Another knock came.
This time, Sophie stepped in wearing ivory silk and anxiety.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Dad is impossible,” she muttered.
That surprised me.
She said she had told him he went too far. I wanted to believe her, but I had spent years resenting how easily she benefited from being his favorite.
Then she said something I did not expect.
“I asked you to be my maid of honor.”
I stared at her.
“You didn’t. Tessa is your maid of honor.”
“I asked you first. You never answered my email.”
“I never got an email.”
Sophie frowned. “I sent it in January.”
“To what address?”
“Your old Hart Foundation account.”
“That account was deactivated last year.”
Silence passed between us.
Not reconciliation.
Not yet.
But possibility.
Then my phone buzzed again.
I’m here.
Sophie noticed. “Who’s here?”
I pulled the thin silver chain from beneath my dress. A simple platinum ring hung from it.
Sophie stared.
“What is that?”
“My wedding ring.”
The room went silent.
“You’re married?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
“To who?”
“Adrian Reyes.”
Sophie sat down abruptly.
“The Adrian Reyes?”
“He would hate being called that.”
She covered her mouth.
“I sat through three Christmas dinners where Dad made jokes about your dating life. You could have stopped him anytime.”
I looked at her.
“I shouldn’t have needed a husband to make those jokes unacceptable.”
Her amusement vanished.
“No,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have.”
