Chapter 4
The next morning, Alexander called and told me to meet them at a bridal boutique downtown at ten.
I asked my mother to take me at nine thirty.
She helped me into the passenger seat, then stood outside the car door for a long moment.
"If he hurts you," she said quietly, "I will not forgive him. And I will not forgive you for letting him."
I squeezed her hand.
We arrived twenty minutes early.
I waited in the car with the heat on, watching the boutique's frosted glass doors, counting my own breaths to stay calm.
Ten o'clock passed.
Then eleven.
Then noon.
Alexander did not come.
I called him twice. Both times, he declined the call.
My mother brought me water and crackers from the café across the street. I could see the fury building behind her eyes, but she said nothing. She simply sat beside me and waited.
At one fifteen, a black SUV finally pulled up to the curb.
Alexander stepped out first.
Then Meredith.
She was glowing. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair slightly tousled. She caught me looking and smiled like a cat who had just finished a bowl of cream.
"Sorry we're late, Sophia." She stretched her arms above her head. "Alexander kept me up all night. I literally could not move this morning."
My fingers curled against my coat.
Alexander opened my door without looking at me.
"Get out. We don't have all day."
The boutique was three floors. No elevator.
I stared at the staircase and felt my bones ache in anticipation.
"Is there a lift?" I asked the receptionist quietly.
Before she could answer, Alexander cut in.
"It's two flights of stairs, Sophia. Don't be dramatic."
Meredith tilted her head.
"Are you injured or something?"
"Old fracture," I said. "It acts up sometimes."
It was not a fracture.
It was the bone deterioration from three marrow extractions eating me from the inside out.
But they did not need to know that.
I climbed those stairs.
Every step was a negotiation with my own body. By the time I reached the second floor, my vision had gone spotty at the edges. I gripped the railing and breathed through my mouth until the world stopped tilting.
Neither of them waited for me.
When I finally entered the showroom, Meredith was already trying on a gown. White silk, plunging back, cathedral train. She looked stunning.
Alexander stood behind her, adjusting her veil.
His hands were gentle.
His eyes were soft.
The same hands that used to trace patterns on my back while I fell asleep. The same eyes that used to look at me like I was the only real thing in the world.
"What do you think?" Meredith asked me, spinning slowly. "Be honest."
I swallowed the ache in my throat and smiled.
"It's beautiful. But the neckline might photograph a bit harsh under venue lighting. The sweetheart cut on the third rack might suit you better."
Meredith raised an eyebrow, then looked at Alexander.
"She does know your taste."
Something dark crossed his face.
"Just pick a dress," he said.
For the next two hours, I helped Meredith try on gowns while Alexander sat on a velvet bench and scrolled through his phone.
He did not look at me once.
Not until Meredith disappeared into the fitting room and we were left alone.
The silence between us was unbearable.
Then he spoke without looking up from his phone.
"You look like hell."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You've lost at least thirty pounds since I last saw you. Your hands are shaking. And you've been favoring your left side all day like someone hit you with a car." He still did not look up. "Whatever you're doing to yourself, stop. I don't need the guilt."
For one dangerous moment, hope flared in my chest.
He had noticed.
He was paying attention.
Then he added, his voice colder than before, "The last thing I need is people thinking I still care about a woman who stole from my family and spread her legs for someone else."
The hope died as quickly as it had come.
I pressed my lips together.
"I'll try to look less inconvenient for you," I said softly.
He finally looked up.
Something sharp flickered in his eyes.
But before he could speak, Meredith swept out in a new gown, and the moment shattered.
I asked my mother to take me at nine thirty.
She helped me into the passenger seat, then stood outside the car door for a long moment.
"If he hurts you," she said quietly, "I will not forgive him. And I will not forgive you for letting him."
I squeezed her hand.
We arrived twenty minutes early.
I waited in the car with the heat on, watching the boutique's frosted glass doors, counting my own breaths to stay calm.
Ten o'clock passed.
Then eleven.
Then noon.
Alexander did not come.
I called him twice. Both times, he declined the call.
My mother brought me water and crackers from the café across the street. I could see the fury building behind her eyes, but she said nothing. She simply sat beside me and waited.
At one fifteen, a black SUV finally pulled up to the curb.
Alexander stepped out first.
Then Meredith.
She was glowing. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair slightly tousled. She caught me looking and smiled like a cat who had just finished a bowl of cream.
"Sorry we're late, Sophia." She stretched her arms above her head. "Alexander kept me up all night. I literally could not move this morning."
My fingers curled against my coat.
Alexander opened my door without looking at me.
"Get out. We don't have all day."
The boutique was three floors. No elevator.
I stared at the staircase and felt my bones ache in anticipation.
"Is there a lift?" I asked the receptionist quietly.
Before she could answer, Alexander cut in.
"It's two flights of stairs, Sophia. Don't be dramatic."
Meredith tilted her head.
"Are you injured or something?"
"Old fracture," I said. "It acts up sometimes."
It was not a fracture.
It was the bone deterioration from three marrow extractions eating me from the inside out.
But they did not need to know that.
I climbed those stairs.
Every step was a negotiation with my own body. By the time I reached the second floor, my vision had gone spotty at the edges. I gripped the railing and breathed through my mouth until the world stopped tilting.
Neither of them waited for me.
When I finally entered the showroom, Meredith was already trying on a gown. White silk, plunging back, cathedral train. She looked stunning.
Alexander stood behind her, adjusting her veil.
His hands were gentle.
His eyes were soft.
The same hands that used to trace patterns on my back while I fell asleep. The same eyes that used to look at me like I was the only real thing in the world.
"What do you think?" Meredith asked me, spinning slowly. "Be honest."
I swallowed the ache in my throat and smiled.
"It's beautiful. But the neckline might photograph a bit harsh under venue lighting. The sweetheart cut on the third rack might suit you better."
Meredith raised an eyebrow, then looked at Alexander.
"She does know your taste."
Something dark crossed his face.
"Just pick a dress," he said.
For the next two hours, I helped Meredith try on gowns while Alexander sat on a velvet bench and scrolled through his phone.
He did not look at me once.
Not until Meredith disappeared into the fitting room and we were left alone.
The silence between us was unbearable.
Then he spoke without looking up from his phone.
"You look like hell."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You've lost at least thirty pounds since I last saw you. Your hands are shaking. And you've been favoring your left side all day like someone hit you with a car." He still did not look up. "Whatever you're doing to yourself, stop. I don't need the guilt."
For one dangerous moment, hope flared in my chest.
He had noticed.
He was paying attention.
Then he added, his voice colder than before, "The last thing I need is people thinking I still care about a woman who stole from my family and spread her legs for someone else."
The hope died as quickly as it had come.
I pressed my lips together.
"I'll try to look less inconvenient for you," I said softly.
He finally looked up.
Something sharp flickered in his eyes.
But before he could speak, Meredith swept out in a new gown, and the moment shattered.