FIONA GRAND
I heard Nathan's voice before I saw him.
"Yeah, we already got the certificate."
My champagne flute froze halfway to my lips. The chatter of the party faded into a dull roar as I turned, slow and deliberate, toward the alcove where Nathan stood with his parents.
Certificate. The word slithered through me, cold and poisonous.
Vanessa wasn't with him. Of course not. She was probably off preening somewhere, basking in the glow of my life, my future. But Nathan—Nathan looked radiant, his smile loose and happy as he leaned in to show his mother something on his phone.
Was it a picture of the marriage license?
My fingers tightened. Glass bit into my palm.
How dare they?
This wasn't the plan. Nathan was supposed to waver. He was supposed to look at me the way he used to—like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing. Like I was everything.
But no.
Vanessa had sunk her claws in too deep.
