Chương 4
Rebecca’s eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
Daniel remembered that evening.
A restaurant near his apartment. Lily had ordered macaroni and cheese and then refused to eat it because parsley had been sprinkled over the top. Rebecca had laughed softly, moved the parsley away with a fork, and asked Lily whether her father was joining them later.
At the time Daniel had thought she was being considerate.
Now he saw the careful neutrality in the question.
“You looked my niece in the face,” he said.
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“I never wanted her involved.”
Aaron pushed away from the bookcase.
“She became involved when you agreed to marry her uncle.”
Rebecca turned.
“You do not get to lecture me about involving Lily.”
“I’m not.”
“You handed her the envelope.”
“I know.”
“And where were you? Hiding outside?”
“Yes.”
The admission halted her.
Aaron looked at Daniel.
“I was hiding outside.”
His voice was flat.
“I had this whole thing in my head where I would get here early, find you, hand you the envelope, tell you what happened, and leave. Then I saw Mom’s car. I saw cousins I haven’t talked to in years. I saw Lily in that dress.”
He rubbed his face.
“I froze.”
Daniel did not soften.
“You still gave it to her.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Aaron’s mouth worked before he answered.
“Because she asked why I was there.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I told her I had something you needed before the wedding.”
“And she said?”
“She said she could give it to you.”
“So you let her.”
“Yes.”
Daniel pushed away from the desk.
“Get out.”
Aaron nodded once.
“Okay.”
Rebecca stood too.
“Daniel, if he goes, I need—”
“You’re going too.”
Her face lost color.
“Please.”
“I’m not deciding my life in a chapel office.”
“I am still the same person you woke up next to yesterday.”
“No.”
She inhaled sharply.
Daniel held up a hand.
“I’m not saying that because of the marriage.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying yesterday I thought I knew what you had told me about your life. Today I know there were entire rooms in it you kept locked.”
Rebecca stared at him.
He heard himself becoming too polished, too controlled, the version of Daniel who could end a business negotiation without raising his voice and make the other person feel as though the decision had been made by gravity.
He stopped.
“I need you to leave.”
She picked up nothing.
Not the photograph.
Not the ring.
Not the fallen bouquet outside.
Hannah opened the door.
Rebecca walked past her.
Before Hannah followed, Daniel said, “Stay.”
Rebecca turned.
“Hannah.”
Hannah looked miserable.
Daniel almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“I need to know what you knew.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“This is insane.”
“What’s insane,” Daniel said, “is that my wedding assistant knew more about my bride’s marriage than I did.”
“I am not your wedding assistant,” Hannah said quietly. “I work for Rebecca.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Fair.”
Rebecca stared at her friend.
“Are you coming?”
Hannah swallowed.
“In a minute.”
Rebecca’s expression hardened.
Then she left.
Aaron followed several seconds later.
Daniel listened to their footsteps separate in the chapel.
For the first time that morning, he was alone with someone who was not family.
Hannah leaned against the closed door.
“She thought she could fix it.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“That sentence has never made anyone feel better.”
“I know.”
“When did she tell you?”
“February.”
“Why?”
“Because Aaron emailed her at work.”
Daniel looked at her.
“At work?”
“He said he had found out the divorce had never been finalized and needed to speak with her.”
“What did you do?”
“I manage her calendar. I saw it because I filter messages from outside contacts.”
“Did you answer him?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“Not at first.”
Daniel waited.
Hannah stared at the floor.
“I told her she had to tell you.”
“And?”
“She said she would.”
“When?”
“After she understood what was happening.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“And six weeks ago?”
“Aaron contacted her again. He attached a copy of the marriage certificate and the dismissal notice from the old divorce case.”
Daniel’s fingers tightened.
“He sent proof.”
“Yes.”
“Before today.”
“Yes.”
“How long before today?”
“Forty-three days.”
The precision hurt more than vagueness would have.
Daniel looked at the desk.
“Did you know she had filed something new?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think it would be finished before today?”
“She did.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Hannah was quiet.
“No.”
Daniel rubbed his thumb over the edge of his white pocket square.
His father had taught him when he was eleven that anger became dangerous when it convinced you speed was the same thing as certainty.
At the time his father had been talking about a nail gun.
Daniel wished the lesson had stayed that simple.
“Why did you help her?”
Hannah looked up.
“I kept thinking she was about to tell you.”
“That’s not why.”
“No.”
She exhaled.
“Because she’s my friend. Because I watched what happened to her after Aaron. Because she worked three jobs for a while. Because she used to get panicky when unknown numbers called. Because I believed that whatever the legal paperwork said, that marriage had been over for years.”
Daniel nodded.
“And me?”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“I didn’t think enough about you.”
It was the first answer all morning that sounded complete.
Daniel opened the door.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not making it prettier.”
When he returned to the chapel, almost everyone was gone.
The rows of white roses tied to the pews looked ridiculous now, too formal for the aftermath they surrounded. Someone had stepped on a program near the aisle. One of Rebecca’s white roses had broken from the fallen bouquet and lay several feet from the others.
Carol sat in the front pew with Lily.
Lily’s legs did not reach the floor.
She had a paper cup of water in both hands.
May you like
Aaron stood alone near the entrance.
Daniel walked to his mother first.
