People started leaving.
Paige sat with me while my mom called the reception hall.
The food was already cooked. The coordinator said most of it could be packed up and donated to the homeless shelter downtown. But most of our deposits were nonrefundable. The flowers were paid for. The cake was already sitting at the venue.
The money mess would take weeks to untangle.
My phone kept buzzing.
A cousin asking if I was okay. An aunt asking if there’d been some kind of emergency. Somebody from Seth’s family telling me every couple fights and I shouldn’t make a permanent decision while I was upset.
I turned my phone off.
Paige helped me take out my veil. One pin was stuck so tight it took her three tries to get it loose without pulling my hair.
Neither of us said anything until it was out.
Then she whispered, “You know you can be sad about this and still be right.”
I cried even harder.
About forty minutes later, Paige brought my car around to the side door.
I’d decided to go home to my own apartment. Seth and I hadn’t moved in together yet. We’d planned for me to end my lease and move into his townhouse at the end of the month.
For once, waiting had worked in my favor.
My mom offered to take me home with her. But I needed my own space. My own bed.
Paige carried my bag down the hallway. We were almost to the door when Heather came around the corner.
Her eyes were red.
“Natalie. Can I talk to you?”
Paige stepped in front of me a little.
Heather noticed.
“I’m not here to fight,” she said.
I stopped.
Behind her, I could see people clearing decorations off the reception tables through the window. Kids were playing on the church lawn. Maddie was probably out there.
And even after everything, I found myself worrying about what Heather was going to do on Monday.
“What is it?” I said.
Heather looked over her shoulder.
“Seth told me you were going to help because you wanted to. I swear to God, that’s what he said.”
“I believe that’s what he told you.”
She looked relieved for a second.
“But you should’ve asked me, Heather.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her face.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“About a year ago, Seth’s truck broke down.”
I frowned. “I know. The engine went.”
“Did he tell you how he paid for it?”
“He said he’d been saving up.”
Heather closed her eyes.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
“Natalie. Did Seth ever tell you he borrowed money from me?”
“No.”
“Six thousand, four hundred dollars.”
I stared at her.
“He owes you sixty-four hundred dollars?”
She nodded.
“And three weeks ago, he told me he’d found a way to pay me back.”
A cold feeling settled into my stomach.
“What way?”
Heather looked down at my wedding gown.
Then she said, very quietly, “I think you need to sit down.”
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
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