Chapter 28
twenty-eight
AMANTHA
Stained glass windows painted the dreamy chapel in multicolored hues. Anthony bounded through the doorway, his lavender tie askew.
“Mom, this is so embarrassing. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” His freckled nose wrinkled in disgust as he held a woven basket away from his body like a pair of dirty underwear. He turned and ran from the room with it, rose petals fluttering out as it bounced.
“Anthony, come back!” I tried to follow, but cement might as well have puddled around my ankles. A pair of arms slid around the white satin of my dress as a firm chest pressed against my shoulder blades.
“Babe, I can’t wait to marry you.” Hot breath nuzzled the shell of my ear.
Babe? My eyebrows furrowed. That couldn’t be right. The only person who called me that was—
Ryan stepped into view, his blue eyes an ocean of adoration. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He gathered one of my caramel-colored hands and pressed it to his lips.
A rock dropped into my stomach.
That’s not my hand.
I trembled as the unfamiliar hand shook too. It looked a lot like—
“Vanessa, it’s you. It’s always been you.”
I heard—no, I felt—Vanessa’s tittering laugh rise from my own throat. Horrified, I clapped my hands over my, or her, eyes as Ryan’s kisses continued to dot my face and hands.
I tried to move my frozen legs.
Tried to push him away.
My body was sheathed in sweat.
“My dress. I-I’ll ruin my dress.” For whatever reason, the thought panicked me.
“No, you won’t. I won’t let that happen to you.” A velvet voice coaxed my hands away from my face. Chestnut eyes smoldered down at me, flecked with liquid gold and brimming with affection. Val wore a tux and my favorite lopsided smile.
A pang of longing speared the terror in my chest. Not believing, I dared to trace the crinkles edging his eyes. He caught my palm and kissed it, the feeling of his lips entirely real.
Relief flooded through me.
“Oh, Val. He’s here. Ryan’s here and he thinks I’m going to marry him.” I shook my head, pleading through my tears. “I don’t want to marry him again. Don’t make me marry him.”
Val pressed his mouth to mine, familiar and safe. His hands cupped my cheeks, swiping my tears away with his thumb like my Dad always did.
“Take a breath. It’s just the stress of the wedding.” Val’s muscular arms enveloped my waist as he stepped behind me. There was such calm reassurance in that embrace. Of course Val would protect me.
I let my body sag against his chest. “Oh Val, I’ve missed you so much. You don’t even know how hard this has been for me.”
Val’s soothing kisses brushed my neck, his curls tickling the skin under my jaw. The familiar sensation made relief brim in my eyes. I ducked my head, letting him closer to my neck.
“Val, I—” I frowned, confused. “Wait, this isn’t my dress. I didn’t—”
“Look up, sweets. You’re the most beautiful bride.”
Sweets?
A full-length mirror materialized in front of us. I trailed up the candlelit satin puddled at my feet and flaring from my hips. Val beamed back at me before he planted another kiss on my neck.
My eyes—no, Stella’s—blue eyes grew with abject horror.
“What’s wrong, sweets?” Val towered above me, his concerned words contrasting the cruel smile now curling his lip. “Not what you expected?”
His face flickered impossibly as his dark curls morphed into Ryan’s sandy waves. Blue eyes pierced mine as now-Ryan advanced toward me.
“Ugly thing to wear to a wedding,” Ryan sneered.
My silk gown had vanished from my grasp, my fists now filled with my favorite bathrobe. An oversized graphic t-shirt peeked out from beneath.
“I-I’m not… I just—” Humiliation prickled in my eyes as I tried to sweep an escaped strand into my now messy bun.
“You're what? Not Vanessa?” Ryan morphed back into Val, his cold, fathomless glare boring into my terrified eyes.
“Or, you’re not Stella?” Val’s harsh laugh sliced right through me. Their double voices echoed in a mutation of the only two men I had ever fallen in love with.
“Of course you’re not. You never will be.” The still-morphing combination strode away, leaving me stranded.
“Wait!” I sobbed. “Come back. I’ll… I can—”
Life surged through my legs as I crumpled face-down onto the floor. The chapel's multicolored sunlight dappled my unkempt bathrobe as my tears soaked into the carpet.
I wasn’t Vanessa.
I wasn’t Stella.
I was Amantha, who was clearly not enough.
The church bells fell silent as I wept.
Iwoke from the nightmare to a tear-stained pillow and throbbing heart.
It was only a dream.
Val’s cruel smile was etched behind my eyelids.
It wasn’t real.
Ryan’s sneer still rang in my ears.
Gathering a pencil and journal from my nightstand, I tried to purge the haunting dream. My worst fears had surfaced, and I didn’t know how to even begin to deal with them.
The following work week passed in a blur. I avoided Val’s face at all costs, positive his nightmarish eyes would be still flat and empty. Thankfully, my to-do list was a mile long, requiring my full attention.
