Chapter 4 - The Tears Dry and the Plan Begins
My phone buzzed aggressively against the tiled floor where I had dropped it. I scrambled to pick it up, seeing my assistant’s name flashing across the screen. I swiped and brought it to my ear, trying desperately to steady my voice.
“Meredith? Where are you?” my assistant asked, sounding frantic. “The wedding coordinator has been looking everywhere for you! The bridal party is lining up, and they need the altar arrangements checked immediately.”
I looked at my reflection in the restroom mirror. My eyes were swollen and bloodshot, my mascara was smeared in dark streaks across my cheeks, and my hair was a tangled mess. I looked like a woman who had just survived a catastrophe—because I had.
“Meredith? Are you okay?” my assistant pressed, hearing my silence. “You sound terrible. Do you want me to drive over and take over for you?”
For a second, the temptation to pack up my tools, run out to my car, and drive away from this nightmare was overwhelming. I wanted to curl up in my bed and pretend none of this was real. But then I thought of Adrian—smiling, laughing, putting on a tuxedo for another woman while I had spent ninety days weeping over an empty box.
“No,” I whispered, my voice hardening into something cold and jagged.
“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “You don't sound sure.”
“I’m entirely sure,” I replied, wiping the remaining tears from my face with a paper towel and picking up my florist badge. “I’m finishing this job.”
“Okay… if you say so. Call me if you need anything.”
I hung up, splashed freezing cold water over my face, and took a deep, grounding breath. The grief that had paralyzed me for three months evaporated in a single second, replaced by a cold, calculating fury. Adrian thought he could fake his death, abandon me without a backward glance, and walk down the aisle with a new bride while his mother played the role of the grieving accomplice.
They thought I was weak. They thought I would cower in a corner and weep.
May you like
They were catastrophically wrong.
I walked out of the restroom, picked up my clipboard, and headed straight back to the grand ballroom where the guests were already taking their seats. As I adjusted the final floral arrangements at the base of the altar, I looked out over the crowd. I didn't hide, and I didn't run. Instead, a slow, dangerous smile crept onto my lips. I knew exactly who the bride was, I knew every single vendor in this building, and I knew how to put on a show that neither Adrian nor his mother would ever forget.
