Chapter 4 - The Photograph That Told the Wrong Story
The reception took place in a converted greenhouse behind the chapel.
There were strings of warm lights overhead and rosemary tucked into the place settings. Ethan’s father had spent the previous afternoon helping arrange tables while insisting he knew nothing about decorating.
For the first half hour, I let myself be happy.
We took photographs.
We ate food I barely tasted.
Ethan’s best friend gave a speech that began badly, improved briefly, and ended with everyone laughing.
Then Brooke appeared beside me holding her phone.
“Before you see this somewhere else.”
My stomach tightened.
A photograph of Paige and me had already reached social media.
It showed the moment before we entered the side room.
I was smiling.
Paige was wearing white.
The caption belonged to our cousin Melissa.
When your sister shows up dressed like the bride, but the bride already knows something you don’t.
Hundreds of people had reacted.
There were comments calling Paige desperate.
Unstable.
Pathetic.
Someone had enlarged her face and drawn a circle around it.
I stared at the screen.
This was the version of the day I had imagined in my angriest moments.
Everyone finally seeing her.
Everyone finally agreeing with me.
It felt nothing like victory.
“Ask Melissa to take it down,” I said.
Brooke blinked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“She did wear the dress.”
“I know.”
“And she wanted—”
“I know what she wanted.”
I looked across the room.
Paige stood near the water station, staring at her phone.
Her shoulders were rigid beneath Mom’s scarf.
I handed Brooke’s phone back.
“I’m not giving strangers my sister because she hurt me.”
Brooke studied me.
Then she nodded.
“I’ll handle Melissa.”
I walked toward Paige.
She saw me coming and put her phone facedown.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I asked her to delete it.”
Paige looked up.
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t a public punishment.”
She swallowed.
“I would’ve deserved it.”
“You deserved to be stopped. You deserved to be told the truth. That doesn’t mean you deserve whatever strangers decide to do with your face.”
For a moment, she looked younger than I remembered.
“Thank you.”
I nodded.
Then Aunt Vivian joined us.
“There you are.”
Her smile moved between us.
“I hope that little interruption hasn’t spoiled things.”
“It hasn’t,” I said.
“Your mother would have wanted a joyful day.”
Paige’s hand tightened around her glass.
“What did you tell me about the house?”
Vivian’s expression barely changed.
“Sweetheart, not now.”
“What did you tell me?”
I touched Paige’s arm.
Not to silence her.
To remind her where we were.
“We can discuss it tomorrow,” I said. “All three of us.”
Vivian gave a small laugh.
“Tomorrow? You’re leaving for your honeymoon.”
“Monday.”
She looked at me.
For the first time, I saw calculation behind the concern.
“There’s nothing urgent. Probate takes time.”
“Then bringing the will should be easy.”
Her smile vanished.
Only briefly.
But I saw it.
“The attorney has everything.”
“Please send us the attorney’s contact information.”
“Clara.”
It was the voice adults used when they expected the child in you to step forward and obey.
I stayed where I was.
“Email will be fine.”
Vivian turned toward Paige.
“Your sister is tired. This has been emotional.”
Paige looked at her for a long time.
Then she said, “You told me Mom chose Clara because I couldn’t be trusted with anything important.”
The words seemed to strip the warmth from the room around us.
Vivian lowered her voice.
“I was trying to prepare you.”
“For what?”
“For disappointment.”
Paige shook her head.
“No. You were deciding where I should aim it.”
My aunt looked between us again.
This time, she seemed less certain about which sister would give way first.
“We’ll talk when everyone is calmer,” she said.
Then she walked away.
I released a breath.
Paige looked at me.
“Did she tell you I wanted to sell everything?”
“Yes.”
“I said I couldn’t go into the house without crying.”
I stared at her.
“She said you wanted your share quickly.”
“I asked whether there was money for therapy.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Around us, people clinked glasses and called for another kiss.
Ethan caught my eye from across the room.
I lifted one finger.
One minute.
He nodded.
Paige looked down at Mom’s letter.
“She knew we weren’t getting the same story.”
“Maybe she suspected.”
“Why didn’t she tell us?”
The question hurt.
Because the only person who could answer was gone.
I looked toward the dance floor.
“We can ask what she left behind. We can’t ask her to come back and explain.”
Paige nodded.
Then she straightened.
“Go dance with your husband.”
I hesitated.
She gave a tired smile.
“I’m serious. I’ve taken enough of today.”
So I went.
Ethan held out his hand.
When I stepped into his arms, he asked, “What do you need?”
“For the next three minutes?”
“Whatever you want.”
May you like
I rested my cheek against his shoulder.
“Just this.”
