7. A Hundred and Fifty Witnesses
Chapter seven
A Hundred and Fifty Witnesses
The rehearsal dinner was a suffocating masterclass in forced elegance. One hundred and fifty people were crammed into the country club’s main event space. The air was incredibly thick with the cloying scent of roasted meat, expensive perfumes, and thousands of white roses.
Diane had insisted on going overboard. She believed anything less than total extravagance would insult Spencer’s family. The Novaks had flown in from Connecticut and occupied three long tables near the dance floor. They looked mildly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the spectacle.
I sat at the head table in my aquamarine silk dress. Sipping sparkling water with a wedge of lime, I bided my time. Once this was over, the Novaks would certainly not be the overwhelmed ones.
Underneath my chair, Tucker let out a contented sigh.
He wore a tiny tuxedo collar. Piper had thrown a fit three days ago, demanding her fur-nephew serve as the ring bearer.
But during the actual walkthrough, it became obvious that wrangling an eighty-pound dog while wearing a heavy gown was too difficult.
She’d tried to insist anyway, but I’d vetoed her quickly.
I refused to let her use my dog for her whims.
Defeated, Piper had immediately shoved his leash into my hand, and Tucker had been left alone. A perfect solution. I wanted Tucker exactly where he was. It saved me a trip back to the house later.
“The centerpieces are entirely too low,” Diane muttered, leaning over my shoulder. She wore a structured green gown that looked suited for a state dinner. Pointing a manicured finger at the table arrangements, she scowled. “People can see right over them. Don’t you think it lacks drama?”
“I think there will be plenty of drama, Mom,” I said smoothly.
Diane sighed, adjusting the strap of her clutch. “Well, it’s too late now. Just make sure the AV technician is ready for the childhood slideshow after dessert. Spencer’s mother keeps asking about the speeches.”
“I have the presentation right here,” I said. I tapped the small beaded purse resting next to my water glass. My phone and the HDMI adapter lay waiting inside.
“Good girl,” Diane said. She patted my shoulder absentmindedly before drifting away to terrorize a waiter about the dinner rolls.
I looked down the length of the head table.
Piper sat in the center, flanked by Spencer on her right and Ian on her left.
She wore a red siren dress that clung to her body.
Even the classic white gown was too plain for her.
She’d insisted on hot rod red, and Spencer hadn’t denied her.
She was glowing, vibrating with the center-of-attention energy she craved like oxygen.
Spencer held her hand, resting it openly on the white linen tablecloth. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were soft as he watched her talk. He was a man deeply, fundamentally in love with an illusion. “The idea of her,” Ian had said. Well, all of his ideas would soon align with the truth.
On her other side, Ian was holding court. Nursing a tumbler of scotch, he was telling a bridesmaid about a college golf tournament. He wore the custom-tailored charcoal suit I had bought him for Christmas two years ago.
Piper leaned forward to laugh at something the bridesmaid said. Her bare shoulder brushed against Ian’s chest. Ian didn’t step back to maintain a polite distance. Instead, he shifted his weight just a fraction, leaning into the contact.
Nobody else noticed it. But I saw the proprietary way his eyes flicked down to her skin. I saw the arrogant satisfaction settling in his jaw.
Enjoy it while it lasts, I thought. I took another slow sip of water, letting the ice numb my tongue. It won’t be worth what’s coming your way.
Dinner was served at exactly eight o’clock. The country club staff moved with synchronized precision, setting down porcelain bowls of steaming lobster bisque.
“This is fantastic,” Ian said, picking up his soup spoon. He looked my way and shot me an approving smile. “Gem, you really outdid yourself coordinating all this. I know Piper gave you a run for your money.”
“She did,” I agreed pleasantly.
“Well, I appreciate it,” he said. He reached across the space between us to squeeze my hand. “We all do.”
I didn’t pull away. His grip was firm and horribly familiar. I looked into his eyes, searching for a single shadow of a conscience. There was nothing. I was looking at a man who believed he had successfully played everyone in the room.
“Thanks, Ian,” I said. “Thanks for being so supportive of my family.”
If I’d expected him to falter now, I would’ve been disappointed. His smile only widened. “Of course, babe. It’s our family, right?”
Sociopathic asshole. Why had I ever married him?
The main courses arrived shortly after the soup bowls were cleared. The noise in the room rose to a cheerful din. Silverware clinked against fine china. Laughter floated over the low ambient music playing from the overhead speakers.
