Something Borrowed
Chapter 1: Something Borrowed
By three forty-five, every candle in St. Catherine’s had been lit, the string quartet had begun its third piece, and Natalie Bennett had been told eleven times that this was the happiest day of her life.
She was inclined to believe it.
Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, scattering blue and amber across the limestone floor. White roses climbed the ends of the pews in arrangements so generous they appeared to be growing out of the church itself. Beyond the closed doors of the bridal room, guests greeted one another in delighted whispers, punctuated by the occasional laugh from someone who had forgotten where they were.
Two hundred and sixteen people had come to watch her marry Evan Marshall.
Two hundred and seventeen if his aunt brought the boyfriend nobody was supposed to mention.
Natalie turned toward the full-length mirror while her younger cousin crouched behind her, arranging the train.
“Please tell me that’s straight.”
“The dress or your future mother-in-law’s smile?” Sophie asked.
“The dress. I’ve accepted the limitations of the smile.”
Sophie grinned up at her. Across the room, Beth stopped searching her clutch long enough to laugh, while Natalie’s sister, Rachel, approached with a tissue folded into a precise little triangle.
“Hold still. You’ve got lipstick just here.”
Natalie obediently lifted her chin. Rachel dabbed the corner of her mouth, stepped back, and studied her with an expression that made Natalie’s throat tighten.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Rachel.”
Their mother had stepped out to check on the guests. Natalie could picture her fussing over the buttons and crying before anyone had even touched the veil.
Rachel squeezed her hand.
“Mom loves the dress.”
Natalie looked back at the mirror before her eyes could fill. The gown was ivory satin, fitted through the waist, with a neckline that left her shoulders bare and a train she had needed three separate appointments to stop calling excessive. Tiny pearl buttons ran down her back. Beneath the skirt, her shoes were blue.
Her mother liked that part best.
“She told me I spent too much.”
“She told everyone you looked beautiful first.”
Natalie leaned her forehead briefly against her sister’s. Then Beth announced that somebody needed to take the emergency sewing kit away from Sophie before she attempted another improvement, and the moment loosened into laughter.
Everything was ready.
Almost.
Natalie glanced toward the door.
“Where’s Paige?”
“She went to find your bouquet,” Beth said.
“My bouquet’s there.”
They all looked at the arrangement of white garden roses resting in its glass vase on the table.
“Oh.” Beth frowned. “Then maybe the photographer?”
“The photographer went outside with Dad.”
Rachel checked her phone.
“She can’t have gone far.”
Natalie picked up her own phone from beneath a discarded ribbon. Her last message to Paige had been sent seventeen minutes earlier.
Do you have the vows?
Below it sat Paige’s reply.
Got them. Breathe, bride.
Natalie smiled. Paige had been telling her to breathe since their first college presentation, when Natalie had dropped an entire stack of index cards and briefly considered changing her name rather than retrieving them.
She pressed Call.
It rang until voicemail.
“Probably fixing something,” Natalie said.
That was what Paige did. She had rescued the seating chart after Evan’s mother decided divorced people should be positioned according to diplomatic immunity, found a replacement hairdresser when the original one caught the flu, and arrived that morning with iced coffee and a breakfast sandwich Natalie had actually managed to eat.
Now Natalie needed her to stand in front of her and say something ridiculous before the doors opened.
“I’ll find her.”
Rachel glanced at the clock.
“You’ve got ten minutes.”
“Then I’ll walk with purpose.”
“You cannot walk with purpose in that train.”
Natalie gathered a careful handful of satin.
“Watch me.”
The corridor behind the sanctuary was cooler than the bridal room. Through an open doorway, Natalie caught a glimpse of guests settling into the pews: pale hats, dark suits, someone lifting a phone for a photograph of the flowers. Near the entrance, Evan’s mother was adjusting a white rose on an arrangement that had already survived two florists and a professional lighting consultation.
Natalie stepped back before she could be spotted and assigned an improvement.
She loved Evan, but marrying him had occasionally felt like joining a committee whose meetings had begun without her.
He had promised the honeymoon would make up for it. Eight days somewhere warm. No schedules, no seating charts, no conversations about whether her father’s suit was formal enough.
She turned down the side passage toward the vestry.
“Paige?”
No answer came. Farther along, a door closed, followed by footsteps and the soft rattle of keys.
Luke Seville emerged from the little courtyard entrance with his suit jacket over one shoulder.
Natalie had met Luke three times during the wedding preparations. On each occasion, he had looked as though somebody had interrupted him halfway through something useful and insisted he attend dinner.
Today, he wore a charcoal suit and a loosened tie. A small white rose was pinned crookedly to his lapel.
He stopped when he saw her.
“Natalie.”
“Please tell me you’re fetching something from your car.”
His fingers closed around the keys.
“Have you seen Evan?”
