Chapter 2

I stared at Andrew’s message.

You didn’t get to finish wearing it anyway. She may need it.

He meant the gown I had worn down the aisle to stand in front of him.

I took screenshots and placed my phone facedown on the vanity.

Outside, service carts rolled across the carpet.

The reception continued while the man I had almost married raced to the airport in our wedding car.

The hotel manager knocked and entered with the final bill.

The flowers, band, and food were nonrefundable. The photographer had worked less than an hour, but the contract covered the full day. My share came to $31,800, half of it from my personal savings.

“Mrs. Vale said the family would cover everything,” the manager said carefully.

“Bill us according to the original agreement.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. If Andrew’s family paid my share, they would call it compensation. Later, they would use it to push me toward whatever ending Andrew wanted.

My mother closed the door after the manager left.

“One ruined wedding doesn’t make six years of love a lie. Andrew will come back. You should hear him out.”

I removed the last pin from my hair. “He already explained. Ivy needs him, and I’ll still be here.”

“It was an emergency.”

Her words took me back to dinner on the first anniversary of my father’s death.

That night, Mom sat alone in the chair that had always belonged to him. I had just poured her wine when Ivy called. The zipper on the dress she had made for a portfolio review had broken, and she was crying that everyone would laugh at her.

I told Andrew any alterations shop could fix it.

He picked up his car keys anyway.

“Ivy has no one else,” he said. “At least your mother has you.”

He came home after one in the morning. Mom had not touched the cake in front of her. I apologized for him, explaining that since Caleb’s death, Andrew had considered Ivy his responsibility.

That was what I did best: turn his choices into circumstances beyond his control.

I messaged my landlord. The townhouse lease had always been in my name. I asked him to change the electronic lock code that day. Andrew’s belongings could be held by the concierge until he returned.

My mother saw the message, and her face tightened.

“Natalie, you shouldn’t make decisions like this while you’re angry.”

“If I wait until I’m not angry, Andrew will assume today can be smoothed over too.”

Before she could argue, I opened my vendor list and began ending each service. Every cancellation cost me money. It also left one less piece of the wedding for Andrew to expect me to preserve.

By seven, the last guest had left, and I finally changed out of my gown.

Andrew called me on video.

I almost ignored him. When the screen lit up for the third time, I answered.

He stood in an airport lounge without his jacket, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a man who had just completed a rescue worth admiring.

“Why did you cancel everything?” he demanded. “I told you I was coming back.”

Someone moved into view behind him.

Ivy wore a white satin dress held together at the bodice by silver pins. She rested a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and leaned into the frame as if she belonged there.

“I’m sorry, Natalie. I didn’t know he would actually leave the wedding.”

She sounded apologetic, but she didn’t look surprised.

Then she glanced down and adjusted her skirt.

Andrew reached over to hold her loose shoulder strap in place.

Watching them, I knew the wedding wasn’t the only thing I had lost in that church.