It was a young woman in a black venue polo shirt with a headset around her neck.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But there’s a woman downstairs asking about the wedding cake. She wants to know if it arrived okay.”
She checked her clipboard.
“She says her name is Laura.”
David went pale.
“She’s here?”
He was out the door before anyone could stop him. I heard him taking the old wooden stairs two at a time.
I followed him.
Emma followed me, barefoot, in her robe, with half her hair done.
At the bottom of the stairs was the main entrance of the barn. Big double doors propped open to the gravel parking lot. Sunlight pouring in.
A woman was standing just inside the doors.
She was about my age. Maybe a few years younger. Dark pants. A cream silk blouse. Short brown hair. She was holding her purse in front of her with both hands, like a shield.
David stopped about six feet away from her.
“You need to leave,” he said.
She laughed. It was a short, bitter sound.
“Still protecting her, David?”
I walked right past my husband.
“Is this her?” I said.
“Laura—” David started.
I didn’t look at him. I looked at her.
“How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”
The woman stared at me.
And then she laughed again. But this time it was different. Disbelieving. Almost hysterical.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You think I’m his mistress?”
“Then why does my husband know you? Why were you at my daughter’s bakery with him? Why did you call pretending to be Emma?”
“This isn’t the time,” David said behind me.
“No, David.” I spun around to face him. “You’ve had plenty of time. You had all last night.”
The woman took a step toward me.
“Your husband and I are not having an affair,” she said.
“Then why does he know you?”
She looked past me. At Emma, who’d come down the stairs and was standing at the bottom in her bathrobe.
“That isn’t really the question you should be asking,” the woman said.
And then someone spoke from the hallway behind us.
“Don’t.”
I turned around.
Ryan was standing at the edge of the staircase.
My daughter’s fiancé. In his tuxedo pants and an untucked white shirt, with his bow tie hanging undone around his neck. He must have heard the commotion from the groom’s room down the hall.
He was looking at the woman by the door.
And the woman’s whole face changed. All the bitterness drained out of it.
“Ryan,” she said softly.
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers.
At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike.
Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.