Second Chance Vows novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Suit

In a bridal shop Tiffany buys Trent a suit with her card and calls the marriage a joke, until Trent shouts his ring is gone and points at Cosima.

"Dad, don't sign anything," I said. "Not one page."

On the line, I heard paper rustle and a man clear his throat.

In my first life he had signed that contract before dinner was over, and ten months later we owed the Kendricks everything we owned.

"Perry, the Kendricks have been our partners for six years," my father said. "Their steel is half our cost."

"Tiffany's father is going to pull out the day she and I fall out, and then you'll have nothing to stand on," I said. "Please. I'm asking once."

Martin Fairchild was not a man who liked being told what to do by his son.

He was quiet so long that I heard the notary say something polite in the background.

Then he said, "All right. Whatever you say. I'll send them home."

I let my head fall back against the seat.

Beside me, Cosima sat very still with her hands in her lap.

The bracelet slid a little on her thin wrist, and she turned it with two fingers.

"Is your father all right?" she asked.

"He will be," I said.

The car stopped in front of Kingsford Bridal on Ninth Street, and my assistant came around to open her door.

I should have noticed the name above the glass, and I did not.

I took her hand and walked her inside.

The first thing I saw was my cousin, standing in front of a long dark suit on a mannequin.

Trent had his hand flat on the lapel and his eyes half shut.

"If Perry wore this," he said dreamily, "he'd look incredible, wouldn't he?"

Tiffany stood at his shoulder with her phone in her hand.

"Don't say his name to me," she said. "He's lost his mind. Honestly, Trent, you'd look better in it than he ever would."

Trent gave a modest laugh. "It costs more than a car. I'm not the kind of guy who gets a suit like that."

Tiffany's whole face softened.

"Don't be silly. If you want it, I'll buy it right now."

She pulled her card out of her purse, and then she saw me.

"Perry? What are you doing here?"

The card went back into her purse so fast it might never have been in her hand.

Her eyes dropped to the woman beside me, and her mouth twisted.

"You brought her to a wedding shop? You're really doing this?"

"Who I marry is my business," I said. "Please be polite to my fiancee."

I picked a white gown off the nearest rack and put the hanger in Cosima's hand.

"Go and try it on. Take your time."

A shop assistant came to her side and took her elbow, and Cosima let herself be led toward the fitting rooms.

She did not look back at them.

Tiffany came and stood in front of me with her arms folded.

"Perry, at dinner I was joking. You can't take a joke anymore?"

A joke.

That word reached somewhere very old.

When we were twelve, three boys in our class had carved words into my desk with a pocketknife.

They had poured a bucket of ice water over my head on the first cold morning of December.

I had told the teacher, and the teacher had shrugged.

"They were just kidding around," one of the boys said. "Who knew he'd cry about it?"

The whole room had laughed, except for Tiffany.

She had walked across the classroom and grabbed the biggest boy by his collar.

"A joke only counts if everybody's laughing," she had said, in front of everyone. "Perry isn't laughing. So it's not a joke."

I had never forgotten it.

I looked at her now, ten years later, and she had become one of those boys.

"Tiffany," I said, quietly, "you were the best friend I ever had."

"Then stop being ridiculous."

"And you've gotten very good at saying the exact thing you once beat people up for saying," I said. "The engagement is over. I'm marrying her."

Tiffany's face went red.

Just then the fitting room curtain opened, and Cosima walked out.

The gown was plain white silk, with a high neck and long sleeves.

It fit her perfectly, and she stood with her chin up and her hands clasped in front of her.

The bracelet showed green against her wrist.

Even without sight, even in a thin sweater and shoes that did not match, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Hm," Trent said. "She can dress up all she wants. She's still plain."

I did not answer him, because I could not take my eyes off her.

I crossed the floor and straightened the hem where it had folded under her heel.

"You look beautiful," I said. "Do you want this one?"

"If you like it," Cosima said, and her mouth moved in a small shy smile.

Trent stepped between us with his arms spread.

"Perry, come on. Everyone knows you love Tiffany. This is a game to get her attention, and she's been patient. She might actually believe you."

Tiffany gave a short, wounded laugh.

"You're standing that close to another woman in front of me?" she said. "I am your fiancee, Perry."

The shop had gone quiet, and the assistants were pretending to fold things.

Trent's hand went to his pocket and patted it.

Then he patted the other pocket, and the front of his jacket, and his face changed.

"My ring," he said. "Where's my ring?"

He spun around so fast that his shoe squeaked on the marble.

"She took it!" he shouted, and his finger pointed straight at Cosima. "The blind girl took my ring!"

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