She turned toward Sloane. “You told me Hannah refused family events because she believed she was too successful for everyone.”
Sloane’s face crumbled instantly. “I didn’t know Nathan knew her.”
That sentence told the entire room everything.
Not, “That isn’t true.”
Not, “I’m sorry.”
Only, “I didn’t know I’d get caught.”
Nathan slowly stepped backward away from her. “Sloane,” he said quietly, “I need to know who I’m marrying.”
She grabbed his hand desperately. “You’re seriously choosing her version over mine?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m choosing the pattern I’m seeing with my own eyes.”
My father slammed his hand onto the table. “This is ridiculous. Weddings are emotional. Everyone sit down.”
Marianne Reed turned sharply toward him. “Do not speak to my son that way.”
The authority in her voice ended his performance immediately.
The ceremony was delayed.
Then postponed.
By evening, most guests had left carrying half-eaten cake and rumors that needed no decoration. Sloane sobbed inside the bridal suite. My mother blamed me. My father called me poisonous.
I left before sunset.
Nathan caught up with me near the vineyard entrance.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For asking that in front of everyone.”
I shook my head slowly.
“You asked the first honest question anyone in that family has asked in eleven years.”
He looked ashamed. “I don’t know what happens now.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
