I Was Counting Down To Leave Him novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Seven Days
Flora finds Langston pinning her wedding dress on Lydia, gives them the dress and the rehearsal, and quietly counts down to leaving.
Seven days before the wedding I had planned for three years, I walked into the bridal suite and found my husband kneeling on the fitting platform.
Langston was pinning the hem of my wedding dress, a pincushion on his wrist, humming our courthouse song.
Lydia Beaumont was wearing it.
She stood in front of the mirror with one hand on his shoulder.
My handwritten vows lay open on the vanity behind them.
"Her sample gown tore in the elevator," Langston said before I could speak. "Lydia offered to stand in for the lighting test."
He stayed on his knees and waited for me to react.
A year ago, I would have told Lydia to take it off.
I would have asked why he had skipped my final fitting but had time to kneel for hers.
Then I would have cried, and he would have said I was making a scene.
Today I only looked at the dress.
"Does it fit?" I asked.
Lydia's smile slipped. "Almost."
"Then keep it."
Langston's hands went still on the hem. "What?"
"The dress. It's yours, Lydia."
She stepped off the platform, holding the skirt in both fists.
"Flora, please don't misunderstand. Langston was only helping me."
In the mirror, she was still wearing my veil.
"I understand. You look lovely."
Langston stood up. For the first time that day, he looked unsure of himself.
"Flora, stop. What is this?"
I picked up the rehearsal schedule from the vanity and handed it to Lydia.
"The lighting test is at two. Since you're already dressed, you can lead the rehearsal too."
Lydia glanced at Langston before she took it.
He didn't stop her.
When I turned for the door, he followed me into the hall.
"You're giving her your rehearsal?"
"She knows what you like."
"That isn't the point."
"Then what is?"
He opened his mouth and nothing came out.
Last spring, Lydia had changed our dinner reservation from three seats to two.
I had called him six times that night.
He had told me to stop competing with his oldest friend.
The next morning he brought flowers and promised she would never come between us.
Two weeks later, she was wearing his jacket at another dinner.
I had stood in our bedroom and begged him to understand why it hurt.
He had looked exhausted. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"
Now there was no fight, and he should have been relieved.
Instead he caught my wrist. "You're angry."
I eased my hand free. "Would you rather I asked her to take it off?"
"She's only trying to help."
"Then let her."
The elevator opened. Langston stayed in the hallway while I stepped inside.
That afternoon I introduced Lydia to the florist, the bakery, the band and the rental manager. I gave her the ceremony timeline and the photographer's shot list.
She took everything gladly.
Langston watched from across the lobby. When Lydia went to find the florist, he came over.
"You're really letting her run all of this?"
"She seems happy to."
"You spent months on it."
"The plans are done. She only has to follow them."
Three years earlier, we had married at the courthouse.
My mother was in chemotherapy then, and his first hotel was weeks from closing.
Our wedding savings went to her treatment and his payroll.
I signed the folder he slid beside the marriage license, right where he pointed, because he was late for a supplier.
He promised me a real wedding when things got better.
Saltmarsh House was supposed to be that promise.
Instead he had folded our wedding into his hotel opening.
Reporters would fill the front rows, along with the investors funding his next property.
My company, Marden Events, ran the whole weekend.
Twelve people had worked on it for months, and I meant to see every one of them paid.
At four, Langston set a coffee beside my laptop. "Your usual."
My name was on the cup in his handwriting, with a small heart after the last letter.
He used to draw one whenever he thought I was angry.
"Thank you," I said.
He waited. I kept typing.
When he came back, the foam had collapsed. "You didn't drink it."
"I forgot."
"I'll get you another."
"No need. Lydia is waiting on the florist list."
His fingers stayed around the cold cup. Then he carried it away.
That evening I went back to the bridal suite for the last stationery box.
My wedding dress was gone.
Only one bent silver pin lay under the platform. I dropped it in the trash and called my lawyer.
"Are the papers ready?"
"Nearly. I'm still going through your contracts with Ellery Hospitality."
I had hired her two weeks ago.
By then I had already decided to leave Langston.
I only needed to make sure my employees did not pay for my marriage ending.
"Do you want me to stop the wedding?"
I looked at the schedule on my tablet. Seven days of appointments, rehearsals and promises filled the page.
"No. The hotel opens on time, and my team finishes the job."
"And the ceremony?"
I crossed my name off the program.
"That won't need a bride."
When the call ended, I opened the calendar on my phone.
The wedding countdown still read seven days.
Langston thought I was counting down to our wedding.
I was counting down to the day I would leave him.
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