My mother was pale. My cousin Emma stood frozen near the mirror. Two bridesmaids were pretending not to whisper.
One person was missing.
“Where’s Penelope?”
Emma’s expression changed.
Penelope Shaw had been my best friend since our sophomore year at William & Mary. She had held my hair when I was sick, slept on my couch after her mother died, and cried harder than I did when Maverick proposed.
She had helped choose my dress.
She had planned my shower.
That morning, she had promised to stand beside me when I said my vows.
“She left twenty minutes ago,” Emma said.
“Where did she go?”
“She said she needed air.”
I called Penelope.
Voicemail.
I called again.
Voicemail.
**My groom was missing. His best man was missing. My maid of honor was missing.**
A cold feeling slipped through me.
“The Millbrook Inn,” I said.
My mother blinked. “What?”
“Penelope stayed there last night. Room 237.”
Half the wedding party had stayed at the inn, but Penelope had booked the Honeymoon Suite because it had enough space for the bridesmaids to get ready.
That morning, she had handed me a spare key card.
“I lose everything,” she had said, slipping it into my robe pocket. “Keep this in case I lock myself out.”
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At the time, I had laughed.
Now the memory made the back of my neck prickle.
“I’m going to the hotel.”
My mother stepped in front of me.
“Amy, you should wait. There may be an explanation.”
“There is an explanation. I’m going to hear it from them.”
Linda stared at my gown. “You can’t walk through a hotel lobby dressed like that.”
“Watch me.”
Before anyone could stop me, Aunt Rose rose from the velvet chair in the corner.
At eighty-two, she was tiny, elegant, and more intimidating than most federal judges. She picked up her black purse.
“I’m coming with you.”
My father frowned. “Rose, this is a family matter.”
She gave him a long look.
“It certainly is.”
The ride took eleven minutes.
My father drove. My mother cried silently in the passenger seat. Aunt Rose sat beside me in the back, gripping my hand so tightly that her rings pressed into my skin.
Outside, Virginia horse farms blurred past beneath a cloudless blue sky.
Perfect wedding weather.
When we entered the Millbrook Inn, the lobby fell silent.
A little girl in a red coat pointed at me. Her mother lowered her hand.
I walked past the front desk, gathered my skirt inside the elevator, and climbed to the second floor.
Room 237 waited at the end of the hallway.
I slid the card into the lock.
The light flashed green.
The room was dim. The curtains were drawn. A man’s black suit jacket lay near the entryway.
Maverick’s.
I recognized the silver cuff links I had given him the previous night.
A purple satin shoe rested farther inside.
Then another.
**Penelope’s bridesmaid dress formed a trail toward the bedroom.**
My mother gasped.
My father cursed under his breath.
Aunt Rose whispered, “Lord have mercy.”
I stepped into the bedroom.
Maverick and Penelope lay beneath the white sheets, entwined together.
Asleep.
My bouquet slipped from my fingers.
Maverick stirred first. His eyes opened slowly, then widened when he saw me in my wedding dress.
“Amy?”
He scrambled upright.
“Amy, I can explain.”
Penelope woke with a sharp cry. She looked at Maverick, then at me, and clutched the sheet against her chest.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
“It isn’t what it looks like,” Maverick said.
I expected to scream.
Instead, I became frighteningly calm.
“Explain what?”
Maverick opened his mouth, but no words came.
Penelope’s eyes filled with tears.
“Please listen to me.”
I looked at the woman who had zipped my dress that morning and the man who had promised to spend his life with me.
Then I turned toward my father.
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