1. Eliana #3
Laughter rippled through the room. The introductions came quickly after that.
Ashley. Brooke. Vanessa. Chloe. Their names blurred together almost as fast as the sparkle of their diamond earrings and designer heels.
One of them smiled politely as her gaze swept over my dress before settling on the simple pendant around my neck.
"I like your necklace."
I touched it instinctively. "It was my mom's."
For a brief second, the room grew quieter.
"Oh," she said softly.
Another bridesmaid recovered first with an easy smile. "Your look is very effortless."
I recognized the compliment for what it was and smiled anyway. "I'll take that as a good thing."
"It is," she replied, although her eyes drifted back to her own reflection.
Compared to the glittering jewelry surrounding me, I suddenly became very aware of how simple I looked. My tiny earrings suddenly felt microscopic. My comfortable heels seemed almost apologetic beside designer stilettos with red soles.
Before the awkwardness had a chance to settle, Camilla slipped her arm through mine. "Eliana writes novels."
Several heads turned. "Really?" Ashley asked. "What kind?"
"Romance," I replied.
"Published?"
"A few."
Camilla rolled her eyes dramatically. "She's being modest."
Heat crept into my cheeks. "Please stop advertising me, Cam. It's your wedding."
She giggled. "Never."
Across the room, Aunt Margaret watched us with a smile that reminded me so painfully of Mom's that I had to look away. For the first time since walking through those enormous gates, I stopped feeling like someone who'd wandered into the wrong party.
Maybe I didn't belong in this glamorous world.
But I belonged beside Camilla.
She'd made sure of that.
* * *
The ceremony began in the late afternoon, as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.
Guests slowly settled into their seats beneath an arch woven with white roses while the quartet's melody floated through the gardens like something carried on the wind.
Late March had dressed Richmond in that quiet kind of beauty that arrived before spring fully announced itself.
The trees still wore more bare branches than leaves, but tiny green buds had begun appearing everywhere, stubborn enough to promise warmer days were coming.
I took my place beside the other bridesmaids, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my dress as the music changed.
Then the groom turned around. Everything else seemed to disappear.
The photographers. The celebrities. The expensive flowers.
His smile came slowly, almost unconsciously, his eyes fixed on her as though there was no one else in the garden. It was tender, sweet, and completely unguarded, like he’d spent his whole life waiting for this exact moment.
Camilla laughed through her tears before she even reached the altar, and somehow he laughed too. The sound made half the guests smile before either of them had spoken a single vow.
I watched them exchange promises with trembling voices, and somewhere between I choose you and for as long as we're given, something inside me became painfully quiet.
Love looked so effortless from the outside.
Not easy. Never easy. Just certain.
The kind of certainty I'd only ever managed to give fictional people.
The officiant spoke about choosing each other every ordinary morning after the extraordinary ones had passed. Around me, guests wiped away tears, squeezed their partners' hands, and smiled through happy sighs.
My fingers found the pendant resting against my collarbone. I wondered if love would ever arrive quietly in my life like that. Not with fireworks. Not with grand speeches. Just someone who learned the language of my silence until they could answer questions I never asked aloud.
Would someone ever know me that way?
The daughter who still reached for her mother’s necklace whenever life became too loud. The woman who kept writing happy endings because she wasn’t entirely convinced real life handed them out so generously.
The breeze wandered through the gardens, carrying the scent of damp earth and budding flowers. The branches above rustled together, and for one strange heartbeat, it sounded almost like someone was whispering my name.
My gaze drifted toward the edge of the estate. Someone stood beneath a distant tree.
Or at least…I thought someone did.
The setting sun burned behind the figure, swallowing every recognizable feature until only a silhouette remained. Broad shoulders. Stillness. A presence that somehow seemed separate from the celebration unfolding around him.
I couldn't tell whether he was watching the ceremony.
Or looking somewhere else entirely.
Or whether he'd ever existed in the first place.
Another breeze swept across the gardens, sending loose strands of hair into my face. I tucked them behind my ear and glanced back toward the tree.
The space beneath it was empty now. A small chill settled beneath my skin despite the lingering warmth of the evening. Maybe someone had simply walked away. Or maybe I'd just imagined him.
"Eliana." Camilla's voice pulled me back just as applause burst through the gardens. "I'm married!"
“Yes! You are! Congratulations, my lovely, Cam!”
She laughed as I hugged her, holding up her left hand to admire the ring catching the last of the sunlight.
The celebration erupted almost immediately. Music grew louder. The second batch of champagne appeared from nowhere.
Someone started crying again. Then came the photographs. Hundreds of them. Family portraits. Wedding party portraits. Couple portraits. Magazine-worthy portraits.
"One more," the photographer kept insisting with relentless optimism.
"I've heard those exact words eighteen times," I muttered.
Camilla snorted. By the twentieth pose, my cheeks had officially declared mutiny. The newlyweds were eventually whisked away toward the gardens for golden-hour photographs, leaving the rest of us with a rare moment to breathe.
Aunt Margaret caught my arm before I wandered too far. “You look exhausted.”
“I’ve smiled so much my face has filed an official complaint,” I joked.
She laughed, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “The bridesmaids’ SUV is parked near the west entrance. Go sit there for a few minutes if you need some peace and quiet. The driver will be taking you guys home later.”
"I love you. Thank you. I'm literally running on coffee."
“I know, sweetheart. Don’t mention it,” she said with a smile.
I escaped before another photographer could recruit me into another family portrait. The parking area sat beneath strings of warm lights woven between the trees, and rows of black SUVs waited quietly while laughter drifted faintly from the reception behind me.
I found what I assumed was the bridesmaids' SUV and opened the passenger door. The leather seat looked dangerously inviting.
"I'll close my eyes for two minutes."
Famous last words.
The warmth trapped inside the car wrapped around me like a blanket after hours of standing in heels. I leaned back, loosened my grip on my bouquet, and closed my eyes.
Just enough to rest. Just enough to survive the drive home. The next thing I knew?—
A violent burst of white light exploded through the windows.
I jerked upright. Another flash. Then another. Someone slammed a hand against the glass. Voices crashed together outside.
"Adrian!"
"Who's the woman?"
"Are you two dating?"
"Look this way!"
"What is she doing in Adrian Ashford's car?"
My pulse stumbled. I stared through the windshield. Every window surrounding me was covered with cameras. Flashes fired relentlessly through the glass. Dozens of reporters shouted over one another. And I had absolutely no idea why they were outside the SUV.
What did I get myself into?