Chapter 3 - The Rehearsal Dinner
The next evening, I walked into Lucas’s rehearsal dinner wearing midnight blue.
Alexander had chosen nothing for me.
That mattered.
He had placed five garment bags across our hotel suite and said, “Pick whichever makes you feel like yourself.”
The midnight-blue dress did.
It was elegant without being flashy, fitted without feeling like armor.
When we entered the restaurant together, conversations stopped anyway.
Not because of the dress.
Because of Alexander.
I hated that at first.
Then I watched my mother hurry toward us.
“Emily!”
She kissed my cheek.
My mother had not kissed my cheek voluntarily in months.
“Alexander. We’re so happy you could come.”
His expression remained courteous.
“Thank you.”
Marlene materialized beside her.
“We’ve heard so much about you.”
I almost choked on my water.
Alexander looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither of us needed to say it.
No, you haven’t.
Lucas rescued us.
“Emily.”
He hugged me.
It was awkward, but genuine.
Then he introduced his fiancée, Sophie, properly.
I had met Sophie several times, but always in crowded family situations. Tonight she held my hands.
“I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I believed things I shouldn’t have.”
My stomach tightened.
“What things?”
She glanced toward Mom.
“Can we talk later?”
That became the theme of the evening.
People knew things about me that I didn't know about myself.
According to my mother, I had been fired twice.
I hadn't.
I had begged my parents for money.
I hadn't borrowed a dollar since college.
I had become obsessed with an engaged coworker.
I had never even heard that story.
Worst of all, apparently I had been invited to bring a partner to Lucas’s wedding but had refused because I was “ashamed he wasn't successful enough.”
The truth?
My invitation explicitly said one guest: Emily Carter.
No plus-one.
I found Mom near the bar.
“Why?”
She stiffened.
“Not here.”
“Why have you been lying about me?”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Embarrassment.”
“Whose?”
She looked around.
“Lower your voice.”
I hadn't raised it.
That realization gave me strength.
“I want an answer.”
“You've always been sensitive.”
“That's not an answer.”
“You exaggerate things.”
“Still not an answer.”
She sighed.
“Emily, sometimes families simplify situations.”
“You told people I invented relationships.”
Her gaze flickered toward Alexander.
“Obviously I was mistaken about that.”
“Why would you tell them that in the first place?”
She didn't answer.
Then Aunt Marlene appeared.
“This is Lucas’s dinner.”
I turned.
“You’re right.”
She seemed relieved.
“So we’ll discuss your part in this tomorrow.”
Her relief vanished.
I walked away.
Alexander was speaking with Dad.
That sight alone felt surreal.
Dad had discovered who Alexander was and suddenly possessed an endless supply of questions.
Business.
Investments.
Markets.
Expansion.
Alexander answered politely, then redirected.
“Emily actually knows more about that sector than I do.”
Dad looked at me as though Alexander had pointed out an undiscovered person standing beside him.
“You do?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“I didn't know.”
“I know.”
Across the room, Lucas heard.
His face tightened.
Later, during dinner, speeches began.
Dad spoke about Lucas’s childhood.
Mom talked about how Lucas had “always been the heart of our family.”
I stared at my plate.
Alexander’s hand rested near mine beneath the table.
Not touching.
Waiting.
I moved my fingers against his.
Then Sophie’s father spoke.
Then Lucas.
He thanked everyone.
Finally, he looked toward me.
“And my sister Emily…”
Mom’s head snapped up.
Lucas hesitated.
“She did more for this weekend than anyone probably realizes.”
I stared at him.
“She designed the seating cards, fixed the vendor problem, found our photographer when the first one canceled, and apparently bought ribbons everyone accused her of forgetting.”
A few people laughed.
Mom did not.
Lucas swallowed.
“I should've noticed more.”
He lifted his glass.
“To Emily.”
I didn't know what to do with that.
So I lifted mine.
After dinner, Sophie found me on the terrace.
“I need to tell you something.”
Alexander was inside. I had deliberately come out alone.
“What?”
Sophie folded her arms against the cold.
“Your mother asked me not to make you a bridesmaid.”
I blinked.
“I never expected to be one.”
“I wanted you.”
That hurt more.
“She said you couldn't handle it.”
I stared through the window.
Mom was laughing with relatives.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That you became jealous around weddings.”
I almost laughed.
“Of what?”
“She said you had a history of attaching yourself to men who weren't interested.”
There it was again.
The fictional Emily.
Sophie continued.
“She also said Lucas agreed.”
I looked at her.
“Did he?”
“I thought he did.”
The terrace door opened.
Lucas stepped outside.
Apparently he had heard the last sentence.
“I never said that.”
Sophie turned.
“Your mother told me you did.”
“I told Mom I wanted Emily included.”
My pulse accelerated.
“When?”
“January.”
Six months earlier.
Sophie stared at him.
“She told me you changed your mind.”
“I didn't.”
Lucas looked sick.
“She told me Emily refused.”
Now all three of us understood.
Mom had told each person a different story.
“Why?” Lucas whispered.
I knew before he did.
Control.
If Lucas and I compared notes, the stories collapsed.
So Mom had spent years keeping us emotionally separated.
Sophie touched his arm.
“There’s something else.”
Lucas looked at her.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“I found something this morning.”
She pulled a folded document from her purse.
“I wasn’t sure whether to show you before the wedding.”
Lucas took it.
His face drained of color.
“What is this?”
I moved closer.
It was an invoice from the wedding planner.
A large one.
At the bottom was a payment authorization.
The account number was partially hidden.
But the account holder’s name was not.
Emily Carter.
I stared at it.
“I didn't authorize this.”
Lucas looked at me.
“How much?”
Sophie pointed to the total.
May you like
Twenty-eight thousand dollars.
And suddenly the dresses weren't the biggest thing my mother had destroyed.
