Chapter 28 Marcus
Marcus
A few hours crawl by, every minute thick with waiting. The ballroom has taken on a jittery edge—the guests milling, glancing at their watches, whispering behind their hands. Even the flowers seem to wilt under the pressure.
We keep scanning the doors, hoping for some sign of the PI, but nothing. Not a call, not a text. Just silence. My stomach is twisted into a knot.
Mia comes back to join us for lunch, slipping quietly into a seat.
Tyler tries to lighten the mood, making some joke about the hotel’s dry chicken, but Mia only offers a small, distracted smile.
Her eyes are distant, her shoulders set in a way that makes her seem older, tired.
Something’s shifted in her, something I can’t name.
When Alexander tells her what happened with the marriage license—how it slid under the ice machine and we couldn’t get it back—she just shrugs, picking at her food. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she says softly. “Just let it go.”
That’s not like her at all. I catch Tyler’s eye, and even he looks unsettled. Alexander leans in, asking gently if she’s alright, but Mia just shakes her head, lips pressed tight. She won’t meet any of our eyes.
I can’t shake the worry settling in my chest. All morning, Mia has been the one holding us together, the one with fire and fight. Now she just seems hollowed out, like she’s run out of reasons to keep pushing.
I want to reach for her, pull her close, promise that things will get better. But right now, I don’t know if any of us believe that.
Tyler pokes at his salad, glancing between us. “When are we supposed to coordinate the walk down the aisle, anyway? Are we just supposed to wing it?”
I sigh. “I have no idea. We never made it to the rehearsal dinner last night. I don’t even know who’s supposed to be standing where.”
Before any of us can puzzle it out, Jarrod strides over, his posture stiff as ever. There’s a fresh carnation pinned to his lapel, the kind the person giving away the bride usually wears. He’s clutching a folded program, glancing down at us like we’re the ones causing trouble.
“Haven’t you heard?” he says, his voice a little too loud for comfort. “We’re not doing a formal walk down the aisle anymore. Looks like Sarah is done with you sorry lot.”
I frown, eyeing the flower on his jacket. “You’re doing it? You’re the one walking Sarah down?”
Jarrod smirks, clearly pleased with himself, but it sours the moment he sees Mia sitting with us. His eyes narrow, his jaw tightens. “You still haven’t learned, have you?” he tosses at her as he walks away, not waiting for an answer.
Mia watches him go, confusion knitting her brows. “Since when does he care so much about Jason?”
Alexander shakes his head. “He says he’s just supporting Sarah’s choice, but honestly, it feels like he’s more invested in making sure Jason goes through with it than in her happiness.”
Tyler fills her in, his voice low so no one else can hear. “He thinks you’re ‘acting out’ because you’re still hung up on Jason. He actually said that to my face—like he can’t imagine there’s any other reason for trying to stop the wedding.”
Mia’s eyes widen with disbelief. “Seriously?”
I nod, meeting her gaze. “It’s all backwards, Mia. But he’s convinced he’s doing the right thing.”
Mia shakes her head. “I can’t believe my dad. Well, actually, this is exactly what he would do in a situation like this.”
I check my watch for the hundredth time, jaw tight. Where’s the goddamn PI? Every minute that passes feels like a door closing.
Across the room, one of the bridesmaids raises her voice, calling out to the guests, “The wedding will commence in twenty minutes!” There’s a ripple of excitement and nerves, the mood suddenly charged.
“Oh crap,” Tyler mutters under his breath.
I glance over just in time to see Mia half-crouching under the table, as if she might actually disappear. But she isn’t quick enough—the bridesmaid spots her and strides over, eyebrows arched. “Mia, what are you doing here? You’re part of the wedding party. Come on, let’s move!”
Mia hesitates, eyes darting to me. I can tell something happened between her and Sarah, something heavy. I push my chair back. “I’ll go with her,” I say, voice steady, daring the bridesmaid to object. She just gives me a look—half confusion, half judgment—before turning on her heel.
Mia waits until we’re a few steps away before whispering, “Thanks, Marcus.” Her voice wobbles. “Sarah asked me if I took the license. Jason called me every name you can imagine. She just…stood there. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen.”
