Plus-one

As the car slowed down in front of the grand estate, I felt a familiar pang of anxiety tighten in my chest. It wasn’t my first time attending a wedding as someone’s plus-one, but it was my first time attending a wedding as his. Marques had reassured me over and over again that I’d have a great time, that his friends were lovely, and that no one would care that I didn’t know the bride or the groom. But here I was, heart racing, feeling like an outsider about to crash the most important day of someone else’s life.

The driver opened the door, and Marques stepped out first, his confident stride making me feel like I should just slip back into the car and disappear. But he turned around, smiling at me with that effortless charm that had drawn me to him in the first place, and held out his hand.

"Ready?" he asked, as if I had a choice.

I forced a smile, placed my hand in his, and stepped out of the car. The estate was even more intimidating in person — a sprawling mansion surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens, with guests milling about in outfits that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

Marques squeezed my hand, and we started walking up the path toward the entrance. I could feel eyes on us already, and I had to remind myself to breathe. Marques had told me that he was one of the groomsmen, which meant I’d be alone for most of the ceremony and the reception. A thought that didn’t exactly help my nerves.

We reached the entrance, where a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair was greeting guests with a wide smile. He looked at Marques, his face lighting up with recognition.

“Marques! Glad you could make it,” he said, pulling Marques into a quick hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Mr. Hunter,” Marques replied, grinning. He turned to me, placing a gentle hand on the small of my back. “This is Ondrea, my girlfriend.”

Mr. Hunter's gaze shifted to me, his eyes warm but assessing. “Ondrea, it’s a pleasure. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steadier than I expected. “It’s a beautiful venue.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, giving me a nod before turning his attention back to Marques. “The other groomsmen are already inside. You should go join them. The ceremony will start soon.”

Marques glanced at me, his eyes questioning. “You’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” I lied. “Go ahead.”

With a quick kiss on my cheek, Marques disappeared inside, leaving me standing awkwardly at the entrance. Mr. Hunter had already moved on to greet more guests, and I was left to find my way inside alone.

The interior of the mansion was even more luxurious than I’d imagined. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the marble floors and grand staircase. Guests were mingling in the foyer, champagne glasses in hand, laughter and conversation filling the air.

I made my way through the crowd, trying to find a place where I wouldn’t feel like I was in the way. It was clear that most of the guests knew each other — old friends catching up, family members sharing stories, couples holding hands as they talked about how beautiful the bride looked.

I didn’t belong here. I was just the plus-one, a tag-along who hadn’t been invited because of who I was, but because of who I was with. Marques had assured me that it didn’t matter, but standing here among these people, I felt like an intruder.

I found a small alcove near the back of the foyer and leaned against the wall, watching the guests as they moved through the room. A group of women nearby were discussing the bride’s dress, their voices full of admiration and just a hint of envy.

“It’s Vera Wang, isn’t it?” one of them asked, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Of course it is,” another replied. “She looks stunning. I heard she had it custom-made in Paris.”

Custom-made in Paris. My dress had been bought off the rack at a department store sale. I had done my best to look the part, but no amount of effort could change the fact that I was out of my league here.

As I stood there, trying to shrink into the background, I noticed a woman staring at me from across the room. She was elegantly dressed, her hair styled in perfect waves, and her gaze was sharp, almost predatory. She started walking toward me, her heels clicking on the marble floor with a rhythm that seemed to sync with my rising heartbeat.

When she reached me, she looked me up and down, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Marques’s new girlfriend, right?” she asked, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Yes, I’m Ondrea,” I replied, trying to keep my tone polite.

She raised an eyebrow, as if appraising me. “Marques always had a thing for the… unassuming types.”

The words stung, and I struggled to come up with a response. Before I could say anything, she continued.

“I’m Barbara, by the way. I’ve known Marques for years. We were close once. Very close.” Her smile widened as she emphasized the last two words, her eyes glinting with satisfaction at the discomfort she was causing.

I forced myself to keep smiling, but it felt like a mask that could crack at any moment. “Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice strained.

Barbara leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Don’t worry, darling. You’re probably just a phase.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, reeling from the encounter. The sense of not belonging that had been gnawing at me all evening now felt like a gaping wound. I was just a phase? The thought twisted in my mind, making the entire night seem even more daunting.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that it was just one day. All I had to do was smile, make polite conversation, and avoid drawing too much attention to myself. Then, before I knew it, it would be over, and Marques and I would go home, and this would all just be a memory.

The sound of a piano began to play softly, signaling the start of the ceremony. Guests started making their way into the ballroom, where the ceremony would take place. I waited until the crowd thinned out before following them, not wanting to get caught up in the rush.

The ballroom was breathtaking. Rows of white chairs were arranged in neat lines, facing an archway adorned with flowers that looked like they had been plucked straight from a fairy tale. I found a seat near the back, grateful for the chance to sit down and blend into the background.

As the ceremony began, I couldn’t help but watch the bride and groom, wondering what it felt like to be so sure about someone that you’d stand in front of all your friends and family and promise to spend the rest of your life with them. The bride was radiant, her smile so bright it was almost blinding. The groom looked at her like she was the only person in the world, his eyes filled with love and admiration.

I glanced around the room, seeing the same expressions on the faces of the guests — people who were genuinely happy to be here, to witness this moment. I felt a pang of envy, not for the bride, but for the sense of belonging that everyone else seemed to share. They were part of something, and I was just a spectator, watching from the sidelines.

The ceremony ended with a kiss, and the guests erupted into applause. I joined in, though my clapping felt hollow. The newlyweds walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, followed by the wedding party. I caught a glimpse of Marques as he passed by, his face glowing with happiness. He didn’t see me, and I was glad. I didn’t want him to see the doubt that was creeping into my mind.

