Chapter 4

Saturday afternoon, less than twenty-four hours before the wedding.

I went back to Old Oak Manor alone.

The head table had been reset: six place settings, my name at Ethan's right hand.

A fresh scrape marked the hardwood beneath the extra chair.

"Your fiance asked us to change the seating yesterday," the wedding coordinator said.

I looked at the chair for a moment.

It had taken one phone call to put it back, but I could no longer pretend a seat beside Ethan was the same as being wanted there.

The wedding I had spent months waiting for no longer felt like mine.

Back at the townhouse Ethan and I had shared for eight years, I hung my wedding dress behind the bedroom door.

At six that evening, Ethan came home carrying two bags of wild-mushroom soup from my favorite Italian place.

"I know these last few days have made you feel alone," he said.

"Do you?"

He set the soup on the table but did not sit down.

"I know it looks bad," he said. "But I was trying to make things easier for you."

"By asking Megan what I needed?"

"Megan has known me since high school. All of them have. When something goes wrong, they are the people I call. They are family."

I looked at him.

"And what am I?"

"That is not what I meant."

"But it is what you said."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"You were overwhelmed. Your mom was sick. Work was changing. I thought if Megan handled the details, you would not have to carry everything alone."

"You don't seem to know who you're marrying."

Something in his face hardened.

"And you don't seem to know me at all."

"The five of us have been there for each other since we were seventeen," he said. "We do not stop showing up because one person feels slighted."

"I am not asking you to abandon them."

"But you keep asking me to choose."

His voice rose before he could stop it.

"Maybe if you had ever really tried to understand us, you would not always feel like you were outside the five of us."

He stopped.

For a second, he looked as though he had heard the words only after they were already in the room.

"Claire, I did not mean--"

His phone rang on the table.

Megan.

He answered before it stopped.

"Ethan?" Her voice came through the speaker. "The arch frame is coming loose. The florist needs someone to decide what to do."

He closed his eyes.

"I will come," he said.

I did not say anything.

He picked up his keys, then seemed to remember I was still there.

"Do not stay up waiting for me," he said quietly. "We will talk tomorrow. Everything will feel different in the morning."

He left before I could answer.

After the sound of his car disappeared, I went upstairs.

I left a note on the bedside table beneath a glass of water.

I packed my passport, medication, my mother's ring, and a few changes of clothes into a dark travel bag. Then I put the bag in the trunk of the rental car I had picked up the day before.

In the morning, it would take me to the train station.

I emailed the honeymoon hotel to cancel the spa appointment and the extras booked under my name.

But I did not cancel the wedding.