1
PAISLEY
Knock,knock.
"Sweetheart, are you almost ready?" The forced cheerfulness in Mom's voice was audible through the door.
"Um, almost." I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The woman I saw there looked like me. At the same time, she was different. I didn't usually go for a smoky eye, or a fancy updo, held together with approximately a hundred hairpins.
I definitely didn't go for white satin with a fitted bodice and a huge flared skirt. Or a veil, for that matter. The weight of that sucker threatened to give me a headache.
Or maybe it was the stress of the day.
"I can do this." The whisper was as forced as my mother. Like the words should have ended with a question mark.
Wasn't I supposed to be excited? This was my wedding day. After six years together, Kevin and I were finally getting married. I should have a stomach full of butterflies and nervous excitement.
Instead, I had a stomach full of lead and a feeling of impending doom.
It'sjustnerves, I told myself.
I picked up my phone to take a selfie. Later, I'd upload it to social media.
My followers would want to know what Paisley Graham, model turned actor, looked like on her wedding day. An event we managed to keep more or less secret by hiring out an entire ranch for the occasion. Usually used for farm stays, they were happy to have us. And our guests could spend a few days pretending they were interested in country life, while walking around in cowboy boots made of patent leather.
I was about to put my phone down when a message popped up. I didn't recognise the number. Probably spam. My finger hovered over the delete button. Without knowing why, I opened the message.
Who the hell was sending me a video? If only to delay leaving the dressing room for a minute or two longer, I clicked on the video to start playing it.
Strange that anyone would send me a video of a Morgan Hardwick concert. Maybe they knew I was a fan of the country music star and wanted to give me something to smile about today.
"How are you folks doing?" Morgan asked the audience.
They screamed out in response. The camera panned across the packed stadium, fans with their arms raised, waving. Some with signs with 'I love you, Morgan!' and 'Marry me!' written on them in excited handwriting.
The camera stopped on a couple standing with their arms around each other. Their mouths were pressed together in a passionate kiss. They must have realised the camera was on them, because they broke off and turned to face it.
My heart stopped.
Dropped the same way Kevin dropped out of view, ducking behind other concertgoers. Alena, the woman with him, had the grace to look embarrassed. She hadn't looked like that thelast time I saw her. A couple of minutes ago when she finished getting dressed in her bridesmaid dress.
She was supposed to be my bestfuckingfriend.
I watched the video a couple more times before searching for Morgan Hardwick's tour dates. He played in Calgary a week ago. The same night Kevin was in the city for what he described as his 'small bachelor party.' Just a couple of his closest friends.
Apparently there was a change of plans.
"Fuck." I slammed my phone down on the table in front of me and grabbed hold of the side of the veil. I tore it out, bringing half of my hair down with it.
I wanted to shred the lace, but his cheating ass wasn't its fault. I threw it aside and pushed myself to my feet. Kicked off my ridiculous heels and stepped into a pair of comfortable sneakers instead.
Grabbing my phone and bag, I yanked the door open and hurried out, startling Alena, who stood just outside the door.
"Paisley, what are you—" She must have seen the thunder on my face, because she cut off mid-word and took a step back.
"How long?" I demanded.
The colour drained from her face. "I… I…"