As the guests started to move toward the reception area, I stayed in my seat, not wanting to face the crowd just yet. But eventually, I knew I had to go. I stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress, and followed the flow of people toward the reception hall.

The reception was held in a massive tent set up in the garden, with twinkling fairy lights strung up along the ceiling and tables covered in white linen and gold accents. I found a place at a table near the edge of the room, where I hoped I wouldn’t be too conspicuous.

The dinner was served, and I picked at my food, not really tasting it. The conversations around me were lively, filled with laughter and stories of the bride and groom. I kept to myself, sipping my wine and pretending to be engrossed in the centerpiece.

After dinner, the music started, and the guests began to dance. I watched from my seat as Marques danced with the other groomsmen, his movements graceful and confident. I felt a pang of longing, wishing I could be like him — so sure of myself, so at ease in any situation.

As the night went on, I found myself feeling more and more out of place. The conversations at my table had turned to shared memories and inside jokes, leaving me on the outside. I considered leaving, but I didn’t want to ruin Marques’ night. He was having a great time, and the last thing I wanted was to be the reason he had to cut it short.

I decided to step outside for some fresh air. The cool breeze was a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the reception tent. I wandered through the garden, finding a quiet spot near a fountain where I could sit and collect my thoughts.

I sat by the fountain, letting the sound of the water soothe my frayed nerves. The night air was cool against my skin, and I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. I could hear the faint music and laughter from the reception tent, but out here, it felt like a different world — a world where I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

As I gazed at the stars reflecting in the fountain’s water, I felt a presence beside me. I turned to see Marques, his expression softening when he saw the look on my face.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting down next to me. “I was looking for you. Are you okay?”

I hesitated, not sure how to put my feelings into words. “I just needed a moment,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Marques reached out, taking my hand in his. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I should’ve checked on you sooner.”

“It’s not your fault,” I replied, shaking my head. “You’re part of the wedding party; it’s your job to be with them.”

“Yeah, but I’m also here with you,” he said, squeezing my hand. “You’re important to me, Ondrea. I want you to have a good time, too.”

I looked into his eyes, searching for the right thing to say. But before I could speak, a familiar voice interrupted us.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Barbara stood a few feet away, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. “I didn’t expect to find you two out here, all alone.”

Marques frowned, his hand still holding mine. “Barbara, this isn’t the time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d come and see how you were doing, Marques. We haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.”

I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Marques’ grip on my hand tightened, and I could sense the frustration building in him.

“Barbara, we’ll talk later,” Marques said firmly. “Right now, I’m with Ondrea.”

She let out a soft laugh, the sound grating against my nerves. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your… moment.”

Marques stood up, his posture tense. “Barbara, I think you should go.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, and I saw a flicker of something — hurt, maybe — pass across her face. But she quickly masked it with her usual confidence.

“Fine,” she said, her tone cold. “But don’t forget, Marques, I’ll always be around. You can’t just pretend like we don’t have history.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the stone path, leaving us in an uncomfortable silence.

Marques sat back down, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. “Barbara can be… intense.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure it really was. “She obviously cares about you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We dated a long time ago, but it ended for a reason. She’s not over it, but I am. You’re the one I’m with now, Ondrea. That’s what matters.”

I wanted to believe him, but Barbara's words kept replaying in my mind- You’re probably just a phase. The thought gnawed at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a temporary distraction for Marques.

He must have noticed the doubt in my eyes because he reached out, cupping my face in his hands. “Ondrea, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm. “I care about you. I’m with you because I want to be, not because I’m trying to replace anyone. Don’t let her get into your head.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “It’s just… hard. Being here, in this place, with all these people who know you so well. I feel like I don’t belong.”

“You do belong,” Marques insisted, his eyes locked on mine. “You belong with me. And I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear enough tonight.”

I felt a lump forming in my throat, the weight of my insecurities pressing down on me. But his words, the sincerity in his voice, were like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.

“I’m sorry too,” I whispered. “I’m just not used to this… being in a relationship with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Someone who’s so… confident. Sure of himself. You fit in here, and I don’t.”

Marques shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ondrea, you have no idea how incredible you are, do you? You don’t have to be like anyone else. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

His words touched something deep inside me, a part of me that had always felt out of place, no matter where I was. I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the truth in his eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. “I’m here with you, Ondrea. Don’t ever doubt that.”

We stayed like that for a moment, the world around us fading into the background. It was just the two of us, connected in a way that felt real, felt right. For the first time that night, I felt a sense of peace, a sense of belonging — not to this place, but to him.

“Come on,” Marques finally said, pulling back slightly. “Let’s go back inside. Together.”

I nodded, standing up and taking his hand. As we walked back toward the reception, I felt a new sense of confidence growing inside me. I wasn’t just his plus-one, an outsider looking in. I was here because he wanted me to be, and that was enough.

We re-entered the tent, the warmth and energy of the reception washing over us. Marques stayed by my side, introducing me to his friends, making sure I was included in the conversations. And though Barbara's words still lingered in the back of my mind, they no longer had the power to overshadow the moment.

The night went on, and as we danced together under the twinkling lights, I realized something important. It wasn’t about fitting in or being like everyone else. It was about being true to myself, and trusting in the connection I had with Marques. That was what mattered most.

As the evening drew to a close, I found myself smiling genuinely for the first time. Marques had been right — I had nothing to worry about. I wasn’t just a phase. I was someone who mattered to him, and that was enough.

As we left the reception hand in hand, I knew that whatever challenges might come, we would face them together. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I truly belonged.