Chapter 2
SLOANE
I stare at the giant heap of fabric on the floor.
The dress. My dress. I’d bought it from the Monique Lhuillier flagship in LA on a weekend trip with Kerry-Anne.
It was the first one I tried on, and the moment I caught sight of myself in the mirror as the shop attendant poured champagne for what everyone assumed would be at least an hour-long appointment, I nodded at my reflection.
“This is the one,” I’d said.
It fit perfectly. A-line, sweetheart neckline, classic lace overlay, and a modest train—it was elegant, yet practical for a full day of events.
Kerry-Anne had pushed back. You can’t choose the first one! she’d exclaimed. So I’d appeased her, tried on fifteen more dresses, but in the end I’d still swiped Jack’s credit card for that first one.
Did I truly love it? Or did I just want the whole circus to be over?
Regardless, thousands of dollars of Italian silk now lies spoiled at my feet, never once seen by the man I was supposed to wear it for.
I pull on the pants and shirt Ryan gave me. Both are too big, soft, and faintly scented with a nice kind of laundry soap I’d noticed the moment I passed him in the doorway.
I tuck the necklace under the shirt even though I’m tempted to flush the thing down the toilet.
I gather up the dress and drape it clumsily over the side of the bathtub, then look at myself in the mirror. I rip off a piece of toilet paper and rub away the smudged mascara, then do my best to tame my hair.
What now? Ryan offered me his phone. But who would I call?
I at least need to contact Kerry-Anne and tell her I’m okay. No sense in anyone thinking I drowned, even though Jack’s mother might appreciate the possibility.
When I step out of the bathroom, Ryan’s at the kitchen counter, pouring hot water into two mugs, teabag strings dangling over the sides.
I take a moment to look at him—his tall, lean frame, the way his T-shirt hugs his back. He’s an attractive man, with a kind of outdoorsy, self-reliant air—the type who might be featured in a Subaru commercial or something.
When I step into the kitchen, he turns to look at me, and I swear there’s a tiny upturn at the corner of his lips when he sees me swimming in his clothes.
“Earl Grey okay?” he asks. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Sure. Just a little milk.”
I hover awkwardly, unsure what to do with myself. “I might use your phone now, if that’s okay.”
He nods toward the table. “Passcode’s 1-2-3-4.”
“Really? That’s not very prudent.”
“I don’t have much to hide,” he says, stirring milk into my mug and passing it to me.
I tap in the passcode, then open the internet app.
“Do you mind if I send an email, actually?” I ask.
“I’ll see if my friend can come and pick me up.
” I picture Kerry-Anne sliding into her white BMW, assuring anyone who asks that she’s just going into town to pick something up, still in her bridesmaid gown but shifted into her new role as special ops secret runaway bride collector.
There is no one who could execute the task with as much discrete precision as Kerry-Anne.
I sign into my email in the browser and open a new message.
I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, I type into the subject line, add Kerry-Anne’s email address, then hit send without requesting a ride.
I’ll figure something out, I just need my friend to know I’m okay.
As a finance exec, she checks her inbox constantly, so I know she’ll see it right away, and discretely let Jack know I’m okay.
I’ll owe her drinks for life for being the messenger.
I sign out of my account before handing the phone back to Ryan, who’s sitting at the table, studying me with those steady brown eyes.
I suppose I owe him the story.
I slide into the chair opposite him, and immediately Marshall rests his huge head in my lap, gazing up with the same gentle expectation as his owner.
“Thanks for this,” I say and pull the mug toward me. Then I take a deep breath. “So…I guess you’ve gathered today was supposed to be my wedding day.” I glance down the hallway to where I can just glimpse the dress hanging over the tub.
“I thought so,” Ryan says. “What happened?”
How do I even begin? “I…left the wedding. I got in a boat and drove away.”
“Okay,” he says. “Wow.”
“Wow indeed.”
“Did something…happen?” he asks. His eyes are curious, but wary too.
I think of the necklace tucked under my shirt. And everything before the necklace. And how in the world I let it get this far. The thousands spent. The guests who travelled. The impossible expectations.
I tried, Lord knows I tried. It was just that what was perfect on paper had never clicked in for me. The fancy parties, the hotel suites, the country club membership. The unspoken rules that came along with each of them. The family hierarchy, and my predetermined role in it.
There was a time I’d thought that belonging to the Fordham family would do something to fill up the gap my mother had left, but instead, it had just made her absence more noticeable, like an ignored cavity left to fester.
My stomach churns with nausea at the thought of it.
“Had you been unhappy for long?” Ryan asks. He must notice the color draining from my face, because he reaches across the table and gently covers my hand with his.
“You know what?” he says, voice low and steady. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
I exhale. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Can I get you something to eat?”
I shake my head. I should be starving, given that my last meal was a bowl of Greek yogurt with raspberries and granola from room service, and that was hours ago, but the thought of food only makes me feel more sick to my stomach.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m going to call my friend at the coast guard office, see what they can do about your boat.
Do you want to check to see if your friend has responded first?
” He passes the phone back to me, and I open my inbox.
Kerry-Anne’s response is in all caps. CALL ME.
I swallow. I love my friend, but even facing her right now feels impossible.
I look up at Ryan. “Is there a hotel in town?” I ask.
“There is,” he says, his expression shifting slightly with concern. “Why don’t I make my call, then we can see about getting you a room. Or I can drive you somewhere else, if your friend isn’t able to come get you.”
He steps outside onto the porch, and I hear the muffled sound of a voice on the other side.
Where would he even take me? The condo Jack and I share in Seattle is three hours away. He seems like a nice guy, but that’s a huge ask. And what would I do there? Pack a bag and…go where?
Ryan returns inside. “I left a message,” he says as thunder rumbles outside. So much for the rain holding off for the wedding. Maybe, like me, Mother Nature had some surprises planned for today.
Seconds later, rain is teeming down against the roof.
“It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere right now, anyway.” He moves to the window and a bright flash of lightning slices through the sky. “This looks like it’s going to be a doozy. We’ve been having some crazy storms recently.”
The panic must be wiped right across my face, because he quickly adds, “You’re welcome to stay here, of course. My office doubles as a guest room and has a double bed. There’s a lock on the door too—pretty sure a family with a privacy-seeking teenager lived here before I did.”
He’s trying to make me comfortable. Considering how I might feel staying overnight with a complete stranger. The thing is—and maybe it’s the salt water messing with me—there’s something trustworthy about him.
“Thank you,” I say, honestly relieved. A few more hours to breathe before facing my old life feels like a mercy.
He puts on a movie—something about a chess player—and I’m grateful not to have to make small talk while the early evening turns to night.
Shortly after nine o’clock, Ryan hands me two towels and a glass of water for the night. Then he rummages under the bathroom sink and pulls out a new toothbrush stamped with Wild Rose Point Dental. “Made it in the no-cavity club again,” he says, grinning as he hands it over.
I can’t help but smile. “Congrats.”