At nine-fifteen, from the back of the room, the event coordinator caught my eye. The harried-looking woman tapped her watch.
It was time.
The background music faded out. Spencer’s father went first. He was a distinguished patriarch who ran a boutique investment firm in Connecticut.
He stood at the microphone and gave a brief toast welcoming Piper to the family.
Spencer beamed. Piper dabbed at her dry eyes with a napkin, acting like the perfect would-be daughter-in-law.
When Mr. Novak sat down, a polite round of applause rippled through the room. The coordinator gestured to me.
I stood up, pushing my chair back. The wooden legs scraped softly against the thick carpet. Beneath the table, Tucker lifted his heavy head. I nudged him gently with the toe of my shoe, signaling him to stay put.
I picked up my clutch, my fingers gripping the cool beads. I walked the length of the head table. A hundred and fifty pairs of eyes shifted to watch me, but my pulse remained perfectly steady. The air in the room felt incredibly clear and sharp.
I reached the microphone. The massive projector screen had already been lowered from the ceiling right behind the podium.
Resting on the wooden stand was a thick HDMI cable. The AV technician had left it there for my promised slideshow.
I opened my clutch, pulled out my phone and the adapter, and set them down.
“Good evening, everyone,” I said. My voice carried through the massive speakers, bouncing cleanly off the walls. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Gemma. Piper’s older sister, and the Maid of Honor.”
A murmur of polite laughter greeted me. I looked out over the sea of faces. My mother sat near the front, waiting for a speech that would reflect well on her. Spencer smiled at me, his expression entirely encouraging.
Then I looked at Ian. He was leaning back in his chair, watching me with that familiar pride.
“Being an older sister is a unique job,” I continued. I wrapped my hands loosely around the edges of the podium. “You spend your whole life fixing things. You clean up their messes. You do it because you believe in loyalty.”
I paused, letting the word ring out over the tables.
“Loyalty is a funny thing,” I said. My tone shifted just slightly. I shed the warm cadence and dropped into something cooler and much harder. “We talk about it a lot at weddings. We talk about knowing exactly who the person sitting next to you truly is.”
Spencer nodded, reaching out to take Piper’s hand again. Piper smiled, but it was a tight expression. She could hear the shift in my tone, but she couldn’t decipher it yet.
“Spencer,” I said, looking directly at the groom. “You are a steady, honest man. When you commit to someone, you commit completely. You deserve a marriage built on the exact same foundation.”
Spencer gave me an appreciative nod. He didn’t understand what I meant, not yet. But he would within a minute.
“And Ian,” I said, turning my gaze to my husband.
Ian blinked. He was slightly surprised to be addressed in the middle of a toast. He sat up straighter, adjusting his suit jacket.
“You were right when we spoke earlier,” I said. “You’ve been a part of this family for five years. You and Piper have always shared a very… special bond.”
I picked up the HDMI cable from the podium.
“When Piper asked me to put together a presentation for tonight, I thought long and hard.” I plugged the cable into the white adapter. “I wanted something authentic. Something that showed Spencer exactly what he’s marrying, and showed everyone else exactly what I’ve been paying for.”
Diane frowned, leaning forward in her chair. “Gemma, what are you talking about?” she hissed softly.
I didn’t answer her. I plugged the adapter into the bottom of my phone.
I tapped the screen.
The projector flared, illuminating the entire ballroom in a blindingly harsh glare. Then, the video started.
It was the living room footage, blown up to the size of a billboard. The audio track exploded out of the country club’s surround sound system.
“Oh god, Ian. Right there.”
Piper’s disembodied moan rattled the glassware on the tables. The entire ballroom stopped breathing. A hundred and fifty people froze in absolute shock.
“Tell me this is better than Spencer,” the digital Ian groaned. The accompanying sound of wet friction was unmistakable, amplified to a deafening volume.
At the head table, Spencer Novak turned to stone. His hand, still resting over Piper’s on the white tablecloth, went completely rigid.
“Spencer doesn’t even know how to touch me. Don’t stop. Deeper.”
I didn’t watch the giant projection of my husband reaching his climax. I watched the actual groom. Spencer stared at the screen. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and completely uncomprehending. The betrayal was so massive his brain was temporarily rejecting the visual input.
Beside him, Piper let out a strangled, desperate noise. It was the sound of a trapped animal. She lunged forward, hitting the edge of the table and knocking her water glass over.