During their first dance, Keeley discreetly checked Facebook on the venue's Wi-Fi. An annoying tabloid ad appeared, despite not following any gossip pages. Then, a headline stopped her scrolling: "Aaron Hale Proposes at Lacy Knighton's Party In Front of Everyone." She immediately shut off her phone, stunned.
He had lied. What had she expected? His words—"I only have one wife"—were meaningless.
The rest of the wedding crawled by. She remained on autopilot until everyone started leaving.
Later, at a pier, she removed her shoes, letting the cold ocean water soak her feet and dress. Overlooking the San Francisco Bay, she felt utterly empty. Impulsively, she texted the man who'd been on her mind all weekend: "Congrats on your engagement. You'll probably have fun forcing Lacy into submission for the rest of her life."
His reply was immediate: "I'm not engaged, especially not to that leech."
"Nice try, idiot. Dozens of people saw him propose."
"I saw the articles. I'm really not engaged. Aiden and I faked it because Lacy was going to announce her engagement to me without my consent. We beat her to it."
How was Aiden relevant? "If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."
"I'm not lying. Aiden was dressed as the woman I proposed to. He left on a month-long vacation this morning as compensation. You can ask him."
This meant either he was telling the truth, or he'd colluded with Aiden. She texted, "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"No, I think my life has spiraled out of control to the point of sounding like the plot of a really bad novel."
She snorted, still skeptical. "Why would you do something like that?"
"Lacy needed public punishment for thinking she could control me. The look on her face was amazing, but I'm not sure it was worth the hassle. I wish I could escape the country, too."
"Why can't you? You have money."
"I also have work commitments. I'm staging a coup, remember? No vacations until that's over."
She replied sarcastically, "What a shame."
She continued to soak her feet until his next message: "What are you doing right now?"
"Staring dramatically out at the ocean like a depressed person in a movie," she replied wryly.
He called. "Why are you depressed?" he demanded, a hint of worry in his voice.
She couldn't say "Because of you," so she opted for partial truth: "I hate weddings."
"Aren't weddings supposed to be happy occasions?"
"Not when you don't believe in what they stand for," she said sourly.
"Ah," he said after a pause. "I suppose that's because of me, isn't it."
"Someone's surprisingly self-aware."
"That tends to happen when you have a lot of time to think. I know I wronged you terribly and I'll never be able to make up for that."
"Then why are you still trying?" she asked, frustrated.
"Anything is better than nothing," he said softly. "Just because I know you'll never forgive me doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to make things right. If nothing else, I'll make sure you're taken care of whenever you need it, like I should have done all along."
Tears welled up. Why was he being nice? "I really don't get you. You don't have to feel guilty; I'm fine."
She wasn't fine, but she wouldn't tell him. Her story would sound delusional. The website mention is removed.
"You think this is because of guilt?" he asked coldly.
"Duh. What else would it be?"
"because I love you, you idiot. I want you to be happy and healthy and able to achieve your dreams."
Her brain short-circuited. He wanted her to achieve her dreams? They'd known each other for twelve and a half years in their previous life, but he'd never cared about her aspirations.
"You don't know anything about my dreams," she said derisively.
"I know you're becoming a geneticist because you want to find a cure for cystic fibrosis in memory of your little brother. I didn't know about it beforebut as soon as I found out, I've done my best to support you in it."
She had no idea how he knew, but she couldn't deny his recent support: his genuine interest in her research, the "brain food" he sent. She'd missed it. The website mention is removed.