Part 5
A guest near the back shifted in their chair. Another leaned close to someone beside them. The whispered sound was almost invisible, but Gabriel heard it.
Amelie did too.
She turned toward the ceremony arch.
Then she faced the gathered guests.
“There’s been an emergency,” she said.
Her voice was calm, but it carried.
The guests went still.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “We need some privacy.”
No one moved immediately.
Then the wedding planner, who had been hovering near the edge of the courtyard with a face full of carefully controlled panic, began guiding people toward the villa. The guests rose in small groups. Some offered awkward glances. Some pressed their lips together and looked away. No one came close enough to ask questions.
Within minutes, the courtyard emptied.
The chairs remained.
The flowers remained.
The string lights continued glowing over the empty aisle.
Gabriel stood in the center of it all with Poppy in his arms.
Amelie walked toward the arch and stopped beneath it.
For a second, Gabriel thought she might begin crying.
Instead, she reached up and touched one of the pale peach roses near her shoulder. The petals were soft and perfect. A little too perfect.
“I spent months choosing those,” she said.
Gabriel did not know what to say.
Poppy looked at the flowers.
“They’re pretty.”
“Yes,” Amelie said.
Her voice broke on the last word.
Poppy’s face tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
Amelie turned around quickly.
“No.”
The child flinched anyway.
Amelie softened her voice.
“No, Poppy. You don’t have to be sorry for being here.”
Poppy looked down.
“My mommy said I would ruin the wedding.”
Gabriel felt the statement hit Amelie.
He saw it in the way she gripped the edge of her satin skirt.
“What exactly did your mommy say?” he asked.
Poppy shook her head.
“She didn’t say that.”
“Then who did?”
“The lady.”
“What lady?”
“The one with flowers.”
The warm wind moved through the courtyard. The string lights above them swayed.
Amelie’s eyes went to the door that led back into the corridor.
“She wasn’t wearing a name tag?” Gabriel asked.
Poppy shook her head.
“Did she work here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say why she brought you to the wedding?”
The girl looked at Gabriel.
“She said you had to see me before you said yes.”
The courtyard seemed to contract around them.
Amelie was standing beneath the flowers.
Gabriel held Poppy close.
The phrase hung in the air: before you said yes.
He thought about the vows he had been prepared to make. The notebook he had written in for three nights, crossing out words that sounded too polished. He had wanted to tell Amelie that she taught him how to stay when things got complicated. He had wanted to tell her that he trusted her more than he trusted himself sometimes.
Now the words existed somewhere in his jacket pocket, folded beside his heart.
Poppy’s hand pressed against his chest.
“Were you going to say yes?” she asked.
Gabriel looked at Amelie.
“Yes,” he said.
Poppy’s eyes moved to the bride.
“Were you?”
Amelie inhaled slowly.
“Yes,” she said.
The child looked confused.
“Then why are you sad?”
Amelie looked at Gabriel.
He wanted to answer for her.
He did not.
That was the old habit. Speak quickly. Control the silence. Make the uncomfortable thing disappear before it turned into an accusation.
Amelie lowered herself carefully onto the stone step near the arch, folding her satin gown beneath her.
“Because sometimes people can want something very much,” she said, “and still feel scared when something changes.”
Poppy thought about that.
“My mommy gets scared.”
“Does she?”
“She gets quiet.”
Gabriel looked at the child.
“What does she get quiet about?”
Poppy’s fingers tightened in his shirt.
“Phones.”
Amelie’s eyes lifted.
Gabriel’s chest tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t like when phones ring after dark.”
“Did someone call her?”
Poppy nodded.
“Who?”
“The lady.”
“Did you hear her name?”
The child shook her head.
“She said, ‘You know who I am.’”
Gabriel looked toward the villa.
The estate was old enough to have staff entrances, private rooms, storage halls, and hidden latches. It belonged to Amelie’s family, though she rarely talked about it as a family property. She called it the vineyard. She called it home only when she was tired or sad.
Someone had brought a child into that house.
Someone had locked the door.
Someone had known Gabriel would be standing at the ceremony at that exact hour.
Amelie was looking at the ivory door now.
“Do you know who had access to that room?” Gabriel asked.
“Not exactly.”
“Could anyone have used it?”
May you like
“Event staff. The planner. My mother. The estate manager. A few family friends, maybe.”
The list came out too quickly.
