Chapter 44
Harper
As we stand outside the Starlight Manor, I let out a sigh. Why did I decide to come here? Oh, right—closure on the past.
“We don’t have to go inside, you know.”
I look at him and force a smile. “I need to do this.”
“Whatever you want.”
We step inside, and I can feel the surprise in the air. It’s not just me. It’s us. This chapter of my life is officially closed, and I need to show myself—and everyone else—that it no longer holds power over me.
Ford slips my jacket from my shoulders with careful hands, passing it to the coatroom attendant before turning back to me.
His eyes travel slowly from my face down to my silver stilettos, then back up, lingering on the midnight-blue silk that hugs my waist before falling in a waterfall to my ankles.
“You look astonishing, Harper,” he says, voice dropping half an octave.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I smooth my hands over the delicate beadwork scattered like stars across the bodice.
The dress is more elegant than my usual wedding attire, a sleek column with a tasteful slit that shows just enough leg when I walk.
For once, I’m not juggling camera equipment or crouching for the perfect angle.
I’ve chosen something that makes me feel beautiful without sacrificing mobility.
No trailing hemlines to trip over or plunging necklines threatening to reveal more than intended.
“It is pretty, isn’t it?”
He pulls me close and whispers, “It’ll look even better lying on the floor of the bedroom when we get home.”
The warmth returns to my face, and I giggle as he kisses me. Everything he says feels electric and intimate, like a scene from a movie.
“Harper! You came!” Dorothy exclaims, opening her arms for a hug.
As I embrace her, I feel a mix of awkwardness and longing. Even when tipsy, Dorothy always welcomed me. “Hi, Dorothy. You look beautiful.”
“And Ford, it’s good to see you, too.”
He hugs Asher’s mom, and she holds our hands. “You make a lovely couple.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “We should probably take our seats.”
“Pick anywhere. There are no sides or ushers.”
“Oh, okay,” I say.
The ballroom is set for the ceremony, and it’s stunning. Merlot and white shimmer from every surface, crystal vases catching the light, tiny fairy lights woven through garlands along the aisle. Even the chair covers have the exact wine-colored satin sashes I’d specified in my original plans.
But instead of the white peonies and hydrangeas I’d chosen, lilies spill from every arrangement. At least she didn’t replicate everything.
Programs sit on the chairs, and Ford gasps when he reads his. “What?” I ask, grabbing the one from my seat and staring in horror. “Alex and Tracy.”
Across the top, it reads THE WEDDING OF ASHER ANDREWS AND HARPER WALLACE, with my name crossed out and KENZIE MARKS written in its place. Handwritten.
“And I’m cut out, too,” he says, pointing to the scratched-out name under BEST MAN.
“I’m kind of scared to see what else they’ve done,” I admit.
“If nothing else, it should be entertaining.”
My stomach tightens, and I shift closer to Ford. He drapes his arm along the back of my chair, his thumb finding the bare skin of my upper arm. The gentle circles he traces there send a flutter through me, like coming home after a long journey.
Behind the heavy burgundy curtain at the front of the room, a familiar silhouette appears.
Asher’s face emerges just enough for me to catch the hard set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes as they lock onto Ford’s hand on my skin.
I press my fingertips against Ford’s thigh, a silent alert, and tilt my chin toward the curtain.
“Well, if that doesn’t look like a happy and excited groom…”
I giggle and turn away to hide my amusement. “I don’t think he likes us together.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Music starts, and I jump as the unmistakable brass fanfare of the Star Wars theme song blares through hidden speakers. Tracy and Alex parade down the aisle with exaggerated steps, nearly in lockstep like imperial stormtroopers.
Their bridesmaid dresses are puke green, and the ugliest I’ve ever witnessed.
The satin fabric catches the light in all the wrong ways, emphasizing every wrinkle and bulge, while cascades of cheap tulle erupt from the waistline like mutant seaweed.
They’re grinning like mischievous children who’ve just colored on the walls with permanent marker.
“Well, that’s quite the entrance,” Ford mutters.
Everyone stands as we turn to see Kenzie at the end of the aisle. She looks as if she’s been crying, and I gasp. “That was my dress.”
“What?”
“She’s wearing the dress I had on order,” I explain.
“She really did steal everything. But, um, is that part of the design? Because she might have done you a favor…”
Gasps ripple through the crowd as she walks down the aisle, tears streaming down her face. Not tears of joy. My jaw drops.
“That’s not part of the dress,” I whisper.
“Are those… nipples?” Once she reaches us, the truth becomes painfully clear.
“I think that’s wine.”
“She did choose the color merlot.”
I chuckle until she passes by, and my hand instinctively flies to cover my mouth. A large crimson stain blooms across the back of her ivory gown like a crushed rose, spreading from the small of her back downward in an unmistakable pattern that every woman in the room recognizes with visceral dread.
Ford’s shoulders shake with barely contained laughter beside me, but beneath my initial shock, a twinge of sympathy for Kenzie surfaces. That unique feminine solidarity that transcends even the deepest rivalries.
“Alex and Tracy said there was more she hadn’t found yet. I think we’ve uncovered it,” I mutter.
“Please be seated,” the reverend says.
We settle into our seats, and Kenzie turns to Asher. But Asher’s gaze is fixed on… me.
“He’s lucky his bride has already been humiliated. Otherwise, I’d give him what he’s got coming,” Ford growls. “He doesn’t get to look at you like that anymore.”
“We are gathered here to celebrate the union of Asher Andrews and Harper Wallace.”
Leaning forward, I bury my face in my hands as laughter erupts around us. Ford’s hand rests on my back, and he whispers, “Okay, this is bad if I feel sorry for Kenzie.”
“It’s Kenzie Marks.”
“Oh, sorry. I have Harper Wallace written down. My mistake. We’re gathered here to celebrate the union of Asher Andrews and Kenzie Marks.”
I sit back up and lean into Ford, overwhelmed by secondhand embarrassment. The rest of the ceremony unfolds smoothly… until Kenzie needs to pass off her bouquet for the ring exchange.
A similar red stain appears along the front of her dress, creating a stark, unmistakable contrast against the ivory color.
Even Asher’s eyes widen at the sight, and Kenzie’s shoulders hunch forward slightly as she tries to maintain her composure in front of most of the town.
I can only imagine how mortified Kenzie must feel.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Ford whispers in my ear, “but they went too far.”
I glare at Alex and Tracy, who giggle like schoolchildren next to Harper. Kenzie may not be a good person, but their enjoyment of her pain feels excessive.
“At what point do they become like her in their vindication?” I whisper back.
“Pretty sure they crossed that line when they printed programs with your name instead of hers. My name, sure, that was recent, but those could have been approved long ago.”
“But my name should never have been on there,” I agree.
“Please welcome me in presenting Mr. and Mrs. Andrews.”
We stand and clap, watching Kenzie struggle against tears of humiliation as they walk down the aisle. I regret coming. When Alex and Tracy stroll past, they smirk at me, but I scowl and shake my head. Their smiles fade, and they hurry away.
“I think they know they’re in trouble with Mom,” Ford mutters.
“They went too far. Things that are fixable but inconvenient are one thing, but this is just cruel.”
“I love you for caring when you have every right to say she deserves this.”
Kenzie deserves a lot of things, but not this on her wedding day. It reminds me that I shouldn’t meddle in karma’s timing. It will return to haunt Tracy and Alex hard enough.
I consider telling Ford we shouldn’t go to the reception. I’m scared to think about what other surprises await. We’ve already been seen, and I don’t want anyone thinking I played a part in this.