Her words seemed to pierce him. Clyde’s attention shifted entirely to Betty, his gaze filled with concern and tenderness.
When he finally turned back to me, his voice was measured but distant.
"It’s been ten years, Angela. It’s not like there were no feelings at all. But what we have feels more like family. Marrying you gives me peace of mind."
"Being with Betty feels like love," Clyde said.
I stared at him in silence, not uttering a word. If that’s the case, I decided, let them have their wedding.
After Betty was sent to the emergency room, the doctor confirmed she was fine. I took one last look at Clyde, turned away, and asked the driver to take me back to the villa.
I planned to book a hotel, wait for my flight connection, and leave Brooklyn for good.
Clyde followed me out, calling after me.
"Angela, I’ve transferred the money for the wedding dress to your account. Go buy yourself a new one."
"I’ll be with Betty for the next few days, but don’t worry. I’ll be there for the wedding and won’t let you down. And don’t forget the vasectomy."
I didn’t respond and left without looking back. I waited until the wedding day to act.
Clyde bombarded me with frantic messages.
I finally replied with a single text:
[I wish you and Betty a happy marriage. I will not marry you.]
