Chapter 4 - The Woman at Breakfast
I did not sleep.
By seven in the morning, my wedding gown had been replaced with black trousers, a white blouse, and the kind of calm that comes only after something inside you has already broken.
Declan remained in the guest room.
His parents had finally left after Martin convinced Celeste that refusing to leave could be interpreted as further coercion.
At 8:10, the doorbell rang.
I expected Elena.
Instead, Brier Logan stood outside.
She wore oversized sunglasses and a cream-colored coat.
Her makeup was perfect.
For a woman supposedly hysterical enough to require another woman’s husband on his wedding night, she looked remarkably composed.
“Where is Declan?”
I stared at her.
“You came to my home the morning after my wedding to ask for my husband?”
She removed her sunglasses.
“He told me to come.”
Behind me, I heard footsteps.
Declan appeared.
“What are you doing here?”
Brier’s confidence flickered.
“You said we needed to fix this.”
“Not here.”
I laughed.
Both of them looked at me.
“No, please.”
I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
“Sarah,” Declan warned.
“I have spent all night learning that everyone else apparently knows more about my marriage than I do.”
I gestured toward the living room.
“So let’s finally share.”
Brier walked inside.
She glanced at our wedding flowers and smiled faintly.
“You always did like white roses.”
Declan stiffened.
I caught it.
“How would she know what flowers I like?”
Brier looked at him.
Then at me.
“Oh.”
Declan’s voice sharpened.
“Brier.”
“What?”
She sat.
“You told me Sarah knew.”
“Knew what?”
My stomach tightened.
Brier studied me.
“You really didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?”
Declan moved between us.
“This isn’t helpful.”
That confirmed there was something to tell.
I looked past him.
“Brier.”
She folded her hands.
“Declan and I were together until eleven weeks ago.”
Every sound in the room seemed to disappear.
Declan spoke immediately.
“That’s not true.”
Brier laughed.
“You were in my apartment on May twenty-eighth.”
“We had been broken up for months.”
“You slept there.”
“I was helping you.”
I almost smiled at the familiar phrase.
Helping her.
Comforting her.
Apparently Declan had built an entire romantic vocabulary around verbs that sounded innocent.
I looked at him.
“We sent wedding invitations five months ago.”
“Sarah, listen.”
“No.”
I turned to Brier.
“Why did you call him last night?”
Her expression became colder.
“Because he promised me something.”
Declan took a step toward her.
“Stop.”
I lifted my hand.
“Let her speak.”
Brier leaned back.
“He told me the marriage was temporary.”
I felt my pulse in my throat.
“He said once the Whitmore trust released the Hale voting block, he would have what his family needed.”
Declan stared at her.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brier smiled.
“Then why did you tell me six months?”
I looked at my husband.
May you like
Six hours earlier he had promised me forever.
Now his ex-girlfriend was telling me I had been given six months.
