System Erased Her From My Memory novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Champagne

Delaney crashes their hotel brunch with Dalton and throws champagne at Maia; Dalton warns Wes about his best friend.

The next morning, the video of our wedding had four million views.

Maia read the comments over her coffee at the hotel restaurant and winced.

"Somebody wrote 'the groom said please go in the nicest voice possible.'"

"I was polite."

"You were polite to a woman who tried to wear your jacket."

The restaurant sat on a glass terrace over the water.

Tables of tourists ate eggs in the sun.

Finn was in the lobby arguing with the front desk about our late checkout.

I had my hand on Maia's knee under the tablecloth and I was planning to leave it there all day.

Then the whole terrace went quiet.

Delaney walked in on a man's arm.

She wore a white sundress, big sunglasses, and the grape-sized diamond.

The man beside her was tall and golden, with a tan and a smile that had clearly been used on a lot of people.

He steered her through the tables straight to ours.

"Wesley," Delaney said brightly. "What a coincidence."

"It isn't," Maia said.

"This is Dalton Rhodes. My fiancé."

She said the word loudly enough for three tables.

Dalton held out a hand.

"Hey, man. No hard feelings, right? I hear you've had a rough year."

I shook it, because I couldn't think of a reason not to.

"Congratulations," I told them. "I hope you're happy."

Delaney's smile twitched.

"That's it?"

"You're engaged. That's what people say."

"We're flying to Santorini in an hour," she said. "I booked the villa for our honeymoon. Eleven days."

"That sounds nice."

"Eleven days, Wes. By the pool. In a very small bathing suit."

Dalton laughed and put a proprietary hand on the small of her back.

I looked at it, and then at Maia's coffee cup, which was nearly empty.

"Do you want more coffee?" I asked her.

"I'd love some."

I raised a hand for the waiter.

Delaney watched me do it.

Her face did something I had no name for.

"Are you going to say anything?" she asked. Her voice had dropped. "Anything at all?"

"I hope the flight's smooth."

"That's what you've got for me?"

"Delaney," Maia said in her calm clinic voice. "He's told you twice. He doesn't remember you. I'm sorry that hurts, but it isn't something he's doing to you."

"Don't talk to me." Delaney didn't look at her. "You don't get to talk to me. You got him on a technicality."

"I got him at a clinic on Clark Street, on a Tuesday, with a headache."

Somebody at the next table snorted into a napkin.

Dalton leaned over and gave Maia a slow, friendly look.

"You know, you're not what I expected," he said. "I thought he'd go for someone flashier. But you've got something."

"Thanks," said Maia flatly. "I've got a husband."

Delaney's breath caught.

She snatched a champagne flute off the nearest tray.

I saw it coming a second before it happened.

I was out of my chair and in front of Maia when the glass tipped.

The champagne hit my chest and ran down my shirt.

Delaney stood there with the empty glass in her hand and a dripping silence all around her.

Phones were up all over the terrace.

"I meant to hit her," she said.

"I know."

"Why did you do that? Why would you stand there?"

I wiped my face with the napkin.

"Because I'd do it for anyone," I said. "Even you."

I watched that land.

For about one second, she looked like a little kid who'd broken something expensive.

Then her chin came up.

"This isn't over," she said, and she turned and walked out.

Dalton lingered.

He picked a bread roll off the table, smelled it, and put it back.

"Sorry about that," he said, pleasantly. "She gets emotional."

"You should go with her."

"I will." He stepped close and lowered his voice so only I could hear. "Here's a free tip, since I like you. Ask your best man where the two of you were the night before the first wedding. Ask him why he's so good at blocking numbers."

My stomach turned cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just ask," said Dalton. "He's the one who's been handling everything."

He smiled and walked out after her.

Maia wiped champagne off my collar with her napkin, frowning at the doorway.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing," I said. "Something about Finn."

"Do you want to ask him?"

I looked across the terrace.

Finn was coming back from the lobby, whistling, with a pair of room keys over his finger.

He caught my eye and held up a thumb.

I raised a hand back.

The voice stayed silent, and I realized I was waiting for it.

"I'll ask him," I told Maia. "Later."

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