Her Fiancé Sent His Twin, She Chose the Brother She Loved novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: A Rehearsal

At Sal's bedside Nadia and Victor say pretend vows and sign the license for his sake, a stairwell kiss is dodged with a joke, and the chaplain announces she is filing the paperwork by nine.

Victor didn't ask me.

He stood at the foot of his father's bed and did what he always did, which was find a joke and hold it up between us.

"Dad, the last time you asked me to do something at four in the morning, I drove to Newark for a cheese."

"It was a very good cheese," Sal said.

"This is not a cheese."

"No. It's a favor." Sal turned his head on the pillow to me. "Nadia, I'm not asking you to marry anyone."

"That's a relief," I said.

"I'm asking you to stand there for two minutes and say words to a man who'll mean them. You're both very good at pretending."

"Dad," Victor said.

"I know it's pretend, Victor. I've decided it's a rehearsal."

Sal closed his eyes.

"I've never seen either of my sons do anything with his whole heart," he said. "I want to see one of you try it before I go under."

The monitor drew its green hills.

I looked at Victor.

He looked at the floor, and then, after a beat, at me.

"You can say no," he said. "It's a terrible idea. He's on a lot of medication."

"I heard that," Sal said.

I thought about writing options, but I was tired.

Sal was the first Aston who had taken my side, when I was twenty-four and nobody at the company knew my name.

"Okay," I said. "Two minutes."

Sal smiled with his eyes still closed.

The nurse found the chaplain in less than five.

She was a small woman in a cardigan with a lanyard around her neck.

She carried a worn blue book and a pen shaped like a carrot.

"I'm told there's a ceremony," she said.

"A rehearsal," Victor said.

"A rehearsal. I love those." She looked at Sal. "Mr. Aston, are you sure you want me doing this at 3:30 in the morning?"

"Do it fast," Sal said. "I have an appointment."

She turned to me.

"Do you have anything official? Some people like to sign something. It helps the mood."

I had the white envelope from Domenic's assistant in my clutch.

She had pressed it into my hand at the party and said, "Hold this, it's trust paperwork."

It was our marriage license, three weeks old and valid for sixty days.

I hadn't opened it since.

"I have a license," I said. "For a different man."

"Good enough for a rehearsal," the chaplain said, and slid it out.

She read the top line and squinted.

"It says D.V. Aston."

"That's his brother," I said.

"Close enough for a blessing."

"Close enough," Sal said.

We stood on either side of the bed with the heart monitor between us and Victor's father pretending not to cry.

The chaplain opened her blue book and went through the first page in a murmur.

Then she said, "Vows. Short ones. He's got a surgery."

Victor went first.

He pushed his hair behind his ear, and I saw his hand shake.

"I promise to remember what you tell me once," he said.

I breathed in.

"I promise three minutes, no sugar and the lemon on the side," Victor said.

"I promise to say things to your face instead of to a coat rack."

He took a breath.

"And I promise that when you look at me, I won't look at your shoulder first."

I couldn't speak for a second.

He had said it plainly, in a hospital room, with no joke at the end.

"Nadia?" the chaplain said.

"I promise to write three options for everything," I said.

Sal laughed with his eyes shut.

"And I promise," I said, "that if I ever pick Option C, I'll tell you to your face first."

"What's Option C?" Victor said.

"Whichever one I haven't picked yet."

"You may kiss the bride," the chaplain said, "though I'll accept a cheek."

"A cheek," Sal said. "I'm having surgery."

Victor leaned in.

His mouth landed on my cheek, just beside my ear, and stayed there for a moment longer than a cheek needed.

My pulse went wild.

"Sign here," the chaplain said, and moved the carrot pen toward us.

I signed the line marked for the bride.

Victor took the pen and wrote his name on the line below.

His handwriting was small and neat, and he wrote V.D. Aston with a full stop after each letter.

"Done," the chaplain said, and slipped the license back into its envelope. "That was lovely."

Sal opened his eyes.

"That," he said, "was the best wedding I've ever been to."

The orderlies came in at 4:15 and wheeled him out for prep.

He lifted two fingers as he passed me, and I touched them.

In the corridor, Domenic had his back to the glass, still nodding at his phone.

He did not turn around as the bed rolled by.

I walked away from that sight and found the stairwell door.

The fluorescent light on the landing hummed.

I leaned against the cold wall with my shoes in my hand, shaking.

The door opened, and Victor came in and let it close behind him.

"I wanted to say something," he said. "I didn't mean the vows as a joke."

"I know."

"Which part?"

"All of it." I looked at him. "You said three minutes. You said it right."

"I've watched you stir that tea for years."

He stood one step below me, which put our faces level.

I looked at his mouth.

I didn't plan to, and he saw it, and I saw him see it.

Neither of us moved.

"Nadia," he said.

"Yes."

"I have a rule about kissing a woman in a hospital stairwell at four in the morning."

He cleared his throat.

"It's in the employee handbook," he said. "Section nine."

"That's a joke," I said.

"It's a dodge." He almost smiled. "I'm aware."

"Add that to the handbook."

"I will."

I picked my shoes up off the floor.

"Thank you for the tea," I said, and went down the stairs ahead of him, because I didn't want him to see my face.

At the elevator the chaplain was waiting with her lanyard and her carrot pen.

"There you are," she said. "I'm walking the paperwork over to the registrar's drop box now, with the morning batch."

"What paperwork?" Victor said.

"The license. It'll be filed by nine." She beamed. "You're all set."

"Great," I said, because I was too tired to hear her.

The elevator opened, and I got in.

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