Page 101 of Threaded Lies

Too much expense for a ruse of a wedding. The guilt eats at me. The panic claws at me.

Chad links his fingers with mine and stares down at our joined hands. “I know. I agree.”

“We’re being watched, aren’t we?”

“We are.” He looks at me and gives me the same half-smile he used to when we were little and he was going to share his juice box with me. “I’m sorry you’re in this situation. I’m sorry Rhett put us there. I’m sorry … about so many things. I’ll do whatever it is you want to. Just tell me what you need.”

“It’s not your fault.” But it is. If he weren’t a sad little puppy dog wishing for my love, accepting this ruse of a wedding in the hopes for more, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.

“No, but I had a hand in it.” He gives a reticent shrug. “Let me talk to them?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I’m thinking if I want to remain alive, then I should ask for them to come out here instead of risking going inside and seeing any dresses.”

“If you know what’s best for you, yes.” But the comment makes me smile as he motions for our moms to come outside. Clearly they were watching us because within seconds, they are standing before us.

“Chad. What a pleasant surprise,” my mom says.

“Emmaline, she knows you called me,” Chad says, to which my mom responds with her lips parted in an O.

“Yes, well, us mothers do what we need to do,” my mom says and squeezes my hand while her other is still linked with Florence’s.

“So here’s the deal,” Chad says. “We love you. We love that you want this to be the biggest, most talked about wedding on the East Coast, but it’s out of hand and nothing near what we want.”

“Chadwick—”

“Mom, I’m talking,” Chad says in a rare show of defiance to his mother. “There will be no private-label wine. There will be no drone show or fireworks display. There won’t even be Maine lobster. And this one’s going to gut you, but there will be no yards and yards of taffeta or tulle or whatever the heck you want for a wedding dress for Rowan. There will be what she wants. Hell, she’d look stunning in a paper bag, and if that’s what she chooses, then I’m 100 percent behind it. This is supposed to be about us and not how much money you can spend. Is that clear?”

“Wow,” my mom says softly, putting a voice to how Chad’s words make me feel in this moment.

“Are we all on the same page, then?” he asks. “Because if we’re not, Row and I will elope and that will make no one happy but her.”

“He’s going to make such an incredible husband,” my mom says to Florence. “Standing up for his wife like that. Being the voice of reason.”

“I’ve never been prouder,” Florence says. “My goodness. That speech gave me goose bumps.”

“We’ll let you have a few seconds to yourself,” my mom says, her smile proud as the two of them shuffle back into the boutique.

Chad looks at me and nods. “Better?”

My smile is half-assed but there. No. I’m not better. I still have to follow through with this to get my inheritance. “Thanks.”

“You can do this.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I hear burlap is the new satin.”

I throw my head back and laugh.

And it feels so damn good before I draw in a deep breath and enter the bridal boutique, already knowing that our moms have told the specialists in there to put away all the dresses they’ve already pulled for me.

THIRTY-NINE

Holden

It’s a gut punch to see her in the dress.

The ridiculous amount I had to pay the salesclerk for the code to access the outside door to get in here was more than fucking worth it to see Rowan like this.

She’s breathtaking in it.