Chapter 2 ~ A lie

SLOANE 

I don’t know what to say. My mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. He’s already turning away before I can try again, already nodding at someone, already slipping into the crowd like the conversation never happened.

And just like that, I stop trying.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. I smile when people look. I laugh when someone tells a joke. I sip champagne, I can barely taste. I sit through speeches I don’t hear and dance with relatives I barely recognize, and yet, my new husband is nowhere near me.

After what seems like forever, it's time for us to leave and be alone. That excitement inside me slowly starts to grow all over again. 

I'm standing by the door when I hear footsteps. My mouth curves into a smile as I turn, hoping to give this night a chance. 

“You are in so much trouble-” My words get caught in my throat because behind me isn't my husband. It's Anderson, his driver. 

Anderson has been working for Ian since I knew him. He has sandy brown hair and brown eyes with slight wrinkles in his eyes telling me he's much older than I anticipate.

“I’ll drive you, Mrs. Quinn,” he says, opening the back door.

I pause. “Where’s Ian?”

“He said he’ll join you later, ma’am.”

My stomach turns, but I nod and get in. Normally, I would have thrown a fit, but his words from earlier are drilling my skull so much that I simply comply with such an absurd moment. 

The ride is quiet, and the night outside looks beautiful.

 But I feel nothing.

“Please let me know if you'll need anything. “ Anderson says as he holds the door open for me.

I mumble a thank you. Or think that I do as I walk into the luxurious suite prepared for us. The bed is covered in rose petals. The air smells like vanilla, soft jasmine, and the balcony doors are open, letting in a warm breeze.

I sigh as I sit in the nearby chair so I don't mess the bed and wait for Ian. I had changed my dress to a less heavy one, but all the same, I just want to get naked and take a shower.

Grabbing my phone from the bed, I try to call Ian, but it goes straight to voicemail. 

I sit and wait a little longer.

Minutes stretch into hours.

I check my phone once, twice, ten times, and then I eventually give into texting him.

Me: [Where are you? Are you okay?]

Husband: [I'm fine]

I stare at the text as if that will make him appear before me. Surely he can't leave me to spend our wedding night alone, would he?

Me: [What time are you coming?]

Bubbles pop up, showing he's typing. They stop and restart, making me anxious with each second that passes. 

Husband: [Something came up, I'll see you later.]

Relief washes over me. 

Maybe he had a bad day at the hospital. That was why he was sulky. Ian is the current hospital director and the best surgeon to grace the earth.

How could I have been so inconsiderate? Maybe he truly had a bad day. 

Guilt grips me as I make a mental reminder to make it up to him. 

I peel out of my gown and step into the shower, the water hot against my skin. I take longer than I normally do so I can pass time while I wait for Ian to come.

When I eventually come out, wrapped in the silk robe the hotel laid out for me, I glance at the door again. 

It's still closed. 

Disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach and grows like cancer spreading all the way to my heart.

It's been six hours. 

I sit at the edge of the bed, then lie back. 

But sleep doesn’t come. 

I only have that awful gnawing feeling inside me that whispers

“You’re alone.”

You’re his wife, and he didn’t choose you tonight.

A bride abandoned on her wedding night.

……..

Soft rays of sunlight reach my eyes as a soft knock echoes through the suite.

I jolt upright, barely remembering when I fell asleep and that it's already morning. 

My heart stutters at the sound, thinking my husband is finally here.

I hurry to the door, tightening the belt of my robe as I fling it open.

But it’s not Ian.

It’s Anderson making my stomach sink in disappointment.

 What a way to start a day. 

Dressed in his black suit with no tie, composed and calm as ever.

“Good morning, Mrs. Quinn,” he says with a polite nod. “Are you ready to go?”

I blink, disoriented. “Go where?”

“Back home, ma’am.”

I glance over my shoulder, back at the untouched bed. The petals are still perfect and undisturbed because I slept on the couch.

 The bitter reminder stings.

“What about Ian…where is he?”

Anderson hesitates. 

“He’s at the hospital, ma’am.”

Panic clutches my chest. “What? What happened? Is he okay?”

 “He’s fine, ma’am. He’s just there for work.”

I stare at him, confused, the panic twisting now into something colder.

 “Work? At the hospital? Again? Wasn't he there last night?”

Anderson looks taken aback but quickly masks the reaction. Unfortunately for him, I already saw it. 

“He wasn't at the hospital last night, was he?”

“Mr. Quinn instructed me to take you back home.”

I take a step forward. “That’s not what I asked.”

He doesn’t speak. His lips press into a thin line, his hands clasped in front of him,

“My apologies if I've misled you, Mrs Quinn. But Mr. Quinn was where he told you he was.”

“You hesitated.” My eyes narrow at him. “You’re lying.”