If You Were Mine (Northfield #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lily Hart had a bad feeling.

She tried hard to avoid bad feelings as a general rule, but the band tightening around her lungs made a mockery of that rule today. Lily took a deep, cleansing breath and repeated her mantra.

I am a still lake, not a stormy sea.

Emotions and energy were interconnected, as she taught her yoga students, and she strove to live a life with positive energy. Some people, namely the man waiting at the altar for her right now, thought she was a little woo-woo, but she didn’t let it bother her.

Except that her heavy dress and the corset underneath cinched her ribs, magnifying the feeling of suffocation.

Not exactly the fairy-tale start she’d pictured.

“Of all the days for an early snowstorm,” Angela Cawthorn, her future mother-in-law, muttered, turning from the window with tightly pinched lips. She cast a critical eye over Lily. “Try not to fuss with the flowers. They’ll look strangled by the time Tucker sees you walking down the aisle.”

The cloying fragrance of stargazer lilies filled the air of the small room to the side of the chapel, turning Lily’s already twisting stomach.

She hated stargazer lilies. She hadn’t picked them, or the bridesmaid colors, or the bouquet. Every choice had been Angela’s because, Lily doesn’t mind, right, dear?

Lily minded. But she hated disappointing people even more.

Once upon a time, the idea of marrying her high school sweetheart had filled her with happiness. Her sisters would groan and pretend to gag over their too-cute romance.

She’d been the bubbly cheerleader, Tucker the star quarterback. Everyone just assumed they would marry one day.

Today was the day.

She rubbed absently at her chest and forced a serene smile.

I am a still lake.

Tucker loved her, and she loved him. Of course she did. Sure, they had had bumps lately, but who wouldn’t with all the extra wedding stress?

Mrs. Cawthorn could be a little much, but Tucker was her only son. This was her last hurrah, Lily fervently hoped.

So Lily had kept quiet and let everything roll off her back—she was as peaceful as a still lake, dammit.

Soon she would be happily married and, hopefully, a mother.

“God, what’s that smell? Is this a wedding or a funeral?” Amber wrinkled her nose, shutting the door behind her. Her tea-length baby-blue dress caught in the doorway, and she yanked it free with a grin, tearing a neat line off the ruffled hem. “Oops.”

She stuck out a long leg with a saucy smile. “Better, right?”

Even the unflattering dress couldn’t make Amber look anything less than stunning, round pregnant belly and all.

Angela’s lips pressed into a thin line. Lily met Amber’s laughing eyes while their mother, Annette, shot Amber a quelling look.

Safe to say there was no love lost between Angela and the Harts, but especially Amber.

The two had clashed from the start, despite Lily’s best attempts at smoothing things over.

Lily suspected Amber delighted in pushing Angela’s buttons.

Those two would do well to take her Find Your Flow yoga class, although her studio might be too small for their clashing energies.

Allie, the eldest Hart sister, stepped in. “The dresses are lovely, Angela.” She gave Amber a pointed look, and then turned to the two little blond flower girls climbing over the benches. “Savannah, Tessa, please sit down on your bottoms before you ruin your dresses.”

Savvie jutted her lower lip but stayed put. Tessa sat and smiled angelically.

“How are you feeling?” Evie whispered. Like Savvie and Tessa, Lily and Evie were identical twins. Only Evie’s ever-changing assortment of glasses set them apart.

“Never better,” Lily lied. She dropped the smile under Evie’s skeptical gaze. “Like I might throw up.”

“Did you take your inhaler?” Evie handed Lily’s purse over.

“Not yet.” Lily dug inside for the inhaler never far from reach. Her phone buzzed with a new message. She opened the notification, noting the unknown number. Curiously, Lily tapped the picture to enlarge it.

Her heart stopped.

The noise in the room—the chattering, the giggles of her nieces—faded. Blood roared in her ears as she stared at the photo, her hands trembling.

“Lily.” Evie’s voice penetrated the buzzing in her ears, and Lily looked up at her sister in shock.

Her brain refused to process more than a few details at a time of what she was seeing.

A mirror selfie, taken in what looked like a hotel bathroom—white, sterile, with miniature toiletries neatly reflected on the sink.

Tucker—shirtless, his red underwear digging into his hips, emphasizing the extra padding there from too much beer over the years.

It was a new pair of underwear, she noticed, slightly hysterical. Bright red, silky, and expensive looking.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She knew that pair. Not because she’d seen it before—no, this wasn’t one of the threadbare undies she’d washed and folded for years. They were new. A style she’d secretly wished he cared enough to wear for her.

And there, pressed to his side, her towel barely clinging to her bare skin, was Madison.

His assistant.

She slammed her eyes shut, trying to erase the image of another woman wrapped around Tucker, her lips pressed to his cheek, her hand curled possessively around his bare chest, but it was burned into her mind.

The realization hit Lily like a gut punch, knocking her breathless.

Her stomach lurched violently. The future she’d imagined since she was a little girl—the white dress, the house they would build, and the family they would fill it with—shattered by a photo.

Her throat tightened, and she let out a choked sound.

