The Cold Heir's Paper Bride

I wore my best dress to Promise Night. It was blue and plain, and I had sewn it myself. The whole town of Brookhaven stood by Lake Marrow, holding paper lanterns. Old women sold hot cider. Children ran in circles with sparklers. Couples stood so close their shoulders touched. On this one night, a man could ask a woman to be his. If she said yes, they lit a lantern together and set it on the water. Daniel had texted me at noon. Come to my flat after the lanterns. I have something to ask you. I had read it ten times. My hands still shook. Daniel Whitlock was the banker's son. In my father's house, he was the only person who had ever been kind to me. When my half sister called me "the cook's daughter" in front of guests, he stood next to me. When my father forgot my birthday, Daniel brought me a cupcake with one candle. My mother cooked for the Mercer family. My father was Richard Mercer, who ran Mercer Foods. He let me live under his roof, but he never once said "my daughter" out loud. I touched my mother's silver sparrow hairpin in my hair for luck. She had pinned it there that morning. "You look like a girl who is about to be happy," she had said. I believed her. I left the lanterns early and walked up the hill to the bank. Daniel's flat sat above it. He had given me a key last spring. I climbed the back stairs, smoothing my dress. There was music inside. There were flowers on the table, and a small velvet box sat open next to them. A ring shone in it. I smiled. I actually smiled. Then I looked at the sofa. Daniel sat there with his shirt half open. My half sister Vivian sat on his lap, her golden curls in his hands. Her mouth was on his. The key fell out of my fingers and hit the floor. They both turned. Vivian did not jump away. She slowly wiped her lip with her thumb and smiled at me like a cat. "Oh, Naomi," she said. "You're early." "Daniel?" My voice came out so small I hardly heard it. He stood up. His face went white, and then red. "Naomi. I can explain." "Explain what?" I looked at the ring box. "You asked me to come." "I was going to tell you tonight." He rubbed his neck. "Not like this. Vivian told me this morning. She's pregnant." The room tilted. "It's mine," he said. He would not meet my eyes. "I have to do the right thing." "The right thing." I heard myself laugh, and it was an ugly sound. "You bought me a ring." "I bought it before." He waved at the box. "Before I knew." Vivian slid off the sofa and put her arm around his waist. She was wearing his sweater. It hung to her knees. "Don't be dramatic, Naomi," she said. "You'll embarrass yourself. You always do." I looked at her. For ten years she had hidden my shoes, torn my school books and told guests I was the maid. Now she had taken the only person who had ever stood beside me. "You knew," I said. "You knew he was going to ask me." "Of course I knew." She tilted her head. "Why do you think I got to him first?" Daniel flinched, but he did not say she was wrong. That was the worst part. He did not even say she was wrong. "I'm sorry," he said, softer. "I really am." "No," I said. My knees were shaking, but my voice stopped shaking. "You're not sorry enough to be brave." I picked up my key from the floor. I put it on the table, right next to the ring. I did not cry in front of them. I walked down the back stairs one step at a time. I walked past the bank, past the lanterns, past the laughing couples. Then I started to run. I ran past the end of the street and onto the path through the pine trees. I ran until my shoes slipped on wet needles and my breath burned in my chest. There was one place I always went when I was hurt. It was an old boathouse at the edge of Lake Marrow, half rotten, forgotten by everyone. My grandfather used to take me there to feed ducks when I was small. Nobody came there now. The sky was changing. Thick gray clouds rolled over the lake. Wind pulled at my dress. Far behind me, the lantern music was fading. I pushed open the boathouse door and sat on the old wooden bench by the water. I pulled my knees to my chest. Then I cried. I cried until my head ached. Thunder cracked over the lake. Rain hit the roof like thrown gravel. All at once, every light in the distant town went black. The storm had cut the power. Good, I thought. Now nobody can see me. I should have gone home. I know that now. But I could not face the house, or Vivian's laugh when she came back. A board creaked outside. I held my breath. A second creak. Then low voices, men's voices, slow and slurred. "Told you somebody was in here." The door swung open. A flashlight beam hit my face. Three men stood there, wet through. They smelled like beer and fish and old smoke. One was tall, with a scruffy beard and a thick neck. I knew his type from the docks, men who wanted a fight and did not care who was in it. "Well, now," the tall one said. "Look what the storm washed in." "I'm leaving," I said. I stood. My legs felt like water. "I was just leaving." "No rush." He stepped inside. The other two moved behind him, blocking the door. "A pretty girl on her own, in the dark. That's no way to spend Promise Night. We'll keep you company." "Please move." "Say please again," the second man laughed. I backed up until my heels touched the edge of the wooden dock. Cold rain blew in on my neck. There was nowhere left to go but the lake. The tall man grabbed my wrist. His fingers were hard as rope. "Let go!" I pulled, but he only pulled back. My sparrow pin flew out of my hair and clinked somewhere on the boards. I screamed. "Scream all you like," he said. "Nobody comes out here." A voice split the dark. "LET HER GO." It was not a shout. It was lower than a shout, and calm in a way that made my skin go cold. It rolled over the water like a door slamming. The three men froze. I looked past them to the doorway. A tall shape stood there against the lightning, with broad shoulders, soaked through, one hand hanging loose at his side. He did not run at them. He just walked in.