Chapter 4 - The Altar That Waited
The sound that left Paige’s throat was animalistic—a high-pitched, choked gasp of absolute disbelief.
"What did you just say?" she whispered.
"I'm not marrying you," Ryan said.
"You can't do that!" Elaine screamed, lunging forward as if she could physically force Ryan to reconsider. "The caterers are paid! The deposit on the estate is non-refundable! There are ninety people sitting in the garden waiting for music! David, do something! Talk to your son-in-law!"
"He’s not my son-in-law yet, Elaine," David said. His voice was trembling, but for the first time in my life, he wasn't folding under my mother’s fury. He looked at Paige, his younger, golden daughter, with a look of profound heartbreak. "Paige... did you really do that on purpose?"
"Dad, she’s lying! Ryan is misunderstanding everything!" Paige sobbed, real tears finally spilling over her mascara, running black tracks down her cheeks. "Ryan, look at me! I love you! I was just stressed! The wedding stress made me crazy! Brides get crazy before weddings, everyone knows that! Ask Brooke!"
Brooke, standing five feet away holding Paige’s bouquet, immediately took two steps backward, dropping her gaze to the stone floor. She was Paige’s closest college friend, but she was not willing to go down in the Mercer family’s crosshairs.
"Brooke!" Paige yelled. "Tell him!"
Brooke swallowed hard. "Paige... you did say those things. You said them on the drive here, too."
The betrayal hit Paige like a physical blow. She staggered backward, her expensive heels catching on the stone rim of the pool. For a terrifying second, I thought she was going to fall in herself, but she caught her balance against a wrought-iron patio chair.
In the distance, the sharp wail of an emergency siren cut through the September breeze.
The ambulance was turning into the long, oak-lined driveway of Willow Creek Estate.
"My God," Elaine muttered, pressing her hands against her temples. "The siren. Everyone on the road is going to see it. Our reputation... David, this will be in the local paper by tomorrow morning."
"Your daughter might need shoulder reconstruction surgery, Elaine!" David suddenly roared, his voice cracking with an explosive fury I had never heard from him in my thirty-four years. "And all you care about is the local gossip column?"
The siren grew deafening as the red-and-white vehicle pulled up along the flagstone path, its tires churning over the manicured grass. Two paramedics in navy uniforms jumped out of the back, carrying a heavy trauma bag and a folding stretcher.
"Who’s the patient?" the lead paramedic asked, scanning the chaotic crowd in tuxedos and evening gowns.
"Over here," Ryan called out, stepping aside to give them room. "Female, thirty-four. Right shoulder dislocation, potential secondary labral tear following blunt trauma."
The paramedic knelt beside me, his gloved fingers immediately checking my pulse and feeling the coldness of my right fingers. "All right, ma'am. Don't move. We're going to stabilize this arm before we even try to get you onto the cot."
As they began wrapping a rigid vacuum splint around my arm and torso, Paige threw herself at Ryan’s chest, grabbing his lapels with both hands.
"Ryan, please! We can postpone the vows by an hour! Let them take her to the clinic, and we can still do the dinner! My dress... Ryan, please, I spent two years planning this day!"
Ryan reached up, took Paige’s wrists in his hands, and firmly, deliberately, pried her fingers off his suit jacket.
"You spent two years planning a party," Ryan said, his voice devastatingly quiet. "You didn't spend five minutes learning how to be a human being."
He turned away from her and walked over to the paramedics.
"I'm riding with her," Ryan told the EMT.
"Are you family, sir?" the paramedic asked.
Ryan glanced back at Paige, who was kneeling in the dirt, her white dress smudged with green grass stains and mud, surrounded by stunned guests who were already taking out their phones.
May you like
"No," Ryan said. "I'm not."
***
