Chapter 4

Three days before the wedding, Hiram opened the closet for a shirt and paused.

"Where are your clothes? Why's this side half empty?"

I kept sketching in the living room. "At the dry cleaner's."

He grabbed a jacket without another thought, then turned back on his way out.

"Oh, give Chloe a shout-out in your wedding speech. She just got back and barely knows anyone. Make her feel welcome."

I put down my pen and looked at him. "Why would I give her a special shout-out at our wedding?"

Hiram turned, annoyed. "She's my friend. Can't you be nice?"

"You chased her for four years and never got over her. I'm your fiancée. Why should our wedding be about her?"

His voice went cold. "Emma Erven, this again? How many times do I have to say it? I don't feel that way about Chloe. She's just a friend."

"Then tell her not to come."

"I already invited her. How am I supposed to uninvite her?"

He checked his watch. "I don't have time for this. Chloe's art show opens the day after tomorrow. I need to check on the venue."

The door shut. I sat there as his footsteps faded down the hall.

No one cared more about her opening than he did.

I hadn't even tried on a wedding dress.

At three, the doorbell rang.

A delivery guy brought in two huge bouquets of lilies in full bloom. Their scent filled the living room.

My throat tightened. I took two steps back.

The card read, [Good luck with your art show. Hiram.]

I stared at it for three seconds. My nose was already itching, and a red rash had spread across my skin.

I'd told him about my lily allergy our first year together. He'd even stopped a coworker from giving me some.

He'd remembered then.

Now he'd had two bouquets delivered to our apartment.

I put on a mask, bagged the lilies and vases, and took them to the dumpster.

By the time I got back, the rash had spread from my arms to my neck. My skin burned and itched.

I took two loratadine tablets and lay back on the couch, waiting for them to work.

When the rash eased, I went into the bedroom.

Only a few things were left in my closet.

I packed them into two suitcases and booked one last move.

By nine, everything was at my new place: a tiny room I'd rented for $800 a month, forty minutes from Oakwood Place.

It had only a bed and a closet. Still, I felt more at ease on that hard mattress.

Hiram called.

"Where are you? You're not home."

"At a friend's. I'm staying tonight."

He paused. "What's your problem now? The wedding's in three days. How does it look, you running off?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to hang out with a friend."

"Emma, stop sulking. Come home and get ready for the wedding. Don't make me say it again."

Like marrying him was some gift he was giving me.

"Okay."

That was all I said.

I hung up, and then I blocked his calls and texts. He couldn't reach me anymore.

I set my phone beside my pillow and stared at the yellowed ceiling light.

When he was trying to win me over, he'd said, "Emma, I'll never let you face anything alone."

Now that promise was in the dumpster, right beside those two bouquets of lilies.

***

Third-Person POV

The Wren's ballroom was packed on the wedding day.

Hiram arrived in a custom suit, Chloe on his arm. In her pale pink dress, she looked like she was hosting.

He scanned the room. No Emma.

The bridal suite was empty, the vanity lights off.

He frowned and called her. The call wouldn't go through.

Figuring she was sulking, he had Tyler try. His call went straight to voicemail, too.

Embarrassed, Hiram asked the emcee to entertain the guests and buy him some time.

Just then, the hotel manager hurried over with a document.

"Mr. Lanford, I need to confirm something with you."

Hiram glanced at him impatiently. "What? The wedding's about to start."

The manager held out a cancellation receipt, the date and details clearly printed.

"Mr. Lanford, Ms. Erven canceled the wedding a week ago. The deposit was nonrefundable under your contract."