Chapter 1

Seven years with Giles Taylor, and everyone thought I was the shameless one, the one who clung on and wouldn't let go.

I'd been slapped across the face. I'd been called a mistress.

The handful of friends who knew the truth couldn't stand it. One of them called him.

"You're really going to let Wren Mallory carry all of that, take every insult, and never once give her a proper place in your life?"

Giles was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"Beryl Swanson's husband died saving me. Her parents want to entrust the rest of her life to me. With a debt of gratitude like that, I can't refuse."

"Wren loves who I am. If I give the title to Beryl, she won't mind."

The friend still couldn't let it go.

"But I hear you and Beryl are having a wedding. Wren's five months pregnant now. What if she finds out and can't take it—"

Giles didn't hesitate.

"Wren will understand."

I stood in the fitting room, looking down at the white gown I was wearing, and all of it went strangely unreal.

The one who'd once promised to make me the most beautiful bride was Giles.

And the one out there right now, picking out a wedding gown with another woman, was also Giles.

In that moment, the me in the mirror, the one who'd come alone and in secret to try on a wedding dress, looked like a clown.

Giles was wrong, I thought.

I would not entrust the rest of my life to a man who would always need me to be understanding.

...

Outside the fitting room, Beryl had chosen the same gown as mine.

She stood in front of the mirror and asked Giles, smiling, "Does it look good?"

He nodded. There was real admiration in his eyes.

"It looks beautiful."

The saleswoman glanced in through the gap in the door and asked me, "Miss, don't you want to come out and see? On you it'll be just as stunning as it is on the lady out there."

I closed the door. My voice was very quiet.

"No need."

The same gown.

Between me and Beryl, one of us wearing it was enough.

As I was changing out of the dress, Giles called.

"Wrennie, have you had lunch?"

Behind him I could hear the saleswoman gushing, and a woman's soft, low laugh.

Before I could say anything, he went on.

"Sorry I couldn't spend our anniversary with you today. Something urgent came up on Beryl's end. I couldn't get away. Don't be upset."

I stood in the cramped fitting room, staring at that harsh, glaring white in front of me.

"This urgent thing of yours," I asked him. "Is it helping Beryl try on the gown for your wedding?"

"What?" He clearly couldn't work out how I knew.

My voice stayed calm. "Giles, tell me. What do I owe you? What gives you the right to treat me like this?"

The line went silent.

A long while passed. Then footsteps, and Giles's voice, dropped low.

"You already know?"

He drew a deep breath. "Wren, it's just going through the motions of a wedding. You know what happened back then better than anyone. I owe Beryl's family. Her parents are in poor health, and this is their one wish. I can't refuse it."

Everything he said was reasoned, laid out neat, without a single thought for how I felt.

"Then what happens to me?" I asked.

He was quiet for two seconds. His voice dropped a little more.

"Don't make this more complicated than it is. Even after the wedding with her, you're still my girlfriend. Nothing between us will change."

"Is that so?"

He seemed to catch the tone in my voice. When he spoke again he sounded tired.

"What else would it be?"

"Wren, I'm already stuck in the middle. This is hard enough for me."

"Just stop making a scene, okay?"

"A scene?"

I repeated the word, softly.

My chest was so tight I couldn't get a breath.

There were so many ways to repay a debt, and Giles had picked the one that trampled me most.

His debt to repay, and I was the one paying the price.

And in the end, even asking a single question had become making a scene.

I said nothing. I just hung up.

On my way out, Giles was helping Beryl choose a traditional gown, his expression serious, a smile at the corner of his mouth as he turned his head to speak to her.

I walked right past behind him, and he never noticed.

I left the bridal shop and took a car back to my mother's.

I told her about Giles and me.

"Mom, I'm going to break up with Giles. But this baby—"

My voice trailed off. It was a few seconds before I could go on. "I haven't decided yet whether to keep it."

She was silent for a long time.

In the end she told me that whatever I decided, she'd stand behind me.

In that moment I understood it clearly, for real: the person who truly loves you can't bear to see you hurt, not even a little.

That night, on the way home, Beryl's post came up in my feed.

She'd put up a photo.

A warm, cozy living room, her holding a cake, Giles watching her with a lazy smile on his lips.

The caption read—

[Moved into our wedding home today. Mornings and nights with Mr. Taylor from now on, everyday life together, year after year.]

Below it were plenty of blessings from mutual friends.

Giles had replied to her with two words. "Year after year."

I stared at this so-called wedding home.

And a bitterness rose in my mouth that I could hardly stand.

When I got home, Giles wasn't there, exactly as I'd expected.

I lay on the bed, my mind thick and muddled, turning over a hundred things.

At three in the morning, a nightmare jolted me awake.

Out of habit I reached for the warmth of the body beside me, but my hand found only cold, empty sheets.

I sat there dazed for a while, then took out my phone and called Giles.

"Where are you?"

The voice on the other end was blurred, as if he'd just been startled out of sleep.

"What?"

"I'm at home."

I stood on the cold floor, my fingertips slowly tightening.

"Giles. Which home?"