“Not since the photographs before lunch. Why?”
Luke glanced toward the vestry.
For the first time that afternoon, something unpleasant stirred beneath her ribs.
“Is something wrong?”
“You should talk to him.”
She gave a small, uncertain laugh.
“I’m planning to. Quite publicly, actually.”
He didn’t smile.
Before she could ask again, someone called her name from the far end of the passage. The church coordinator stood beneath the archway holding a clipboard against her chest.
“Five minutes, Natalie. Shall I send your father through?”
“Just finding Paige.”
The woman nodded and disappeared.
Natalie turned back, but Luke had stepped aside, leaving the corridor clear.
“Evan’s in the vestry,” he said.
She watched him for another second.
Then she continued down the passage.
Perhaps Luke and Evan had argued about money. Evan said Luke took everything too seriously, and Luke generally responded to Evan’s jokes by looking at him until somebody changed the subject.
Natalie reached the vestry door and heard Paige laugh.
Relief came first.
There she was.
Natalie lifted her hand to knock, smiling already.
Then Evan spoke.
“We have to go back.”
“Then let go of me.”
Paige’s voice was low and amused.
Natalie’s hand stopped inches from the wood.
The door stood slightly ajar. Through the opening, she could see the edge of a table, a brass cross, and Evan’s hand against the pale green fabric at Paige’s waist.
For a moment, the sight made no sense.
Natalie pushed the door.
Paige stood between Evan and the table. His other hand was at the back of her neck, his mouth still touching hers when they turned.
Nobody moved.
The quartet’s music drifted faintly through the walls.
Natalie noticed absurd things. Paige’s bouquet lying beside a stack of service sheets. The crooked knot in Evan’s tie. A smear of lipstick near his lower lip.
The same berry shade Paige had offered to lend her that morning.
Evan stepped back.
“Nat.”
Paige brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes went straight to Natalie’s dress.
“Oh, God.”
Natalie waited for one of them to say something that would make the room become ordinary again.
Nothing did.
“How long?”
Evan looked toward the open door.
“Keep your voice down.”
She stared at him.
She hadn’t raised it.
He came toward her, palms open, wearing the patient expression he used when a restaurant lost their reservation.
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
Behind him, Paige began to cry.
Natalie looked at her best friend.
“You have my vows.”
Paige’s face crumpled.
The little cream booklet lay beside the bouquet. Natalie could see the ribbon she had tied around it that morning, sitting at her kitchen table while her father burned toast and pretended he wasn’t nervous.
She walked past Evan and picked it up.
“Natalie, listen to me.”
“How long?” she asked again.
“It was a mistake.”
“Today?”
Neither answered.
She looked from one to the other. Paige lowered her eyes.
Something inside Natalie settled with a dreadful, clean certainty.
Evan reached for her arm.
“We have a church full of people.”
She pulled away.
“Yes,” she said. “You should probably tell them.”
Then she left.
Rachel was halfway down the corridor when Natalie reached her.
One look at her face stopped her sister cold.
“What happened?”
Natalie tried to answer. Her breath caught so sharply that Rachel took both her hands.
“Look at me.”
“Evan. And Paige.”
Rachel’s grip tightened.
For a second, Natalie thought her sister might go straight past her and commit an act that would require legal representation.
Instead, she stepped closer.
“What do you need?”
The question nearly undid her.
Natalie pressed the booklet against her stomach.
“My bag.”
Rachel nodded once.
“Wait here.”
Footsteps sounded behind them.
“Nat, don’t do this.”
Evan.
Natalie turned toward the courtyard door.
Rachel caught her wrist gently.
“Go. I’ll bring it.”
Outside, the afternoon was offensively beautiful. Sunshine lay across the church lawn. White ribbons fluttered on the railings, and somewhere beyond the hedge a driver was laughing into his phone.
Natalie descended the side steps, carrying her train in both hands.
Near the gate, Luke stood beside a dark sedan. He had opened the driver’s door and was looking back toward the church.
She crossed the gravel before he could say anything.
“Unlock it.”
He pressed the key.
Natalie opened the rear door and began feeding several thousand dollars’ worth of satin into the car. Her veil caught on something. She tugged, heard a pin fall, and decided it could remain a contribution to the church grounds.
Rachel hurried down the steps with her overnight bag and handbag.
“Your phone’s inside. I’ll tell Dad.”
Natalie took them through the open door.
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
“He’ll be sorry he didn’t bring a shovel.”
A laugh escaped Natalie, broken and painful.
Rachel kissed her forehead.
“Call me when you’re somewhere you can breathe.”
Luke slid behind the wheel. In the mirror, his eyes met Natalie’s.
“Where do you want to go?”
The courtyard door opened.
Evan appeared at the top of the steps.
Natalie fastened her seat belt.
“Anywhere he isn’t.”
Luke started the engine.
