Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
“Millie.”
Reading Dean’s text, I hear my sister’s voice behind me, a second before I feel her hand close around my elbow, anchoring me in place.
Turning, while I slip my phone back into the pocket of my dress, I see her.
She looks nervous. A little pale. “What is it?” I feel my brow crumple with concern.
She’s pregnant—at least I think she is. She hasn’t made any big announcements yet, but she’s been looking peaked the last few times I’ve seen her and she refused wine with dinner on Friday night.
Same with the champagne at our last dress fitting a few weeks ago. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She gives me a wane smile. “I’m fine… I just—I need to talk to you for a minute.” She gives my elbow a tug, trying to pull me toward a heavy brocade curtain and into the nearby hidden alcove behind it. “In private.”
“Can this wait?” The wedding coordinator’s already on her way to signal the string quartette that it’s time to start. “We’re—”
“No.” Gwen’s mouth flattens and she shakes her head. “It can’t.” She gives me another tug. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
I sigh. “Okay.” Signaling our father who’s waiting for me, a few feet away, I let her pull me into the alcove. As soon as we’re alone, I give her a slightly exasperated smile. “What is it?”
Letting go of my arm, Gwen takes a small step back on a sigh of her own but she doesn’t say anything. From the front of the church, the first strains of Ode to Joy float through the air.
“Gwen, whatever this is—”
“You can’t do this,” she blurts out, blue eyes yanked wide on a jerky head shake. “You can’t marry Allister.”
When I hear her say it, my stomach clenches.
Up until now, I’ve never considered that there were people who knew about Paige and Allister’s affair but now…
“Why?” My sister and I have never been particularly close but if she confesses that she knew about them all along and didn’t tell me, this might be the thing that breaks me.
“Because.” Mouth still flat, Gwen takes a half-step toward me. “I think he’s having an affair.”
“Why would you think that?” I ask, my heart pounding wildly.
“I saw him.” Shooting a quick look at the curtain separating us from the rest of the church, she shakes her head.
“I mean, I think it was him… Dalton and I met some friends after dinner, Friday night,” she whispers, while looking around.
Satisfied we’re still alone, she gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I saw Allister on the sidewalk outside the Waldorf. I watched him go in. I know he couldn’t have been meeting you because you were at the Hawthorne, so—” She shakes her head.
“I tried calling you all weekend but you wouldn’t take my calls and I’ve been trying to get you alone all morning…
” She gives me another smile. This one almost apologetic.
“Dalton said there has to be a logical explanation. That I’m being crazy and should mind my own business but you are my business…
” Blanching slightly, Gwen shakes her head.
“I know I haven’t always been a good sister to you—shit, I’ve been downright mean sometimes, but I’d never forgive myself if—”
She didn’t know.
Gwen didn’t know.
And when she suspected, she tried to tell me. She did tell me—even though her husband warned her against it.
Reaching for her, I pull my sister into an impulsive hug that surprises us both.
I’m not a hugger. Impulsivity has never been my thing but the relief I feel, knowing that when push came to shove, she had my back, means more to me than I thought it would.
Holding her tight, I let out a shaky breath.
“I know,” I whisper in her ear. It takes Gwen a second to recognize what I’m saying.
What it means. When she does, I feel her go rigid against me.
“You know.” Pulling back, my sister gives me a wide-eyed look. “What do you mean, you know?” She says it like she hopes she’s misunderstanding me somehow. “I don’t—” Frowning, Gwen shakes her head. “Wait. You know Allister is having an affair?”
“Yes.” Nodding my head, I give her a faint smile. “I know Allister is having an affair.”
Her frown slips into a scowl. “And you’re still marrying him?” Her tone lifts an octave with every word. “You can’t be—”
“Girls.” Our father appears in the alcove’s doorway, my bridal bouquet in his hand. “We’re on,” he says on a worried chuckle. It would be completely on brand for the two of us to start bickering, minutes before my wedding. “Whatever this is, it’s going to have to wait until the reception.”
