He Gave My Wedding Away

Chapter 3

The emcee stood there with his microphone, taking a long moment to process what I'd said.

"Ms. Mercer, we still have party tonight."

I looked at him and repeated myself.

"Just announce that the celebration is over. You'll still be paid in full."

Seeing that I wouldn't budge, he reluctantly headed for the stage. The guests looked startled when they heard the announcement. Ignoring their questioning glances, I turned toward the dressing room at the end of the hall.

The weight of my skirts pulled my gown tight around me, making it hard to breathe. I pushed open the dressing room door and sank wearily into the makeup chair.

I bent down and reached for the shoebox beneath it. That morning, I'd set aside a pair of soft-soled, pearl-embellished flats to change into after the toasts. My fingers found the edge of the box, but no shoes. I pulled it out. It was empty.

The door opened, and my bridesmaid hurried in, gathering up her skirts.

"Natalie, are you okay?"

She looked at the empty shoebox in my hands, visibly embarrassed.

"Um... Colin took your flats."

I looked up at her without a word. She bit her lip, her voice growing quieter.

"The heel on one of Vanessa's shoes broke. She almost fell. Colin saw she couldn't stand properly, so he ran in here and took your shoes for her to change into."

I looked down at my silver heels. I'd chosen them to match my wedding gown. They were a full 4 inches high, with narrow toe boxes and stiff uppers.

I stood, and a sharp pain shot through my heel. Gasping, I sank back into the chair.

When I slipped off my right shoe, vivid streaks of blood marked its white inner edge. A large patch of skin had rubbed off my heel, leaving it raw and bleeding. My bridesmaid cried out and hurried to rummage through her purse for tissues.

The door opened again. Colin strode in, looking distinctly annoyed.

"Why did you suddenly tell the emcee to end everything? All our relatives are asking what's going on."

He stopped in front of me and stared down at me. I didn't look up. I just pressed a tissue gently against my injured heel.

At last, his eyes dropped to my foot. He paused at the sight of the blood, but a moment later he was frowning again.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner that those shoes were rubbing?"

There was no concern in his voice, only irritation that his plans had been disrupted.

"I thought you'd brought two pairs of flats. Vanessa couldn't even walk. That's the only reason I gave them to her."

He'd managed to absolve himself completely. I hadn't spoken up soon enough. I'd given him the wrong impression. He always had an excuse, and he always acted as though it settled everything.

"I'll get you a pair from the convenience store next door in a minute," he said offhandedly, already turning to leave.

Out in the hallway, Simon was leaning against the wall, apparently waiting for his family. Through the half-open door, he quietly watched what was happening in the dressing room. He didn't speak or come inside. He simply turned and walked toward the service desk at the other end of the hall.

A few minutes later, a server knocked and came into the dressing room.

"Excuse me, Mr. Alden asked me to bring these to you."

The server handed me a plastic bag containing a box of waterproof bandages and a pack of antiseptic wipes.

I accepted the bag and looked at the pharmacy logo printed on it. Even a stranger had shown more thoughtfulness than the man I'd loved for 3 years.

I tore open an antiseptic wipe and carefully cleaned the blood from my foot. The alcohol stung the raw skin fiercely, but I didn't even flinch.

I took off my other heel and stepped barefoot onto the cold dressing room tiles. Walking over to the shelf in the corner, I took an elegantly wrapped gift box from my bag.

It was the surprise I'd planned to give Colin in front of everyone at the evening reception. Inside was a custom photo album of our 3 years together. It held the ticket stubs from our first movie, pictures from our first trip, and every little note he'd ever written me.

I looked at the gold lettering on the cover, 3 Years. I didn't tear it apart, and I didn't cry. I simply lifted the album and calmly dropped it into the trash can beside me. It landed against the plastic liner with a heavy thud.