Two days before our wedding, I stood barefoot in the catering kitchen of a beautiful North Carolina estate, still wearing the white dress from our rehearsal dinner, and heard the man I was supposed to marry explain why he had chosen me.
finance a business with my money and build a future with Natalie through it.
My wedding was paying for my replacement.
Natalie began crying.
“I’m so sorry.”
My response surprised even me.
“I believe you’re sorry.”
I meant it.
Remorse didn’t make her innocent.
But it made her human.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I glanced through the window.
Below, workers assembled the arch where Ryan and I were supposed to exchange vows.
“I’m going to my wedding.”
“Claire—”
“Goodbye, Natalie.”
That evening, Ryan found me in the bridal suite.
He shut the door.
“You’ve been strange all day.”
“Wedding nerves.”
He laughed.
“Finally.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“I was starting to think nothing rattled you.”
“You like me rattled?”
“Sometimes.”
He stepped behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders.
Our reflections appeared together in the mirror.
He looked confident.
I looked composed.
“Tomorrow,” he
