Chapter 2
Iris
I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
White gown and veil, both embellished with handmade Italian lace.
Picture-perfect makeup and hair.
My late mother’s pearl choker wrapped delicately around my neck.
If it weren’t for my red, puffy eyes, I’d be my wedding Pinterest board come to life.
Well, also, if it weren’t for the fact that my groom has turned out to be a pathological liar.
A narcissist, at any rate. Whatever his technical diagnoses, the bottom line is the Prince Charming I thought I’d be marrying today has turned out to be a lying, cheating sack of shit.
With a loud sigh, I unclasp my mother’s treasured necklace.
I thought wearing it today would help me channel her legendary strength and tenacity.
But now that I’m seeing it on me, I can’t bring myself to taint her memory this way.
If I wind up getting married for real one day, I’ll wear this precious keepsake then.
Granted, that seems unlikely now. I can’t imagine myself trusting any man enough to fall in love, let alone to say yes to marrying him.
But time heals all wounds, so they say. I’m only twenty-six, after all. Never say never, I guess.
A rising din in the adjacent chapel jerks me from my thoughts.
It sounds packed in there. Which means any minute now, my mother’s best friend, Darcy, will come in here to fetch me from my requested moment of solitude.
Thankfully, Delilah promised not to give her big brother a heads-up about what we discovered last night.
After she saw the phone’s contents, she agreed it was my news to break and nobody else’s.
Poor Delilah. I think she was as devastated as me last night, in her own way.
At any rate, thanks to Delilah’s discretion, I’ve got a decision to make.
Am I going to follow through with the juicy plan my friends and I cooked up last night after Delilah fell asleep, or am I going to quietly sneak out of this dressing room and leave Brandon standing at the altar in front of everyone he knows and tries so hard to impress?
If I’d found out about Brandon’s betrayals before last night—at least, with enough time to get my father’s money back from all the wedding vendors—I’m sure I would have broken up with him back then and quietly cancelled everything.
It’s never been in my nature to make a scene.
But given the actual timing here, I’m not willing to go gentle into that good night.
The last thing I want to do is give Brandon the unfettered opportunity to create some false narrative about me in front of everyone we know.
Now that I know Brandon’s true character, who knows what he’d be willing to say to save face?
A soft knock prompts me to turn away from the mirror. But it’s not my mother’s best friend who enters the small room; it’s Kaylee, Tatiana, and Harper—aka my life support system.
“Have you decided?” Tatiana asks gently.
“Whatever you want to do,” Harper adds, “we support you one hundred percent.”
A puff of air escapes my nose. “Well, what I want to do is douse that motherfucker in gasoline and barbeque him with a flamethrower in front of everyone he knows.”
Everyone laughs, including me. But nobody more so than Kaylee.
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Kaylee says with a gleam in her eyes. “I’ll go get the flamethrower, baby.”
“Sadly, I can’t do that without going to prison, though,” I lament with an exhale. “Not with this many witnesses, anyway. So, I guess I’ll settle for torching Brandon’s reputation, instead.”
“Shoot,” Kaylee says, snapping her fingers. “I was so hyped about the barbeque idea.”
“Life is full of disappointments, my love.” I rub my forehead. “I should warn Delilah. She might want to contract a mysterious case of the stomach flu right about now.”
Tatiana shakes her head. “I just talked to her. Delilah said she supports you, one hundred percent. She wants to stand by you today, literally and figuratively.”
My heart lurches at the unexpected vote of confidence. “Delilah said that, or that’s your interpretation?”
“She said it, just like that. This has been humbling for her. Before last night, she thought Brandon walked on water.”
My heart squeezes for poor Delilah. “Brandon fooled everyone, including every person sitting in that church.”
“All the more reason to go in there and torch him,” Kaylee says. But when Harper and Tatiana glare at her, she adds, “But, of course, we’ll support you, no matter what you decide.”
“I’m going to do it,” I whisper. “I’ll regret it if I don’t.” I look at a circular clock on the wall. “Will one of you grab my dad and brother and ask them to meet me in the hallway? I don’t want to blindside them when everything goes down.”
“I’m on it,” Harper chirps before scurrying away, the long skirt of her yellow bridesmaid gown whooshing glamorously as she goes.
“What a waste,” I mumble softly, my heart panging with memories of our ebullient day of dress shopping months ago. “I was giddy about your bridesmaid dresses when we picked them out.” I look down at my own gown. “About mine, too.”
“None of our dresses will go to waste, honey,” Kaylee declares. “We’re going to wear the shit out of them while celebrating you dodging the biggest bullet of your life tonight.”
I hang my head. “I don’t feel much like celebrating.”
“Then you’ll drown your sorrows while we dance around you,” Tatiana insists. “Kaylee’s right. Why let all that money go to waste?”
It didn’t occur to me I’d go forward with the reception tonight, but I think my friends are onto something. Everything is all paid for, after all—the food and booze and so on. Why not enjoy all of it in celebration of me not marrying a serial cheater/sociopathic narcissist?