My gut twists. “You don’t have to do this, Mia. We can leave. I’ll go with you right now.”
She shakes her head, wiping quickly at her eyes. “No. Sarah hasn’t told anyone what happened, obviously. I don’t want to make a scene or embarrass her more. She’s still the bride. Let her have today, even if it kills me.”
I shake my head, unable to hide the ache in my chest. “You love her so much. When will she see that?”
Mia’s eyes are swimming with tears. She squeezes my hand, her voice barely a whisper. “Marcus, I’m leaving right after the ceremony. I can’t stay. Not after this.”
“No, Mia. You can’t,” I say, my voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let him win.”
She looks away, shaking her head. “It’s over, Marcus. He already has.”
The words hit me like a punch, and before I can argue, she looks up at me, eyes red but clear. “Please don’t tell the others yet. I don’t want Tyler or Alexander to try and talk me out of it. I just…need to get through this day on my own terms.”
I nod, swallowing the urge to protest, to promise her things will be better. Instead, I just pull her into a quick hug, holding her close for a heartbeat longer than usual.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I whisper. “But for what it’s worth, I hope you’ll change your mind.”
She offers a weak smile, then turns as the bridesmaid calls for the wedding party. I watch her walk away, my heart aching, wishing there was something—anything—I could do to keep her here.
We reach the waiting area behind the aisle. Sarah is standing with the others, her jaw set, her face closed off the moment she sees us together. She doesn’t say anything. I see the strain in her eyes, but she just turns away as the first notes of the wedding music drift through the air.
Guests settle in, whispering and adjusting in their chairs, but my mind is miles away.
I check my watch again, barely seeing the time. My phone’s screen is empty—no missed calls, no new messages. My heart sinks as I dial the PI’s number one more time, pressing the phone to my ear, hoping for anything. It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. Nothing.
Up front, Jarrod takes Sarah’s arm. They move into position, Sarah’s dress trailing behind her, face unreadable. The bridesmaids start down the aisle, one by one, moving in slow, choreographed steps. I hang back near the door, eyes scanning the lobby, the windows, every face that passes.
Where the fuck are you? I thumb out a text with the wedding location, a last-ditch effort, but I know it’s pointless. If he was coming, he’d be here by now.
It hits me all at once—the PI must have found nothing. Or worse, maybe he never even tried. Maybe he took the money and ran, like so many others before. For the first time since all of this started, I feel the hope drain out of me completely.
It’s really over.
I lean against the wall, staring at the entrance, wishing for a miracle that isn’t coming. Inside the chapel, the music swells, and Sarah takes her first steps down the aisle, walking straight toward a future she can’t see.
I stay by the door.
I can’t bring myself to watch. I don’t know where Tyler or Alexander ended up. The music swells behind me, polite and ceremonial, and all I can think about is how badly I failed. I was supposed to protect her.
My niece—sweet, stubborn, too loyal for her own good. I think of my sister, the way she used to smile at family dinners, how she would’ve wanted better for her daughter than this mess. What would she think of me now, standing here useless while her girl walks toward a lie?
The minister’s voice carries through the room. Calm. Measured. Official. The words blur together until they settle into something final.
My chest tightens.
I turn slightly away from the doorway, already planning my exit. I won’t watch this happen. I can’t.
That’s when a woman steps up beside me.
She’s in her late thirties, maybe early forties. Dark hair pulled back too tightly, a crease between her brows like she’s been holding herself together for a long time. She’s dressed simply, no wedding attire, no attempt to blend in.
She looks at me. “Is this Jason’s wedding?”
I nod, barely trusting my voice.
She lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Just resolve.
Behind us, the minister’s voice rises, clear and carrying. “If anyone here knows of any lawful reason why these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I start to walk away. I can’t hear this. I won’t survive hearing this.
Then, behind me, loud enough to stop the room cold, the woman says, “I object.”
I freeze.
The music falters. Chairs scrape. A collective gasp ripples through the guests.
I turn slowly.
The woman has stepped forward now, standing straight, shoulders back, eyes locked on Jason. And suddenly it hits me. I have seen her before.
The minister looks stunned. “Excuse me, ma’am. Who are you?”
The woman lifts her chin, eyes blazing, and steps forward. “His wife.”