The wedding
1236 Words
I had been at the wedding for twenty minutes when I realized Sophie had lied to me.
Not deliberately, I hoped. But when she'd said, Come with me, it'll be a small wedding, I had pictured a tasteful venue, a few familiar faces, and dinner before ten.
Instead, I was standing inside a ballroom that looked as though someone had emptied a luxury department store into it.
There were white roses everywhere. On the tables, along the aisle, around the enormous staircase at the entrance. Even the chandeliers looked unnecessarily expensive.
Sophie leaned toward me. “You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Judging rich people.”
“I’m not judging them. I'm observing.”
“You've been observing the same flower arrangement for five minutes.”
“It's excessive.”
She smiled into her champagne glass. “You're jealous.”
“Of flowers?”
“Of the flowers being able to afford a better wedding than you.”
I gave her a look, and she laughed.
This was exactly why I'd agreed to come. Sophie had a way of making uncomfortable situations bearable, and tonight was certainly uncomfortable. I knew almost nobody here. I worked in fashion, which meant I occasionally crossed paths with wealthy people, celebrities, and the kind of women who wore sunglasses indoors, but this was a different level.
This was a Vale wedding.
Even I knew who Adrian Vale was.
His name had been attached to enough business headlines over the years to become almost unavoidable. He'd built his fortune young, expanded it aggressively, and somehow managed to become one of those people whose personal life interested the public almost as much as his companies did.
I had never met him.
As far as I knew, I'd never even been in the same room with him.
That changed when the music began.
The conversations around us faded, and everyone turned toward the entrance.
The bride appeared with her father.
She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made the room seem to rearrange itself around her. Her dress was elegant, her smile nervous, and for a moment I forgot about everything else and simply watched her walk toward the man she was about to marry.
Then I looked at the groom.
Adrian Vale was not smiling.
That wasn't unusual enough to concern me. Weddings could make people nervous. But then his gaze shifted away from the bride and landed somewhere in the crowd.
On me.
I looked behind myself.
There was a couple standing several feet back, deep in conversation.
When I turned around again, Adrian was still looking at me.
I frowned.
“Sophie.”
She was already looking at him. “I see it.”
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“Then why is he staring at me?”
She shrugged, although her expression had become curious. “Maybe he thinks he knows you.”
“That's comforting.”
“Maybe you have one of those faces.”
“What kind of face?”
“The kind people remember.”
I laughed softly and turned my attention back toward the ceremony.
It lasted perhaps thirty seconds.
Then I realized Adrian was still watching me.
Something about it began to feel wrong.
He wasn't looking at me casually. He wasn't distracted. He wasn't even curious.
He looked shaken.
The bride reached the altar, and everyone settled into their seats. Adrian finally turned toward her, but only for a moment. He said something to the officiant that I couldn't hear.
Then he looked at me again.
I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was missing a very important piece of information.
“Lilian,” Sophie whispered, “what did you do?”
I almost laughed. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Unless I secretly married a billionaire and forgot about it, yes.”
She smiled at that, but I didn't.
Because Adrian had just stepped away from the altar.
The room noticed.
A few people shifted in their seats. Someone near the front whispered something. The bride's smile disappeared as she watched her groom walk away from her.
Straight toward me.
My first instinct was to move.
My second was to assume this was some bizarre misunderstanding that would sort itself out.
Neither happened.
Adrian stopped in front of me.
Up close, he looked less intimidating than he had from across the room. He looked tired. His eyes moved over my face with an intensity that made me suddenly conscious of everything—the way my hair fell against my shoulders, the dress I'd chosen that morning, even the small gold earrings I'd almost decided not to wear.
He looked at me as though he was searching for something.
Then he said, very quietly, “Elena?”
I stared at him.
“I'm sorry?”
His expression changed.
It was subtle, but I saw it. Hope first. Then confusion.
“You're Elena.”
I glanced at Sophie, who looked just as bewildered as I felt.
“No,” I said. “I'm Lilian.”
He shook his head almost immediately.
“No.”
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. “I'm fairly certain I know my own name.”
“You don't remember me?”
There was something in his voice that made my smile disappear.
He wasn't playing a joke.
He genuinely believed I knew him.
I studied his face again, searching my memory for anything that might explain this.
Nothing.
“I've never met you before.”
His jaw tightened.
“You're saying you don't know who I am?”
“I know who you are. You're Adrian Vale.”
For some reason, that seemed to make things worse.
He stared at me for several seconds before asking, “Then why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending.”
“I’m not pretending.”
The words came out more firmly this time.
He looked at me as though he wanted to believe me and couldn't.
Behind him, the bride was still standing at the altar.
I glanced past his shoulder and felt a wave of embarrassment. Whatever was happening, this wasn't fair to her.
“Your bride is waiting,” I said quietly.
His eyes flickered toward the altar.
For the first time, he seemed to remember where he was.
But instead of going back, he looked at me again.
“You look different.”
I frowned.
“Different from who?”
He didn't answer.
His gaze lingered on my face.
Then, almost to himself, he whispered, “It really is you.”
I didn't know what that meant.
Before I could ask, he stepped away.
The room remained silent as he returned to the altar.
I sat down slowly.
Sophie leaned toward me, her voice barely audible. “Lilian, what the hell was that?”
I kept my eyes on Adrian.
“I have no idea.”
The officiant said something to him.
Adrian didn't respond.
The bride looked like she was trying very hard not to cry.
And somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the man standing at the altar, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had just happened between us was only the beginning.
Because Adrian Vale hadn't looked at me like I'd reminded him of someone.
He'd looked at me like I'd come back from the dead.
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