In the Bayhaven chapel, a breeze stirred the white fabric draped beside the windows. I stood next to Noah, about to answer the officiant's question.
"Ivy, do you take—"
"She doesn't!" a furious voice rang out from the entrance.
Before anyone could stop him, Adrian flung open the chapel doors and strode down the petal-strewn aisle. He wore a bespoke black suit, its cuff links flashing coldly under the lights.
The guests all turned to look.
He walked straight up to me and held out his hand. "Ivy, come with me."
The tone was painfully familiar. In the past, wherever we were, I would go to him the instant he called. In four years, he had never needed to call me twice.
But this time, I stayed where I was.
His brow creased. "This joke isn't funny."
"No one is joking with you." I raised
