Chapter 16: Something Borrowed

The bridal suite on the ninth floor smelled of hairspray and coffee.

Hannah sat in a white robe in front of a lit mirror while the stylist pinned up the left side of her hair.

Annette was on the sofa with her shoes off, eating a croissant over a napkin.

"Hold still," the stylist said.

"I am holding still," Hannah said. "My head is moving on its own."

"That's called nerves, honey."

"It's called my family."

Annette snorted into her croissant.

It was nine in the morning, and I had been awake since five, rereading the hotel's email and deciding not to answer it.

Hannah caught my eye in the mirror.

"I asked her to come," she said.

I knew who she meant.

"Hannah."

"I asked her last night, after you were asleep. I said ten o'clock, alone, and no speeches."

"Why?"

"Because I'm getting married today, and I'm not going to spend the morning not knowing what she'll do."

"Is that wise?"

"No," Hannah said. "But I want to say it to her face."

At eight minutes to ten there was a soft knock.

Cynthia stood in the hall in a pale blue suit with a small velvet box in both hands.

She had done her makeup carefully.

She had clearly been awake all night.

"Come in," Hannah said, without turning around.

Cynthia stopped when she saw me in the room.

"I'd hoped it would be just us."

"I'd hoped you'd be on time," Annette said, "and look how that went."

Keep reading free with an account. Start I Paid for the Wedding, So Who Was Mother of the Bride? from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.