A firm knock on the door jolted Lily from her thoughts. Her brother-in-law, Davis, leaned in, shaking a few stray snowflakes from the shoulders of his tuxedo. “The storm slowed things down, but we’re all here now. Everyone ready?”

The roomful of people turned their eyes on her, smiling expectantly.

Lily froze. For one long, horrible moment, she considered slipping the phone back into her purse, swallowing the jagged rock in her throat, and pretending as if she hadn’t seen the photo.

Her body moved on its own, one shaky step forward, her vision tunneling as she wobbled on her four-inch white satin heels. Davis straightened up, his smile replaced with a frown when he caught sight of her.

“Wait.” Evie’s hand shot out and gripped Lily’s arm like a lifeline. The familiar touch scraped against the lace of her sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, the dress was too hot and too tight. Lily wanted to tear it off. She glanced at Evie, the one person who had always been able to read her.

Lily’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The image of Tucker in his pristine new underwear, a pair she wasn’t meant to see, burned in her mind.

Fire rose in her chest, her lungs twisting and expanding to get air. The serenity she had been hanging onto with her fingernails all day was replaced with something else decidedly not harmonious.

“Girls, what’s going on?” Annette moved closer, her sharp eyes locking on Lily’s. Lily looked down. She could never hide her emotions well. “Lily, what’s wrong?”

“I—” Lily gasped, her lungs tightening painfully. “I—can’t—” Her breaths came in sharp, wheezing gasps now.

“Take your inhaler,” Evie said urgently, thrusting it at her. Lily fumbled for it, her sweaty palms slipping against the smooth plastic before taking a puff.

Allie and Amber surrounded her, shielding her. Her family, always watching out for her, always taking care of her.

How could she disappoint them? Embarrass them in front of their family and friends in Northfield? How could she let everyone down? Lily had spent her entire life smoothing things over, making sure that everyone was happy around her.

“You okay, honey?” Allie asked, concern etching her face.

Angela wedged herself into the circle of women and placed a firm hand on Lily’s back. “Let’s not keep Tucker waiting. The guests are ready.”

She pressed the bouquet of lilies into Lily’s hands and nudged her toward the door.

“Back off, Angela,” Amber snapped, stepping in front of Lily, her belly protruding like a brick wall. “Lily goes when she’s ready.”

Angela bristled, but Amber ignored her. “Some people have no class,” Angela said stiffly, with a militant set to her jaw. Her hair was the same expensive blond as her son’s, perfectly coiffed and sprayed into an unnatural stiffness.

“And some people have giant sticks shoved so far up their ass they forgot what class looks like,” Amber shot back. She turned around and patted Lily’s hand. “Take your time, Lil. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

The door to the vestibule opened, and Lily glimpsed the crowded church—family and friends, Madison included.

Savvie and Tessa went first with their flower baskets, scattering petals down the aisle. One by one, her bridal party followed while she watched numbly.

And then it was her turn.

The first strains of the wedding march swelled through the church, and she took a step forward, her hand clenched around her bouquet.

Annette appeared at her side, her hand slipping beneath Lily’s arm to guide her down the aisle. Lily didn’t dare glance at her. Annette’s calm, poised presence next to her was as unshakable as ever. Lily took a deep breath and tried to feel her knees.

They took a halting step forward. The crowd blurred in her periphery, the faces of her family and friends indistinct as her vision tunneled.

And then she saw him—Tucker, rocking back and forth on his heels beside Father O’Connell, hands clasped in front of him with the same pursed-lip expression as his mother on his face.

Each step closer felt heavier than the last. The unwieldy bouquet trembled in her hand.

Madison looked away as Lily walked past her, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Her final step brought her up to the altar, and she paused.

Could she forget the photo? Could she pretend the last five minutes had never happened and give up her dignity, her self-respect, and live with the betrayal—just to avoid the chaos that would follow?

Bitterness filled her as she stopped in front of Tucker.

“Babe, you look so beautiful,” Tucker said, reaching for her hands.

Her legs locked. Tucker’s face wavered in front of her, but this time it wasn’t from faintness.

It was rage.

How dare he? How dare he stand there, knowing what he’d done, and look at her as if nothing had changed?

Her voice, when it finally came, was clear and succinct in the utter silence of the chapel.

“Fuck. Off.”

Shocked gasps filled the sanctuary. Savvie and Tessa looked up at her with interest, but for once, Lily didn’t hang around to apologize.

She turned, her heels clicking against the tile as she headed toward the arched double doors.

“Take this!” Evie rushed forward and thrust the inhaler into her palm.

Lily stopped, her chest heaving as she looked at her sister. The fierce protectiveness in Evie’s eyes nearly undid her. “I can’t stay,” Lily said, her voice shaking.

“We’ll handle it,” Evie said firmly.

Lily’s eyes closed briefly, and then she turned, bursting through the stained-glass doors into the frigid November air.

The cold bit through her satin gown, sharp and bracing and somehow exhilarating at the same time.

Behind her, Savvie’s mischievous little voice echoed in the stunned chapel, “Fuck. Off.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Lily’s throat as she ran down the church steps, leaving behind everything she no longer wanted.

This was her beginning.