And I still had an eighteenth-century artist to defend.
First order of business? Those stupid keycard logs. They had taken the majority of the week to decipher. After countless lattes and a spectrum of highlighters, I had whittled down the logs to the necessary data. In the end, the logs only confirmed what I suspected.
Both Kendra and Val’s keycards had been used to access the basement archives around the time Attersee was put in storage. Even my previous boss, Barbara Gaines, appeared, completely exonerating Blythe, who hadn’t even been hired yet.
My chest warmed in relief. I loved my batty, unconventional boss. It was nice to know she wasn’t a criminal.
The investigation turned stale after that. Kendra only talked about the soirée, and Val wasn’t talking at all. Somehow, I felt if I could just see the storage room where Attersee had been stored, I’d find answers. Alas, my keycard didn’t have the clearance for the service elevator.
Lance Stirling’s soirée was only two quick days away. I spent the afternoon finalizing details, then made my way to the Bloomburg wing where Stirling was waiting for me and Blythe.
Stirling’s preview showing before the opening had been my idea. I didn’t want any surprises or mistakes to take any of us off guard. My footsteps faltered as a sudden intake of breath filled my soul. I pressed my hands to my racing heart.
The Bloomburg wing had transformed. Its walls had been repainted with geometric patterns, overlaid in varying levels of opacity.
The whole space felt fresh, as if Blythe’s contagious energy was layered within the walls themselves.
Regardless of her modest attitude, Blythe’s hair-brained schemes were beyond genius.
The viral sculpture of Lil Swagga stood front and center, complete with mirrored sunglasses and a tooth grill made from recycled soda cans.
Thick velvet ropes were strung around it, as well as the other sculptures in the hall.
The entire flow of the exhibition felt erratic and exciting, yet strategic somehow.
Stirling’s already young face seemed even younger as he explored his very own exhibition.
Eyes with child-like wonder, Stirling wandered the hall with his hands buried deep in his paint-flecked college hoodie.
Every so often, he’d stop at a golden nameplate beside a sculpture, running a finger along the engraved text as if to memorize the feel of it.
Happiness misted my eyes. This was what I had worked so hard for. To see a young artist living his dream.
Blythe clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We did it. You did it. This show is going to be incredible.” She gave me a squeeze before continuing to Stirling. I watched her guide Stirling to the blanketed podium where his auction piece would be revealed during the soirée.
The auction piece had been my idea as well. What better to drive traffic to the soirée than a never-before-seen sculpture from the artist? The proceeds from the auction would be donated to Stirling’s charity of choice.
Blythe finished her conversation, waved goodbye to us both, and left the hall.
Stirling approached me with a smile that rivaled the noon-day sun. “Amantha, I can’t thank you enough. This is more than I expected.” He seemed lost for words, running a hand through his messy auburn hair. The golden hoop through his nose glistened from the overhead spotlights.
“You’re welcome. None of this would have happened without you, of course. Your work… Well, it stands on its own.” I smiled. “And thank you for taking a chance on me. It was truly my dream come true.”
“If they don’t give you a promotion after this, they’re sleeping on the job.” Stirling opened his arms wide and slowly revolved. “It all hits differently when it’s yours, ya know?”
My cheeks began to ache from smiling so wide.
“You deserve this, Stirling. You really do. Unfortunately, I’ve got a last minute check-in with the caterer, so I’ve got to run.
Feel free to stay as long as you’d like, but the publicity team would like me to remind you that no pictures or videos can be taken until the opening. ”
“Of course. Our opening is gonna go viral.”
“That seems to be a hobby of yours.” I chuckled. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow night!”
Stirling waved goodbye before turning back to his living, breathing dream.
A wistful sigh escaped me as I walked away. If only my dreams could be as sweet—instead of the nightmares that still plagued me.
After avoiding a catastrophe of rotting cranberries and wilted tarragon, I hung up with the caterer. Being a self-proclaimed foodie, Stirling had insisted on serving at least seven finger foods. I had negotiated him down to three.
Blythe approached my desk in a tizzy. “Hey, I almost forgot. You’ll need this for the opening. Yours doesn’t have the right clearance.”
My eyes clung to the glossy white square she tossed on my desk. I tried to maintain a casual air as I picked it up.
“A new keycard?”
“Yes. This one has higher clearance, which you’ll need to access the service elevator to take you down to the kitchens. It’s the elevator right outside the Bloomburg wing. It would probably be a good idea to get familiar down there before the event, in case the caterers have any issues.”
Blythe stepped away, then said, “Oh, and it’s only temporary, so keep your other one. This one will deactivate after the soirée.” She grinned and jogged back to her office to pick up a ringing phone.
I didn’t care when the key turned back into a pumpkin. Thanks to my zany godmother, I now had a free pass straight to the archives.