Three Hundred Ways to Prove You Love Me

Madeline Hart smiled at me from the middle of our wedding reception.

"I'm sorry, Caleb. I can't keep lying to myself.

"The truth is, the man I love is Trent. He's the one I want to marry."

My parents' faces changed. They were both academics, quiet and proud, and they had gone their whole lives without a public scene. Now their son's wedding was the worst humiliation either of them had ever suffered.

Mom spoke first. "Madeline, what is this supposed to mean?

"Is this young man one of your groomsmen? I've got nothing against you kids and your games, but there's a limit. This is your wedding to Caleb."

My lips had gone white. I caught her hand, close to begging.

"Madeline, this is our wedding. Don't turn it into another test, please.

"My parents aren't young. They can't take this."

She pulled her hand out of mine.

"What test? I don't know what you're talking about.

"Trent and I are in love. Saying it now is better for both of us."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to my mother.

"Eleanor, Trent isn't a groomsman. He's today's groom."

The screen behind us lit up. It was supposed to be photos of Madeline and me. The man in them was Trent.

The first picture was the two of them kissing in a bar.

That was when I remembered him. He was the man from the bar the first time Madeline played the testing game.

They had never stopped seeing each other. And today he was standing here as the groom.

The guests were talking now, and some of them had their phones up, happy to have a show.

"She's calling off the wedding? And she brought another man here to do it?"

"The Morgans will never live this down."

"All that talk about being respectable, and their son's wife gets taken by some guy from a bar."

Mom pressed a hand to her chest. Dad's face went red.

"Caleb," he said under his breath. "What is going on?

"Your mother can't take this kind of stress. If that man is the groom, where does that leave us?"

I watched the photos go by on the screen, one after another, and went cold all over.

Trent slid an arm around Madeline's waist.

"Want to guess who Madeline was with last night, Caleb?

"You're the smart one. You'll work it out."

That was when I saw the marks on her neck.

Three years into the relationship, Madeline had told me she was afraid that once I had her, I'd stop treasuring her. So I respected what she wanted, and I never touched her.

And on the night before our wedding, she was in another man's bed.

My eyes burned. I closed my fist and swung at Trent, and I hit him hard.

He hadn't expected me to swing. He froze for a second, hit back, and had the better of me almost at once. Fists, knees, blood at the corner of my mouth. None of it was worth a fraction of what my chest was doing.

When he got tired of it, he spat at my feet.

"Look at that. A nobody like you, taking a swing at me."

Madeline looked at Trent like he was the one who'd been hurt. Then she slapped me.

It wasn't as hard as Trent's punches. It didn't need to be. That slap broke every last thing I still felt for her.