He Offered Me a Fake Wedding, I Married His Groomsman

"I'm sorry you came all this way." "The wedding is canceled. Please enjoy the food if you'd like. I'll have someone contact you about anything left here." A woman in the second row stands. "Audrey, honey—" I can't bear sympathy yet. I put the microphone down. Adrian walks beside me through the service door. The moment it closes, I can't get enough air. I pull at the neckline of the dress. "Slow down," he says. "I'm trying." My fingers tingle. The corridor tilts. Adrian catches me before I hit the wall. The hotel calls for medical help. Later, in a curtained examination bay, a nurse asks whether there is anyone she should contact. I look at my phone. Nine years of photographs. My mother's number pinned near the top. A family group chat with Serena's picture as the icon. "No." Adrian stands near the curtain. "You can put mine down." The nurse looks at me. I nod. He gives her his number, then turns away while she checks on me. Nobody calls him my fiancé. Nobody assumes he belongs beside the bed. He waits until I ask him to sit. The clinician explains that I was breathing too quickly, but they want to make sure I'm steady before I leave. I lie back. My face still stings where the rose hit me. Adrian notices me touching it. "Do you want some ice?" "No. Thank you." He sets a cup of water within reach. For several minutes, he says nothing. I look at his loosened tie. "I'm sorry." "For what?" "Pulling you up there." "You asked." "You didn't have to answer." "I didn't mind." I look away. "My family will probably tell you I do things like that." "What things?" "Make scenes. Overreact." "I was there, Audrey." It's the first time all day someone has said my name without sounding disappointed. When I'm cleared to leave, Adrian goes to bring the car around. I stop at the restroom. On the way back, I hear my mother's voice through an open room door. "One more bite." I stop. Serena is propped against the pillows. My mother holds a container of soup. Luke is unfolding a blanket over Serena's feet. Grant sits closest to her. His jacket is off. His shirt sleeves are rolled up. He presses his palm against her stomach. "Did she move again?" Serena smiles. "Just now." I grip the papers in my hand. Nine months ago, he sat beside my hospital bed and told me we would try again. I had lost our pregnancy. I remember waking in the night and reaching for him. Sometimes he was there. Sometimes the chair was empty. He told me he went home to shower. A nurse steps into Serena's room with discharge instructions. Grant stands to listen. Serena has been kept for observation after the crash. There are bruises, but they're sending her home. They discuss the baby coming in the next few weeks. My mother interrupts twice to ask whether Serena should rest. Grant asks what number to call if anything changes. He writes it down. I remember him losing my follow-up instructions. I remember telling him it was fine. Everything was always fine if I said it quickly enough. Serena sees me over his shoulder. "Audrey?" Grant turns. His gaze drops to the papers in my hand. "What are you doing here?" I almost tell him. I almost say I couldn't breathe after he left me in front of everyone. Then Serena shifts in bed, and his attention returns to her. I keep walking. In the restroom, I lock myself in a stall. When I come out, Serena is at the sink. She looks at the papers I'm holding. "Are you sick?" "The wedding is canceled." Her fingers stop beneath the water. "I heard." "You can stop pretending you don't know why." She turns off the tap. "I didn't ask them to do that." "You called him." "I was scared." "You knew where he was." She reaches for a paper towel. For the first time, she doesn't look ashamed. She looks tired of having to act ashamed. Her eyes travel over the dress. "It fits you better than I expected." I don't speak. "They had to let it out for me." She dries her hands carefully. "Grant said you wouldn't notice."

