Your Love Came Late, I Chose Another novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Groom Who Never Comes
His twin comes for Noelle on her wedding morning while Brandon meets his first love at the airport, so she texts another man yes, and when Brandon walks out on the ceremony she tells the guests it's still on as Ronan walks through the gate.
The second the groom stepped out of the white car, I knew it wasn't Brandon.
It was Darren, his twin.
Same navy suit. Same dark hair. Same grin for the photographer.
But his watch was on his left wrist, and when he smiled I saw the chipped front tooth.
I'd been telling them apart for a year and a half.
Nobody else on Rutledge Avenue seemed to notice.
The bridesmaids were squealing. Somebody's aunt was throwing rice too early.
Darren leaned down to my ear while the photographer fussed with my veil.
"Noelle, Brandon ran into something urgent. He'll be there for the ceremony. He asked me to fill in for the carry."
Something urgent.
On his own wedding morning.
Behind him, two groomsmen clinked plastic cups of champagne and kept their voices low.
Not low enough.
"Brandon's got guts. Sending his brother? What if she notices?"
"What else could he do? Tara landed at six-fifty. He's been at the airport since dawn."
"Relax. Noelle's been crazy about him for years. Even if she figures it out, she'll let it slide."
Tara Gilmore.
His college girlfriend. The one who left for Paris.
The one he swore was ancient history the night he proposed.
My eyes burned.
I didn't let anything fall.
I'd spent two hours on this makeup, and I'd paid for it myself.
I smiled for the photographer.
Then I got into the back of the wedding car and took out my phone.
Darren slid in beside me, already scrolling his own.
I opened my contacts and found a name I'd saved a month ago, half as a joke.
Mr. Ashe.
The man who'd argued with me over the last flat of peaches at the farmers' market.
The man who'd told me, a month ago, that his ex-fiancée had a flight booked into Charleston for my wedding morning.
I'd laughed at him.
He'd said, very calmly, "If he picks her that day, don't let them have the day. Marry me instead. Same cake. Same guests."
I typed with my thumb.
"Mr. Ashe, I'd like to move forward with your proposal."
I hit send before I could think about it.
The Kearney family house sat on South Battery, white columns and a black iron gate.
The Kearney carry was the family's oldest tradition.
The groom carried his bride on his back from the car to the gate, and his parents met her there.
Brandon had practiced with me in the backyard, laughing the whole time.
The guests lined the sidewalk, cheering.
I hiked up my lace skirt and climbed onto Darren's back.
He staggered when he stood up.
I felt him catch himself on the gatepost.
"Jesus, Noelle," he muttered. "Ever thought about cutting carbs? Tara weighs about half of you."
I said nothing.
I'd been a size sixteen the day Brandon met me and every day since.
I didn't owe Darren a single pound.
At the gate, Brandon's parents kissed my cheeks and called Darren "son" and never blinked.
Either they couldn't tell their own children apart, or they'd decided not to.
I didn't know which was worse.
At noon we reached the old rice warehouse on the river.
Bree dragged me into the bridal suite and fixed my lipstick with her thumb.
"You are the hottest bride in South Carolina," she said. "Why do you look like you want to stab somebody?"
"I'll tell you in a minute."
The door banged open.
Brandon came in fast, tie crooked, sweat on his forehead.
Bree raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Groom's that nervous?"
He stopped, took a breath, and smiled at me.
"Noelle. You look incredible."
They'd switched jackets in a hurry.
But he was wearing Darren's blue shirt with the button-down collar, not the white one I'd ironed for him last night.
Five hours.
From seven in the morning until now.
Nobody needs five hours at an airport.
I reached up and straightened his tie.
"Maybe," I said. "You've looked better."
A bridesmaid stuck her head in. "We need the ring for the ceremony."
Brandon pulled a velvet box out of his pocket.
Bree grabbed it first and snapped it open.
"Wait. Isn't the Kearney ring the old one? With the little sapphires?"
The diamond inside was huge, square and brand new.
It wasn't the 1910 ring his grandmother wore, or his mother.
It wasn't the one they'd shown me at the engagement dinner.
"The old one got misplaced," Brandon said easily. "I had this made."
"Misplaced," I said.
"Babe. A ring is a ring."
"A ring is a ring?" Bree's voice went up an octave. "That was a family heirloom!"
A groomsman leaned in the doorway. "Come on, look at that rock. Doesn't that show how serious he is?"
The room went quiet.
Everyone looked at me.
Waiting for me to let it slide.
Brandon's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen, and his whole face changed.
"I have to go," he said. "Tara fainted at her hotel. She's alone. Just push it an hour, okay? An hour."
"Brandon."
"She has nobody here, Noelle."
He was already walking.
I followed him out into the garden in my gown.
A hundred and eighty guests turned in their white chairs.
Brandon didn't look back once.
He jogged past the string quartet and out through the side gate, and I heard his car start.
The officiant looked at me.
So did Brandon's mother, from the front row, with her lips pressed tight.
I picked up my skirt and walked to the end of the aisle.
"Everybody stay seated," I said. "The wedding is still at twelve-thirty."
Somebody laughed nervously.
"With who?" a groomsman called.
The garden gate creaked open behind me.
Every head turned.
A tall man in a gray suit stood there with a peach in one hand and his phone in the other.
He held up the phone so I could see my own text on the screen.
"Ronan Ashe," he said to the room. "I'm told there's a proposal on the table."
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