I turn to face her, my stomach tightening. The rage that sent Charlie into the fountain threatens to surface again.
“For the best?” I repeat. “Are you serious?”
She meets my gaze without flinching, every inch the Cavendish matriarch. “Daisy is a nice enough girl, but really, hardly the most suitable choice for Sophia’s maid of honor.”
“What in god’s name are you talking about?” I snap.
Mother rears back as if I’ve physically struck her, her eyes wide with shock at my outburst.
I turn my attention back to Sophia, seeing past the white lace and perfect curls to the little girl who used to have more backbone than this. The sister who once punched Tom McIntosh for calling Daisy common in year nine. Who would have never let anyone—not even our mother—dictate her friendships.
I know her well enough to understand that she will come to regret this decision deeply if she does not make amends with Daisy. Just as I’ve come to regret every moment of my own distance.
“Daisy was present at every fitting and every single event. She bent over backward to support you, Sophia. Just as she has always done.” My voice hardens. “And tell me, what have you done for her in return recently?”
Sophia stares at me, stunned, her lips parted.
“Edward,” she breathes, voice thick with hurt. “This is my wedding day.”
“I am well aware of that fact. And I apologize for my timing, but you need to hear some hard truths. It’s better that you hear them now so that you resolve this situation.” I take a step closer, my voice quieter now but no less intense. “Daisy is a very important person in your life and perhaps you need to considerwhether you have taken her for granted. Did you know she fainted on live television two weeks ago?”
She blinks, her mouth dropping open. “What?”
“She fainted. On air. And you weren’t even aware of it, were you?” I exhale sharply, shaking my head in disappointment. “We have all let her down. Every single one of us.”
She makes a strangled noise in her throat, like she wants to argue but has nothing to say.
“Edward, you’re upsetting Sophia!” Mum says.
“She’s clearly already upset by the situation,” I say. “Tell me where Daisy is.”
Sophia’s eyes widen in disbelief. “I-I don’t know.”
“I’m guessing she’s at her mother’s,” Imogen says. She shifts awkwardly. “I was going to wait until after the ceremony, but . . . Daisy was here this morning.” She hesitates, glancing between us. “She gave me this to pass to you, Sophia. A card. She wanted me to tell you that—” She exhales. “That she has no hard feelings and wishes you well.”
“She was with her mother,” Imogen continues, voice careful now. “And she had a suitcase like she was going somewhere.”
My stomach turns to stone.
My god. What if Lizzie wasn’t lying? What if she really is about to disappear off to Mongolia with some damn Spanish Michelin-star-chef-racing-car-driver-model?
I rake both hands through my hair, tugging at the roots as a low, suffering groan escapes me.
I look at my sister.
She looks back, blotchy with tears.
Then, without a word, she slips a bracelet from her wrist.
I recognize it instantly. The woven friendship bracelet Daisy made for her when they were kids. The one she’s never taken off. The one she said would be her “something borrowed” today. The one I remember Daisy crafting with meticulous care, her tonguecaught between her teeth in concentration, determined to get every loop and knot just right.
Sophia presses the bracelet into my palm.
“Go find her,” she says. “Tell her . . . tell her that I’m an idiot. And I’m sorry.”
I clench my jaw. “I can’t go. I’m walking you down the aisle in an hour.”
She shakes her head, shoving the bracelet at me with more force. “You’ll be back with Daisy. Maybe. I at least want you to try. And if you’re not . . .” She smiles softly. “I’m a grown woman. I can walk myself down the aisle.”
