Chapter 5

I was fairly certain the message Zara had seen wasn't meant for her, and it wasn’t for me either. Then who was it for? And whatever the answer turned out to be, I needed something that didn’t come from Zara’s mouth or my own suspicion.

My whole morning was spent circling these thoughts, and they followed me all the way to my father’s house.

“You’re quiet today.”

I looked up. My dad was watching me from across the living room, his glasses low on his nose.

“Just tired,” I said.

He studied me for a moment as if trying to read my thoughts straight off my face. On the coffee table between us sat samples of invitation cards, fabric swatches, and a folder Jenna had put together for the wedding. My wedding. I still couldn't believe how calm I was, still pushing forward with the plans.

But I didn’t want to step back yet. I would keep giving Alex the illusion that we were still getting married. If he thought I still trusted him, he’d have no reason to change his behavior around me, and I needed to be calm about it. If I confronted him without enough proof, he'd deny everything, and I’d be left with nothing but Zara’s word and my own suspicions.

“Your mother would have been impossible to deal with by now,” Dad said, picking up an invitation card.

I smiled faintly. “She’d have changed the design three times.”

“Five,” he said, and we both laughed, though his expression softened almost immediately after.

I missed her so much it still caught me off guard sometimes. She’d have been all over this wedding, and my dad hadn’t quite been himself since she passed four years ago. I could swear he’d lost some piece of himself that never came back, even if I couldn’t prove it.

“She would have loved it,” I said, my smile fading.

“I wish she were here.” Dad's gaze dropped to the card in his hand, his thumb tracing its edge before he let out a quiet breath.

I lowered my gaze. “So do I.”

Silence filled the room for a moment before he reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. I’ll handle whatever needs handling. Your mother would have taken over the whole wedding if she were here, so I suppose I can at least try to do half her job.”

“You’re already doing too much.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Besides, I have to make sure my daughter has the wedding she deserves. And that gentleman of yours seems determined to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

My stomach dropped. “Alex?”

He nodded. “ He’s been very involved. Keep telling me he didn’t want to stress you out with the planning, since you get stressed so easily.”

I forced a smile. If only you knew, Dad. You’d kill him.

“He’s a good man,” Dad added. The words landed heavier than they should have.

I said nothing.

“He treats you well, and he’s ambitious too, planning big for both your futures, and I think his endorsement is a very good idea.”

I felt a flash of heat in my stomach, and smiled faintly, because it seemed like everyone knew about the endorsement except me.

Zara. The lunch. The message. The endorsement. Alex moving into my apartment right around the time he moved out of hers. I found myself trying to connect things that might not even be connected, and I made myself stop.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t waiting for Alex to slip anymore. I was waiting for him to hand me something I could actually prove.

I cleared my throat. “He told you about the endorsement?”

“Yes, and it has a lot of potential,” Dad said.

I looked at him, momentarily speechless.

“He wants me to present the proposal to some people on the board, some of my friends in business. There’s a chance they’ll invest,”

“Are you going to do it?” I leaned forward.

“I’m considering it.”

My heart gave a strange, painful twist.

He kept going, completely unaware of what was happening behind my silence. “He’s got a good proposal. I think this endorsement could open several doors for him.”

“Oh God,” I muttered, sinking back into my chair.

“I trust your judgement,” I said, lifting my head.

Dad smiled. “You’re my daughter. You don’t have to worry about these things. I’ll make sure everything is handled.”

I nodded, but as I drove home later that evening, his words followed me. I’ll make sure everything is handled. I wish someone could handle this for me too.

When I got home, the apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag onto the couch, and almost immediately my phone buzzed

A message from Alex.

[Hey, love. I won’t be coming home tonight. Something came up with a client. I’ll explain later. Don’t wait up for me. I love you, babe.]

My eyes started to swell with tears as I read it. A client. My first thought was Zara. My second was to call him and ask exactly who. I didn’t. I read the message again and made myself sit with it, reminding myself: facts not assumptions.

I typed back:

[Okay. What time do you think you’ll be back tomorrow?]

I looked at it before sending. An innocent question, though not entirely innocent, since I wanted to see whether the story would hold up tomorrow or change.

I dropped my phone. I hated him. At least I wanted to. Beneath the anger was something worse, something closer to confusion. How could someone I’d loved this long become a stranger while I was still standing beside him?

The weight of everything was crushing down on me. I was exhausted from pretending I was fine. It was becoming too much to carry alone. So I picked up my phone and called Jenna.

She answered on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Jenna.” My throat tightened, another wave of tears threatening.

“What happened?” She asked immediately.

“I just...” My throat closed further. “I really need someone to talk to right now.”

There was a pause. “Oh my God, Eloise, I’m in a bit of a tight spot right now. “How bad is it?”

“Uhm.. Don’t worry about it, it’s not that bad,” I said, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

“Are you sure?” She inquired.

“Yes.”

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll come over. I promise.”

“Ok Jenna.”

“Are you okay?” She asked again.

I looked at Alex’s message again. “No.”

Her voice softened. “Tomorrow okay?”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too Jenna.”

We hung up, and I felt a small measure of relief, just from knowing someone knew I wasn’t okay.

Then a notification appeared. Jenna Parker posted a new photo. I almost ignored it. Almost. But my thumb moved before I’d decided anything.

The photo opened. Jenna sat in a restaurant, wearing a sequined blue dress, smiling brightly at the camera.

A smile tugged at my lips, the first thing other than Alex to occupy my mind all night.

Another date, I thought, studying the picture. Who was the new man?

I studied it for a second, then scrolled past, then stopped and scrolled back. Something on the table had caught my eye. A glass cup sat beside Jenna’s hand. Its surface caught the reflection of another hand. A watch on the person’s wrist, faint in the reflection but there.

My breath stopped for a split second. No. I zoomed in again. I knew that watch. It was exactly like the custom-made watch I had bought Alex for his birthday last year, the one I’d chosen myself, the dark face, the metal detailing, the mark near the clasp. All the details I’d picked out myself.

I kept my eyes on the reflection until my vision blurred. That can’t be. I’d spent the last few days learning that assumptions could hurt as much as lies, so I zoomed again to be sure. My hand started to shake and my eyes drifted to the timestamp.

Posted twenty minutes ago.

My eyes moved back to the photograph. Jenna was smiling, and somewhere on the other side of that camera was the man who had just told me he wasn’t coming home tonight.

My heart thudded against my ribs. This was the first thing I had that didn’t come from Zara’s mouth or Alex’s stories. I’d seen the watch myself. I’d identified it myself.

I looked at it one more time. That was definitely Alex’s.