I look at the zipper reflected in the mirror. Vanessa stood behind me at the last fitting. She pulled the fabric tight and told the seamstress I'd lost weight. All three of them knew. Serena drops the paper towel into the bin. "Don't look at me like that. You're the one who insisted on a wedding." "He asked me to marry him." "And he was going to give you the wedding." "You really think that makes this better?" She lifts one shoulder. "You've always needed the big gesture." I step toward the door. Serena moves in front of it. "The dress wasn't the only thing, you know." I stop. "The day you came for the fitting? Grant wasn't trying on suits for two hours." My stomach turns. I remember knocking. Him calling that he'd be out in a minute. Vanessa taking me downstairs for champagne. Serena watches me remember. Then she smiles. "You can hate me if you want. It won't change who he's marrying." The door opens. Grant stands outside. "Serena? Your mother's looking for you." Her face changes at once. "Grant." He looks from her to me. "What happened?" "Nothing," she says quickly. "Audrey's upset." He turns toward me. "Not here." I laugh. "Where would you prefer? The wedding worked well for all of you." His eyes narrow. "Watch your tone." Serena touches her stomach. Grant is beside her immediately. "What is it?" "I think I stood too long." He puts an arm around her. My mother appears behind him. One look at Serena is enough. "What did you say to her?" "Ask her." "Don't you dare." "She's been sleeping with Grant." My mother's face doesn't change. That hurts more than surprise would have. "Lower your voice." "You knew." "People can hear you." "I was in the hospital losing his child." Serena looks away. Grant holds her closer. My mother steps toward me. "Enough." "No." The slap turns my face. For a moment, I hear only the ringing in my ear. Grant says, "Catherine." Not loudly. Not as if anything needs to happen now. My mother points toward the exit. "If you can't be kind to your sister, go home." I look at her. "She isn't the one who needs you right now." "You're standing here. You're fine." I press my palm against my cheek. Behind her, Serena leans into Grant. I turn and walk away. Adrian is waiting at the entrance. When he sees my face, he gets out of the car. "Who did that?" "My mother." He looks toward the doors. I catch his sleeve. "Please. I just want to leave." He opens the passenger door. "Where would you feel safe tonight?" I don't have an answer. Not my mother's house. Not the apartment Grant and I share. "I can book a room." "I'm at the hotel," he says. "We can get you your own." I nod. He takes me back through a side entrance. Upstairs, he leaves me outside my room with a bag from the hotel shop. "I guessed the sizes." "Thank you." He writes his room number on the back of a receipt. Then he leaves. I shower. I put on clothes that no one bought for Serena. An hour later, my phone lights up. A message from her. Since you're so determined to misunderstand. There's an audio file attached. I play it. Grant's voice fills the quiet room. "We'll take care of the paperwork tomorrow." "What about Audrey?" "I've told her she can still have the ceremony." "But after the baby?" "She'll adjust." Serena makes a small, doubtful sound. "You think she'll help?" "She wanted a child. She can help with this one." My hand goes cold around the phone. "What if she says no?" "She won't. Once we're all settled, she'll be grateful to be included." The recording ends. I sit without moving. He knows how much I wanted the baby we lost. Now he's using that grief to make me useful to them. A new message appears. From him. I've asked the hotel to hold the ballroom for tomorrow evening. Serena and I will handle the legal part in the morning. We'll come straight over afterward. Then: Please don't make me regret giving you this. I save both messages. I back up the recording. Then I call the planner. "Don't make any arrangements in my name." "Grant said—" "I'm telling you myself. I'm not marrying him." When I hang up, I call Adrian. "Are you still awake?" "Yes." "Could we talk?" He meets me in the hotel lounge. I take the chair opposite him. "Earlier, I asked you to marry me." "You did." "Would you actually consider it?" "I would marry you. But not because you need an answer for Grant." "Then why?" "Because I'd like the chance to build something with you." "You barely know me." "Less than I'd like. More than you think." I wait. "We went to the same school for a while," he says. "I used my mother's surname then." Something stirs in my memory. A quiet boy. A different face. Before I can place it, he continues. "Grant and I met later, in college. I've been overseas for years. He asked me to stand with him." "And you didn't know?" "No." His answer is immediate. "I wouldn't have stood there if I had." I look down at my hands. "I can't promise I'll fall in love with you." "I'm not asking you to pretend." "I'm not moving from his rules to yours." "I wouldn't want you to." He leans forward. "You can say no tomorrow. You can say no after we leave this table. I'll still help you get somewhere safe." For the first time that day, someone offers me something without telling me what I owe in return. I take a breath. Before we leave, I ask about his work, his family, and what he expects from a marriage. He answers without rushing me. "If I still want this in the morning, I'll call." "I'll answer."