She never said my name, but everyone knew. And I pretended not to. I just focused on the wedding I was planning.
When everything was finally set, Gideon came home with his usual apologetic face. “Marianne, I’ve got a business trip this weekend. I’ll have to bail on you again.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I moved just enough to dodge it.
That flicker of rejection startled him.
“Baby, next week, I swear, I’ll spend every moment with you,” he promised again.
When I nodded faintly, he finally relaxed.
I offered to drive him to the airport, but he refused. I could just watch him get into Arabella’s car.
By Saturday, I had the timing memorized. I drove to the church with Colette, and from there, I remotely ran the entire ceremony, lights, music, everything.
And I invited everyone: Gideon’s clients, his employees, his relatives, his friends.
When the groom pulled up with his bride, he froze at the sight of the packed hall. For a second, he thought he was at the wrong wedding.
But one of Gideon’s closest friends frowned in annoyance. “What the hell are you all doing here? This isn’t some free-for-all. Get out before the bride and groom arrive—”