Chapter 2

“For your wedding.”

I stared at my mother.

She smiled, but the expression slowly faded.

“Natalie?”

I couldn't answer.

My wedding.

No.

That wasn't possible.

I had been in my bedroom.

Ryan had been standing there.

Serena had—

I looked down at myself.

A white silk robe covered my body.

My hands flew to my chest.

No pain.

I pressed harder.

Nothing.

My heart was beating normally.

My legs—

I kicked away the blanket and stood so quickly the room tilted.

“Natalie!”

My mother grabbed my arm.

I could stand.

I could move.

I could breathe.

“What on earth is wrong with you?”

I stumbled toward the mirror.

The woman staring back at me wasn't thirty-six.

Her face wasn't pale from months of grief and sleepless nights. There were no dark circles beneath her eyes.

I touched my cheek.

Twenty-eight.

I was twenty-eight again.

“No.”

“Natalie, you're frightening me.”

I spun around.

My mother.

Eight years younger.

Before Dad got sick.

Before Daniel died.

Before everything.

I threw my arms around her.

She made a startled sound.

“Natalie?”

I held her tighter.

She smelled exactly the same.

The perfume I'd packed away after her funeral.

My knees nearly gave out.

“Mom.”

“What is it?”

I couldn't stop crying.

Her hands came around me.

“Sweetheart, what's happened?”

“You're alive.”

She pulled back.

“What?”

I stared at her face.

Alive.

My mother was alive.

If she was alive—

“Where's Dad?”

“At the hotel with your grandfather. Why?”

“Grandpa?”

“Yes.”

My grandfather.

I covered my mouth.

He had died six years ago.

A stroke, they'd said.

Except Serena's words wouldn't leave me.

Your father's illness. Daniel's accident. Even your grandfather—

“Daniel.”

“What?”

“Where is Daniel?”

“At the venue, presumably. Natalie, please sit down.”

I couldn't.

I grabbed my phone from the dressing table.

The date glowed on the screen.

September 14.

Eight years ago.

My wedding day.

My fingers shook so badly I almost dropped the phone.

This couldn't be real.

Maybe I hadn't woken up.

Maybe this was what dying felt like.

Maybe my mind had gone somewhere safe while my body shut down.

But my mother's hands were warm.

The marble beneath my bare feet was cold.

And when I pinched my arm, it hurt.

I was here.

Somehow, impossibly, I was here.

“Natalie?”

I looked at the wedding dress.

I remembered choosing it with my mother.

I remembered how happy I'd been.

I remembered standing at the altar in it while three hundred guests watched Ryan walk into our wedding with Serena on his arm.

Pregnant Serena.

Ryan had asked to speak with me privately.

I'd refused because I didn't want whispers.

So he'd explained everything in front of our families.

Serena was carrying his child.

It had happened during a brief separation Ryan and I had had months earlier.

He loved me, he'd said.

He still wanted to marry me.

But he would not abandon his child.

Serena would remain part of his life.

I had been humiliated.

Furious.

Heartbroken.

And I'd married him anyway.

Because my mother had begged me to think carefully before throwing away a ten-year relationship.

Because Ryan's mother had cried.

Because Dad had said whatever I chose, he would support me, but I'd seen the worry on his face.

Because I loved Ryan.

Because I believed him.

Because I was an idiot.

My phone rang.

I flinched.

RYAN.

His photograph filled the screen.

My husband.

My murderer.

I rejected the call.

Mom's eyebrows rose.

“Aren't you going to answer?”

“No.”

The phone rang again.

I declined it again.

Then a message appeared.

Ryan: We need to talk before the ceremony.

My stomach turned.

Those exact words.

He had sent them before.

I remembered.

I hadn't seen the message until after Serena arrived because I'd been getting dressed.

This time I stared at it.

The nightmare hadn't happened yet.

Ryan hadn't married me.

Grandpa was alive.

Dad was healthy.

Daniel—

Daniel.

I needed to see him.

I needed to stop his accident.

I needed to find out what happened to my father.

To Grandpa.

I needed—

The door opened.

“Natalie?”

I froze.

Daniel stood in the doorway.

For one terrible second, neither of us moved.

He looked exactly as I remembered him.

Tall. Dark hair slightly messy despite the tuxedo. Annoyed expression because he'd undoubtedly been sent to hurry me along.

Alive.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I crossed the room.

“Natalie—”

I hit him.

Not hard.

Just enough to make him blink.

“What the hell?”

Then I hugged him.

Daniel went rigid.

“What is happening?”

I buried my face against his chest.

He was warm.

Solid.

Alive.

“You're an idiot.”

“Okay?”

“I hate you.”

“Good to know.”

“Don't ever drive when I call you.”

There was a pause.

“What?”

I couldn't explain.

Not yet.

I pulled away and looked at him.

“I love you.”

Daniel stared at me.

Then at Mom.

“Is she drunk?”

“Apparently she's emotional.”

“I'm not emotional.”

“You just hit me and told me you love me.”

I almost laughed.

I had forgotten how irritating he was.

God, I'd missed him.

My phone buzzed again.

Another message from Ryan.

Ryan: I'm coming up.

Every trace of warmth disappeared.

No.

Not this time.

I wiped my face.

“Mom, I need five minutes alone.”

“Natalie—”

“Please.”

Something in my voice must have convinced her.

She nodded.

“Five minutes.”

Daniel pointed at me. “No more hitting.”

I nearly smiled.

They left.

I locked the door behind them.

Then I walked to the mirror.

My wedding dress waited behind me.

Eight years ago, I had thought wearing it meant the beginning of my life.

Now I knew better.

I picked up my phone.

Ryan had sent another message.

Ryan: There's something you need to know about Serena.

I stared at his name.

Then typed:

Natalie: I already know.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

Then someone knocked on my door.

“Natalie?”

Not Ryan.

My wedding planner.

Her voice sounded strained.

“There's... a situation downstairs.”

I already knew.

Still, I opened the door.

She stood there pale-faced.

“What happened?”

She swallowed.

“Ryan is here.”

I waited.

Her eyes dropped.

“But he isn't alone.”