My Groom Was an Hour Late. I Replaced Him.

The violinist's bow stopped dead. The music cut out. In the ballroom of the Halcyon Hotel in Kingswell, 300 guests stared at the altar. A few still had their glasses up, like the words hadn't landed yet. My father was first on his feet. "Natalie, do you hear what you're saying?" I nodded. Before I could answer, my mother caught up her skirt and came to the edge of the platform. "He's here now," she whispered. "Whatever this is, hash it out after the ceremony. All these people came to watch you get married. Don't let your temper run the show." She sounded exactly like she had at my dress fitting. I'd stood alone in front of the mirror until the staff had killed half the lights, and only then had Vincent called to say something had come up. She'd defended him that day too. When you run a company that size, fires happen. Then he'd walked out in the middle of my speech at our engagement dinner. For the rehearsal, he'd sent his assistant to walk through the steps in his place. Every time it stung, everybody said the same thing: he's busy. Cut him some slack. So today I'd waited from 11:00 to noon. By the time the officiant came over for the fourth time to ask what was going on, I could barely hold the smile. And my mother was still telling me to give him a few more minutes. Vincent looked down at the diamond sitting in the bottom of the glass. He straightened his cuff before he spoke. "Take it out. Don't make us a punchline." He hadn't raised his voice. He didn't have to—I knew that tone cold. Usually this was the point where I backed off before it got ugly. This time I just pushed the glass toward him. "You want it, go get it yourself." He finally looked up, clearly offended. "Because I was an hour late?" "Yes." I glanced at Olivia's hand on his arm. "That hour was a long one for me." Like it had only just hit her how it looked, Olivia let go and took a small step back. "This is on me. Something happened this morning, and Mr. Mercer took me to the hospital. If you need someone to blame, Miss Bennett, blame me." As she said it, she turned the pearl bracelet inward on her wrist. I'd seen that exact design in last year's auction catalog. When I'd lingered on it, Vincent had told me it was too old for me. Against Olivia's pale, thin wrist, it didn't look old at all. My mother asked what was wrong, all concern. Olivia mustered a faint smile. "I'm okay now. I kept telling him to come here first, but he said the wedding could wait—he couldn't just leave me at the hospital by myself." Vincent's mother, Evelyn, jumped straight in. "You see now? He couldn't very well walk out on someone who was sick. Natalie, you need to get your priorities straight." She turned to the guests with an apologetic smile and told them my family had spoiled me—and planning a wedding is exhausting, so of course I was a little wound up. A few of her friends chimed in, gently coaxing me to settle down, like putting the ring back on would smooth the whole thing over. Vincent reached for the mic. "Olivia apologized. What else do you want?" "An explanation. From you." I moved it out of his reach. "Doesn't she have a driver? Aren't there doctors at the hospital? Why did she need you—the man getting married today—to go with her?" Olivia's eyes welled instantly. "I know you don't like me, but I don't have any family in Graybridge. Is it so awful to want somebody there when I'm scared?" She had on an ivory silk dress with a white rose pinned to the front. Standing next to Vincent, she looked more like his other half than I did, white-knuckling the mic in my wedding gown. Right on cue, Vincent stepped in front of her. I'd watched him do it so many times I could've mouthed what came next: she's just his secretary. Why did I have to make her life hard? "Natalie, don't make me say something ugly in front of everybody." I tightened my grip on the mic and held his eyes. "Go ahead. You've clearly said plenty to her behind my back."