled by the woman’s enthusiasm, he ordered a neat scotch and turned to watch as Pleasantview’s elite began trickling into the reception room.
He took a long sip from the glass appreciating the rough burn as the liquor scorched his throat. At least that was distracting from the ache that threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn’t even sure why he came. Perhaps he had thought she would come to her senses at the last minute. That she would recognise that he was the one she should be marrying, and that it was he who would love and care for her like she deserved. He drowned more of his scotch and decided it wasn’t like it mattered now; any such dreams were now well and truly dead.
Noticing how quickly the liquor in his glass was diminishing, without even turning around, he commented dryly to the barmaid that it appeared the two of them would be seeing a lot of each other during the next few hours.
Had Darren seen it, her expression would have made it clear that she didn’t mind in the slightest.
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Many hours and neat scotches later, Darren had taken refuge in the room in which the ceremony had taken place. Melancholy had eventually overcome his brief alcohol induced apathy and the thought of talking to the newlyweds, which he had so far managed to avoid, seemed akin to torture.
His solitude did not last for long as his attention was drawn from the view of the park by a gentle touch on his arm. His first thought, much to his despair, was not only how extraordinarily beautiful she was, but how happy she seemed. The realisation that she was so happy without him felt like a kick in the guts.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night, if I didn’t know better I would have thought you were avoiding me,” Cassandra said lightly.
“I am,” he replied glumly, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“What? Why would you be avoiding me?” she asked confused.
Darren frowned, his melancholy swiftly being replaced by aggravation. “Oh come on! Are you going to seriously tell me you don’t know how I feel about you?”
“Darren, I don’t understand,” she responded bewildered, “please, just tell me what’s wrong.”
He stared at her hard for a moment, struggling with the possibility that maybe she had truly been ignorant of his feelings for her. “I love you,” he told her.
Cassandra sighed, “Of course. I love you too. Your one of my dearest friends-”
“No, Cassandra,” he cut her off sharply, “I love you.”
It took a few moments before Cassandra recognised what Darren was really telling her. Every moment she had spent with him, every word he had spoken, every action, it all suddenly took on a new meaning. The realisation shook her to her very core, “Oh, god, Darren. I, I didn’t know,” she whimpered.
“So yeah,” he said scathingly, “I’m sure you understand why I haven’t been exactly lining up to offer my congratulations.”
“I had no idea,” she said sadly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, “you have to believe me.”
“Would it have even made a difference?” he asked harshly, “It’s not as if you would have left him for me?”
Cassandra opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by Don entering the room. He didn’t fail to notice Darren’s clenched fists and his wife’s pained expression, “is everything okay?” he asked tightly.
Cassandra plastered a smile on her face, “Yeah Don, of course. Everything’s fine.”
“Well there’s my answer I guess,” Darren replied coolly, “Goodbye Cassandra.”
He strode out of the room without so much as a glance in Don’s direction. He could hear him approach her and talk to her in hushed tones. He imagined it was words of concern or endearment and he found that the thought of either made him feel ill.
He took a deep breath and tried to reason against the anguish. It wasn’t as if it concerned him anymore; she had made her choice, she was his now.
He headed back to the bar, he was in desperate need of a drink.
195 Main Street, Pleasantveiw
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Darren had been woken by the blinding morning sunlight which did nothing to help the pounding in his head. He tried to convince himself that it was the hangover that made him so thankful to find his bed empty. Although honestly, he wasn’t sure he would have been any more capable to handle the situation if he hadn’t felt so wretched. Waking up and making small talk with a woman you had just met and bedded was not a skill Darren had ever had to learn. He internally snorted, maybe he should ask Don Lothario for some pointers, he was, after all, apparently the better man.
Annoyed at himself for getting so stupidly drunk and even more annoyed at himself for dwelling on Cassandra’s marriage, he gave up on trying to get back to sleep and dragged himself downstairs. Lilith was making cereal and offered to make him a bowl, before seeing how nauseated he looked and suggesting he have juice instead.
Deciding against asking her how she knew so much about hangovers, he joined her at the table. She looked at him and smirked, “So,” she drawled. “How was the wedding? How was Brittany?” Lilith asked the last question very sweetly.
Darren looked at her horrified, “Oh god, how did you know?”
She let him stew for a few moments before grinning wildly, “Relax Mr D! She left you a note.”
Darren groaned although couldn’t help but feel relief. In hindsight, the couch was dreadfully close to his son’s room.
Lilith couldn’t help but chuckle.
Darren rolled his eyes, he knew Lilith was just teasing him. In the time she had been living with them, he’d discovered she was actually quiet playful and not the sullen teenager he’d always believed her to be. “Do you make a sport out of taunting hung over aging men?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she responded wryly, “Daniel gave me plenty of practice.”
A moment passed and it didn’t escape Lilith’s attention that Darren hadn’t answered her first question, “the wedding was that bad huh?”
The look of sadness that crossed Darren’s features as he silently took a sip of his juice answered her question.
“Did she know how you felt?” she asked sincerely.
“Who? Brittany?” Darren asked in reply, puzzled by the question.
“Cassandra,” Lilith responded patiently.
“Oh. No,” Darren said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she told him genuinely.
Darren gave her a half smile, “Can you stop being so insightful please?”
Lilith still had moments in which she would be caught off guard when she was treated not only as an adult, but as a worthwhile one at that. Her parents had always treated her as a juvenile delinquent, so that was how she behaved. “Yeah,” she said after a moment, “I get that a lot.”
While she’d never said anything out loud, Darren got the feeling that she hadn’t received a whole lot of affection from her parents. It seemed such a shame to Darren that Lilith and her parents had no relationship, he couldn’t bear to think of not being involved in his son’s life. Speaking of, Darren knew he had to ask, “So did Dirk see the note?”
“Oh yeah,” Lilith smirked.
Darren couldn’t help but groan again.
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Sorry there was no Dirk remisims, but hopefully Darren provided enough of the Dreamers for the moment : )