“Okay, count me in.” As my friends express support, I take a deep breath to calm my racing pulse.
“I need to get this show on the road, or I’ll lose my nerve.
” I double-check that Brandon’s weapon of mass destruction is still nestled inside my bra.
When I see that it is, I head toward the door with my shoulders set and my head held high.
“This is going to be fine,” I murmur to myself.
“I’m going to stay calm the whole time, stick with the facts, and torch him with his own words. ”
“Iris,” Dad breathes as I approach him and my brother in a quiet corner of the church’s hallway. “You look so much like your mother in that dress.”
“You look beautiful, Iris,” my brother, Atlas, agrees.
He’s the only person who never fell prey to Brandon’s charms. In fact, my brother has flat-out never liked Brandon, for reasons he couldn’t articulate other than to say, “I don’t know, he just seems super fake to me.
” That comment always baffled me as much as it annoyed me.
But now I know my little brother had a sixth sense all along.
I look around to make sure nobody can overhear the shocking thing I’m about to say to my family. God knows I especially don’t want to say this to my father. He’s always loved Brandon like a son.
“I’m not going through with the wedding, Daddy.”
“What?”
“Let me explain without interruption,” I whisper urgently, glancing around.
“We don’t have much time.” I give them a quick summary of what’s happened, and with each new sentence out of my mouth, my father looks more and more like he wants to throw up, while my brother looks more and more like he wants to commit an extremely violent murder.
“I always knew something was off about him,” Atlas says through gritted teeth.
“Believe me, I wish I’d listened to you. I guess I was too brainwashed.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Dad murmurs, rubbing his forehead. “I never thought Brandon would—”
“He would, Daddy, and he did. Repeatedly, and for a very long time.” To emphasize my point, I pull out Brandon’s burner phone and quickly show them a string of dirty texts from about two years ago—the one where Brandon told some woman he was coming over that night to “rail” her until her insides were “scrambled.” “This is just one of many, many examples,” I say.
“He’s been cheating on me since we got to Denver, at least. Probably longer, but this phone doesn’t go back that far. ”
“But why?” Dad laments. “When he’s got the best girl in the world?”
“It’s pointless to ask why. I don’t even want to hear his excuses. All I want to do is unmask him in front of everyone he knows so I can get on with my life and never look back.”
Dad furrows his brow. “Unmask him? What does that mean?”
I tell Dad my plan to out Brandon at the altar as the lying, cheating scumbag he is, and my father looks like he’s on the cusp of a heart attack.
“No, Iris. You can’t do that. Please, no.”
“That’s exactly what she should do,” Atlas insists. He pats my shoulder. “Go for it, sis. I’ll tackle him to the ground if he starts anything.”
“Physical violence won’t be necessary. I’m going to say my piece calmly and succinctly, and then walk out with my head held high.
” I touch my father’s arm. “I’m not asking for your permission, Daddy.
I’m giving you fair warning so you can brace yourself or choose not to walk me down the aisle, as planned.
” I pull away and begin to wring my hands.
“I would have told you about this last night, but since we can’t get any of your money back, I figured I’d take some time to decide what to do for myself. ”
“Don’t worry about the money,” Dad mutters, still rubbing his forehead. “That’s the least of our concerns.”
My heart squeezes with affection for my sweet father. He’s not a wealthy man. Not even close. So, the fact that he said that, and with such sincerity, touches me deeply.
Dad takes my hand. “I’m worried you’re going to regret handling things in such a public way. You’ve never liked being the center of attention.”
My brother shakes his head. “If ever there was a time for Iris to get out of her comfort zone, this is it. That motherfucker deserves to be publicly shamed, Dad.”
“Don’t say that word here, Atlas,” Dad snaps. “We’re in a church.”
Atlas scoffs. “So, it’s okay for a scumbag to stand in a church and pretend to be the world’s most perfect guy, but I can’t call him out for it while standing in a hallway?”
Dad sighs. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I squeeze my father’s hand. “Some of Brandon’s clients are here today.
Don’t you think they deserve to know about Brandon’s true character?
If he was willing to cheat and lie with me, then what’s he been doing with their money?
There are weird bank notifications on the phone, Dad—from a bank I’ve never seen Brandon use.
I don’t know what it all means, but I think it’s possible Brandon’s been stealing money at work. ”
“Jesus,” Dad says, running his free palm down his forlorn face.
“Do you remember what Mom used to say about us doing things in secret?” Atlas prompts.
Dad nods slowly before whispering, “‘If you’re too embarrassed to do something loud and proud and in front of the whole world, then that’s your sign you shouldn’t do it at all.’”
Atlas and I exchange a nod.
“Words to live by,” I whisper.
Dad pauses for an eternal moment. Clearly, he’s distraught. But eventually, he squeezes my hand and says, “I’m with you, honey. Do whatever you need to do, and we’ll both support you.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Atlas.”
My brother takes my free hand. “Now, get in there and take that motherfucker down.”