I wake up to sunlight filtering through the blinds on a chilly autumn Saturday. I don’t even need to roll over to know William is up and taking on the day.

But I’m not sure about Michelle.

I bite my lip. I still can’t believe she is here, in London.

I sit up in bed, drawing my knees to my chest. Everything happened so fast the other night. As soon as I got the text from Michelle, announcing that Jason had cancelled the wedding, I went into a state of shock. I couldn’t even imagine how Michelle was feeling–I thought of how I would feel if William had called off our wedding–God, I can’t even imagine that, I really can’t. Gutted, devastated, utterly heartbroken–that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of how I would feel if I lost William.

I had called Michelle immediately, and when she answered, she was hysterical. Unhinged. Despite her behavior the past few months,  Michelle is my sister. I love her, and I would do anything for her. Period.

Michelle kept sobbing about how humiliated and embarrassed she was and all she wanted to do was run away. William sat with me during the call, and then, like the badass mogul he is, took charge of the crisis. He got on the phone, and to my shock, told Michelle to pack a bag. She was coming to London, and she was going to stay with us to sort things out. He purchased her a walk-up first class ticket on the last flight out of Chicago, arriving at seven o’clock the next morning.  We picked her up at the airport, and the second I saw her, my heart broke. Michelle was a mess, and it was obvious she hadn’t slept from the deep shadows under her eyes. In fact, she went straight to bed in our guest room and hasn’t been out since.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed. It was time to get Michelle up and something to eat. And then have a very real conversation about what happened with Jason and where she is going to go from here.

I get up, brush my teeth and get dressed, pulling on my Saturday outfit of yoga pants and a cozy hoodie. I brush my hair, slide a head band into it, and head down the hallway.

When I get to Michelle’s room, I see the door is open, and the bed is left in a mess. I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, she’s up, that’s better than sleeping all day. That’s a victory in itself, I think.

I head toward the living room, and I hear voices. William and Michelle’s. I stop dead in my tracks, as William and Michelle rarely say anything to each other more than friendly greetings and generic chit chat.

Then I realize I smell breakfast. Eggs and sausage. I hear sizzling, and God, has Michelle has rallied enough to cook? But next I hear a crash into the sink and William’s deep baritone voice.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, why can’t I cook sausage?” William snaps. “I’m sorry, Michelle, let me try that again. Third time should be a charm, right?”

I feel my mouth pop open. William is making her breakfast?

I walk into the kitchen and see Michelle at the large kitchen table, her head in her hands, a cup of untouched tea parked in front of her.

And then I look at William, who has a made an utter mess of the kitchen in his attempt to cook. There is a half-used carton of eggs, shells on the countertop, eggs burning in a pan this very second, a carton of cream, shreds of grated cheese…

“Do you need some help, love?” I ask, grinning as I move next to him and take the burning pan off the stovetop.

William turns and smiles brightly at me. “Bloody hell, you make this look so easy, darling.” He cups my face in his hands and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t get out for your Starbucks yet.”

“That’s okay,” I say, sliding my hands around his back. “I’ll make some coffee. And I’ll take over in here, if you don’t mind,” I add, smiling back at him.

“Don’t worry, MK, I’m really not hungry,” Michelle says weakly from the table.

“Not eating is no longer an option for you, Michelle,” William says firmly, his voice taking on the edge he uses in the office. Toast pops up in the toaster right on cue, and William moves to retrieve it. “Starting with toast. Now.”

I hold my breath as I reach for the coffee pot. Nobody tells Michelle what to do–ever.

And really, I’m the only person who tells William what to do, so this is rather intriguing to watch.

“I don’t care if I ever eat again!” Michelle snaps.

I stand frozen. William shoots me a look, and I know he is going into full on crisis management. He snatches the toast and puts it on a plate.

“That’s not logical,” William says, putting the toast in front of Michelle.

“Nothing is logical anymore!” Michelle cries, her voice thick.

“Wrong. Eating is logical,” William commands. He calmly crosses the kitchen to the refrigerator, takes out a jar of apple jelly I’ve made and some imported French butter, and puts them down on the table. Next he grabs a knife, setting it down next to Michelle’s plate, and then, to my utter shock, sits down across from Michelle at the table. “Now I want you to eat. And to tell me what happened. Why did Jason call off the wedding?”

Michelle rakes her hands through her wild, curly, copper red hair. “I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life,” she says slowly, her voice thick with unshed tears. “He . . . Jason . . . told me he was tired of staring in a production. That he didn’t feel like he was getting married, but playing a part! I mean, that is . . . utterly ridiculous! If he felt that way, he should have said something! I have paid all these people, ordered all these custom things, sent out ‘Save the date’ cards, and it’s just so embarrassing to tell everyone that Jason is backing out and-”

“Quite problematic,” William interrupts, putting his fingertips to his lips in a steeple position.

“I know,” Michelle sniffs, reaching for a tissue.

“No, it’s quite problematic that you haven’t mentioned love,” William says slowly.

I start the coffee and move to the table, sitting next to William.

“What?” Michelle asks, her teary brown eyes taking William in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

William reaches for my hand underneath the table and squeezes it. “All I know,” William says, “is that if Mary-Kate called off our wedding, décor would be the last thing on my mind. If I lost her-” He pauses and looks at me, “I would never recover.  To me, Mary-Kate is the most important person, my most cherished possession, my life. That is what I would be talking about, that is all I would be thinking about, if she were to leave me.”

My eyes fill with tears. I am so loved by this man, so absolutely and completely loved, and I still can’t believe William is mine. To love for the rest of my life.

“Me too,” I say, squeezing William’s hand in my own.

“Of course I feel that way!” Michelle roars, her eyes flashing. “Of course I love Jason!”

“Do you really?” William asks softly.

I suck in my breath. “William!” I gasp, shocked at his question.

“No, Mary-Kate, she needs to answer,” William says firmly. He turns his attention back to Michelle. “I have heard about all the plans, the embarrassment, all the money, the cancellations. But what I haven’t heard, Michelle, is that you love Jason. There’s a reason for that. You made this wedding the Royal Wedding, and I’m wondering if you made it a spectacle to distract yourself from the idea that he’s not the man you love.”

My heart wrenches as I watch Michelle go absolutely white at the table. She is shaking, and I reach across the tabletop and grasp her hand to comfort her. William has just dropped a much needed reality check on her, and I have no idea how she is going to respond to William’s accusation.

“Michelle,” I say quietly, pleadingly, “is William right? Please, Michelle, you need to be truthful. Is William right about this?”

To Be Continued…