Giving her another squeeze, I lean in to press a quick, barely there kiss to my sister’s cheek. “I love you, Gwennie,” I whisper as I pull back. “Thank you.” Before she can argue, I let go and turn away from her completely.
“We’re ready.” Giving our father a bright smile, I reach for the bouquet. Handing it over, he holds the curtain open for us while we step back into the atrium before letting it fall back into place.
Waiting for Gwen to take her place beside Dalton in front of us in the wedding procession, I ignore the quick, worried glances she keeps shooting at me over her shoulder.
When Dalton leans into her and hisses something in her ear, she very loudly and plainly snaps at him to shut up and mind his own business.
Lifting a hand, I use it to stifle the laughter that suddenly pushes its way up from my belly and for the first time since this whole thing started, I start to think that everything is going to be okay.
Dividing a look between us, my father finally looks down at me with a puzzled smile. “Do I even want to know what that was all about?”
“Just sister stuff,” I tell him while tucking my free hand into the crook of his elbow.
The puzzlement on his face clouds a bit with concern. “So everything is okay?”
Tucking my hand into the crook of his tuxedoed elbow, I nod. “Everything’s fine,” I lie, giving him the serene, unflappable Millie smile that’s been my armor for as long as I can remember.
For a moment, he looks like he wants to argue with me.
Like maybe he knows I’m lying, and it almost breaks me.
Almost has me dragging him into the vestibule he just pulled Gwen and me out of so I can tell him everything, but before I can crack and ruin everything, Paige turns from her place ahead of me in the procession to give me a sugary smile while she mouths are you ready?
I feel those insane laughter bubbles popping against the back of my throat again.
Over her shoulder, I watch the wedding coordinator shoo my little sister and her chastised husband through the doorway. Into the sanctuary and the full view of the church’s three-hundred guest list.
Giving her my practiced smile, I nod my head while my fingers dig into the sleeve of my father’s jacket.
It isn’t until Paige and her escort disappear through the double doors leading from the vestibule into the main sanctuary and my father and I step into their place that I realize how uncertain I actually am.
Are you sure about this, Millie? There are easier, more dignified ways of handling this. Ways that don’t include setting fire to the bridge you’re presently standing on.
Directly to my left is the front entrance to the church.
The limo is waiting at the curb, per my instructions.
I don’t have to do this. I can just run.
Tell my father I’m sorry, let go of his arm and run.
Through the doors and down the steps. Into the back of the waiting limo and away—it would take less than a minute and I could be gone.
All of this would be behind me.
Stepping into the doorway, we’re held in queue by the wedding coordinator who watches Paige glide flawlessly down the aisle with a practiced, critical eye while her team of assistants fluff and straighten the heavily beaded, cathedral-length train attached to my couture, custom-made wedding gown.
Shit.
I suddenly see myself tripping on my own dress while I make my getaway, tumbling down the aisle like a sparkly snowball, rolling through hell.
“Take it off.”
Behind me, the team of dress fluffers freeze while their boss gives me the stink eye.
She makes fifteen hundred dollars an hour to ensure every wedding she oversees is the picture of social media perfection and an abandoned, twenty-foot, jewel-encrusted, slipper satin train was not what she envisioned. “Pardon?”
Before I can argue or let myself be bullied into keeping it, my father reaches for the hand tucked into the crook of his elbow and smooths my frantically clawing fingers. “You heard my daughter—take it off.” He narrows his gaze slightly when the wedding coordinator hesitates. “Now.”
Within seconds I’m free, the team of dress fluffers working with the speed and precision of a Nascar pit crew to unhook the train attached to my dress and hustle it away.
“Better?” My father asks quietly, his hand still smoothed over mine.
In front of me, Paige passes the row of back pews, directly in front of Dean who’s seated himself on the aisle like he’s been thinking about making a fast getaway too. Catching my gaze, he gives me one of his asshole smirks before flicking a look at the back of Paige’s head.
Want me to trip her?
Hand going lax beneath my father’s, I feel my chest expand and my shoulders relax. “Yes.” I look at my father, offering him a relieved smile, right before we step into the sanctuary. “Better.”