The Wedding Gift - Chapter 5 - Caroline

Jack and I bought two bottles of red wine, fifty euros' worth of scratch cards, and a lottery ticket with six surprisingly lucky numbers printed on it. This was the first and, let’s be honest, most probably the last time in my life I managed to pick a set of numbers that could later be exchanged for one million euros.

The draw results became available online at 9:10 p.m. Instead of joining a fairly big group of young ladies on the dance floor, making weird moves and screaiming my lungs out to Put a ring on it, out of sheer curiosity, I chose to check the numbers. I couldn’t believe my eyes. They won. I just made them a million euros. People around me must’ve wondered what had happened because I squealed so loudly as if someone stepped on my foot with a shoe heel.

The minute I found out, I hurried over to save the bride from the wiggling crowd and pulled her aside to deliver the good news.

Her reaction wasn’t quite what I expected, but she did look excited. At least for a little while. She gasped and then hugged me so tightly that I almost ran out of breath. But something obviously bothered her. I mean, something was clearly off. She also asked me not to mention anything to Harrison which I found a little weird, but maybe she wanted to tell him herself.

Maybe it’s just my imagination, as I don’t know Paulina’s family that well, but from what I’ve heard, her dad is pretty rich with his company and all. Paulina’s parents are quite old, so she might be expecting a sizeable inheritance sooner rather than later. Just saying. Not that I want anything to happen to them. When you come from money, money is never such a big deal for you. When you’re poor, it’s the most important thing in the world.

Unlike Paulina, I could definitely use that kind of money. Jack and I would pay off our mortgage, buy a bigger apartment, and a new car or even two. I have always dreamed of a pearl white BMW convertible—not very practical, considering that summer in Poland lasts only three months, but who cares if you’ve got two cars at your disposal.

After buying all of that, I might still have enough money to get married in the south of France as I’ve always dreamed, and throw a wedding party on a beach, or maybe even in a castle. Jack proposed to me last month, but we decided to put off the wedding for another two or three years and focus on remodeling the apartment for now.

Honestly, I’m not surprised that Harrison was mad about the situation. But I also don’t think it was the most reasonable thing to do. I saw how happy he was earlier, running around telling people that he was going to quit his job. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That was the exact reaction I expected from Paulina.

Sometime before midnight, when the staff was wheeling in a beautiful pink three-tier wedding cake onto the empty dance floor—the guests were sitting at their tables at that time—Harrison rushed down the stairs into the ballroom, clutching an almost empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and shouting that somebody had stolen his lottery ticket.

He went to his parents and his in-laws first and assured them that he loved them and would never, in a million years, suspect any of them. Then he stared at some guys for a while, came closer and hugged them, saying they were his best friends, and that he trusted them with his life. Harrison also mentioned something about Amsterdam—that he’d never forget what they did or something like that.

Everyone fell silent, waiting to see Harrison’s next move. The staff seemed confused, unsure whether to cut the cake or wait for Harrison to sober up a little. All eyes were on Harrison, but none of the guests dared to move, not to draw attention to themselves. People seemed curious about how the situation was going to pan out.

Harrison swayed across the dance floor, holding his whisky bottle and staring at people with his bloodshot eyes, when he finally spotted his next prey. The second he saw Conor, he started yelling with his slurred, drunk voice, “You! I know youuuu! You’re the Irish guuuuy,” and then he was trying to unsuccessfully mimic Conor’s accent. He said something like “Oi! Conor! I know what you did. I’m gonna smash your head, you little bastard!”. I know it may sound funny now, but no one laughed at the time.

Harrison took another swig of his whiskey. Two of his friends quickened their pace as they walked toward him, but he just gestured for them to stop. Conor looked at Harrison pitifully, said he had no idea what Harrison was talking about, then turned and started walking toward the exit.

Harrison, clearly offended, yanked the Irish guy by the back of his shirt, and in a matter of seconds, what had been a bottle was now a thousand shattered pieces scattered across the floor—and on Conor’s head.

I, as well as a few other women, screamed in fright, and then quickly turned my head away as I couldn’t stand the sight of blood running down Conor’s head. Then Jack, without saying anything, rushed towards Harrison and Conor. Before my fiancé managed to grab any of them, two of the groom’s friends tried to separate the guys, struggling to do so as Conor appeared to be not only tall but also pretty strong. He punched the groom in the face so many times that Harrison almost passed out. At least that’s what I’ve heard from the man beside me.

Finally, they managed to separate them, so the guys could drag Harrison outside. He kept mumbling that he is a lawyer and that Conor is a dead man.

I’ve been to lots of weddings, but this was too much. After what I saw that night, I am certain there’ll be no alcohol at my wedding. I don’t need that kind of drama, thank you very much.

Thankfully, Paulina wasn’t inside the ballroom to witness any of that. She arrived right after the incident—Harrison had already been brought outside, Conor was sitting in the middle of the ballroom, covered in blood, and the guests just stood there dumbfounded. Paulina was clearly horrified, but she kept her composure and together with Hanna she took Conor somewhere outside. Probably to the hospital or something.

One of the women from the staff came up to the band’s lead singer, and so, in less than five minutes, the band resumed playing like nothing happened. Then the lady joined the other one, and they both started cutting and handing out small pieces of the cake to the guests, who slowly took their seats and, hesitant at first, resumed eating and talking—so everything pretty much went back to normal.

The cake was actually very tasty. Not too sweet.