Chapter 2
Joey scoffed on my behalf. "The nerve of her, crying like that over somebody else's husband."
She squeezed my shoulder. "Don't worry. Jonathan couldn't even tell you what she looks like. You're the only one he sees."
But my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone as I dialed a number.
The person on the other end paused, clearly thrown. "A car accident? But your husband already settled the makeup artist's fee."
My voice came out thin. "What's her name?"
"Chloe Vaughn."
Chloe. Clover. My mind went white with a single roaring note.
In that one second, every last piece of my unease clicked into an answer.
The man who'd walked beside me from school uniforms to a wedding dress had cheated.
When his voice broke during the vows, he hadn't been thinking of the years ahead with me. He'd been worrying about Chloe, sobbing her heart out below the stage.
Even my baby's name had been nothing more than a memorial to the two of them.
My legs gave out. The room went black, and I fainted clean away.
*****
When I woke, I was already in soft pajamas, my makeup wiped completely clean.
All these years, Jonathan had been careful and attentive, the picture of a perfect partner.
The one thing he could never manage was makeup removal. He was so afraid of hurting me that he always left it half done.
But now he'd learned it too. And the thought of who had taught him drove a knife into my chest, leaving me breathless with the pain.
He hadn't noticed I was awake. Over and over, he clenched the phone in his fist.
At last, he pulled up the guest list from the night. Two hundred sixty-eight numbers, and he worked through every one of them, all so the final call could go to Chloe, to ask whether she'd gotten home safe.
The line connected, and Chloe's sniffling drifted through at once.
Jonathan sounded as lost as a green boy. "You silly thing. Don't cry."
Chloe choked out her words between sobs. "We never finished the 100 Couple Bucket List. From now on, will you still rub lotion on me after my showers?
"Will we still put on matching outfits and ride the hot-air balloon and the Ferris wheel?"
Her voice cracked further. "When we went bungee jumping, part of me wanted to just die right there, so at least we'd have grown old together. If you didn't have the fertility problem, if she weren't pregnant, you'd change your mind, wouldn't you?"
The night was so still that their conversation cut through the silence and went straight to my soul.
While I waited, barely daring to breathe, Jonathan let out a rough, bitter laugh. "My wife will always and only be Claire," Jonathan said.
In the endless dark, all three of us were sinking, and every one of us knew it. Chloe wept, and Jonathan couldn't bring himself to hang up.
I don't know how long it went on before she whispered, "I don't want anything anymore. I just want to stand in the rain with you one more time."
A bolt of lightning tore across the sky and lit up Jonathan's tear-streaked face.
The next second, he bolted out the door without a backward glance.
I don't remember how I ended up on the balcony. I only saw the two of them below, neither one holding an umbrella in the downpour, kissing like the world was ending.
It looked exactly like the summer we first had to part.
But Jonathan hadn't kissed me in a long time. And I'd been foolish enough to blame my own breath, checking it in shame like the problem was mine.
A chime broke in. The algorithm, with cruel precision, pushed a post straight to my feed.
It was a wedding-dress photo of Chloe and Jonathan, a trial shoot. The caption read: [My love, remember me at my most beautiful. The next time I wear a wedding dress, I won't be yours anymore.]
I stared hard at the date on the sheet. It was our 15th anniversary, the day he stood me up.
Jonathan had left three heartbroken-cat emojis in the comments, with a line beneath them: [Love doesn't run on who came first, but I owe her my loyalty.]
The tears slid down, and I cried out loud, as if I could purge the fury that way.
No wonder, then. The man who once couldn't stand to be apart from me became a stranger the moment we started planning our wedding, spending his days with his eyes glued to his phone and a foolish smile on his face.
Even our long-promised trip fell through, replaced by excuse after excuse. He wasn't just busy; he was already off seeing a better world with someone else.
A wave of nausea surged up my throat, and I hunched over the toilet and heaved until the room spun.
Jonathan's heart kept drifting away from me. And still he never once asked whether I even wanted this soiled marriage anymore.
No. I didn't want it.
When our relationship first came to light, Lydia Reed had looked down on my family and dragged my father's name through the mud.
My father, a schoolteacher, went gray overnight, and I'd nearly ground my teeth to powder. This time I would divorce cleanly, with my name spotless, and never drag my father down again.
I thought it over for a moment, then dialed a number. "Hello? Is this the Chloe Vaughn Bridal Studio? I'd like to book a session for a marriage-license shoot."
I barely slept a wink. As the sky began to pale with the first light of dawn, Jonathan finally crept back inside. Perhaps out of guilt, he brought me breakfast first thing in the morning.
"Baby, I talked my mom around. We'll go register on Monday. I've got a huge surprise for you," he said.
I smiled and said, "Sure. As it happens, I've got a surprise for you too."