“May,” she breathes.
TWENTY-NINE
Annie
The elevator doors slide shut,and I jab the button for the bridal suite. I’m clutching my stupid little beaded bag, sweating through my dress, and willing myself not to cry or scream or both at the same time. I need to get to May, and then I need to tear this motherfucker to shreds.
But just as the elevator jerks, a manicured hand catches the doors.
“Wait up,” Elodie chirps, smug as shit, stepping inside with fake fucking innocence. Tom follows, adjusting his cufflinks like he’s walking into a boardroom, not the goddamn reckoning.
You can kick his ass after you tell May, I tell myself.Don’t let anything stop you from getting to May.
“What a coincidence,” the bitch says. “All of us heading up at the same time. Isn’t that fun?”
I don’t answer and focus on taking deep, centering breaths, but I’m shaking like a leaf.
Tom does, though, answer. “So what’s your plan, Annie?” His voice is cool. “You gonna go cry to May? Cause a huge fucking scene?”
My jaw locks.
“She’s not going to believe you,” he says, stepping a little closer, crowding my space with his stupid fucking face and smugness and cologne. Filling the elevator with fear. That Tom is right, and May isn’t going to believe me.
I can see it—her face turning tight, her voice going small. Getting hurt and saying I’ve misread it and it can’t be true, he would never.
But even as the fear tightens in my chest, I know the truth: It doesn’t matter.
It’s not my job to decide what May does. It never should’ve been. Not when we were kids. Not in high school. Not even now. It doesn’t matter if she’s going to be upset.
I’m not here to save her. I’m here to tell her the truth. And this time, she gets to decide what to do with it.
I snap my head toward him. “Fuck you, Tom.”
The elevator dings.
I step out into a perfectly carpeted hallway that smells like roses and furniture polish. My heels are too loud, even through the carpet, my heart punching in my ears, a muffled click-click and a pounding of impending doom. My stomach is a twisted knot, my mouth bone-dry. I barely hear the elevator ding shut behind me.
Tom and Elodie are two steps behind me.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tom says, low and threatening, the kind of whisper that wants to slap. “You’re going to ruin her wedding. Make it the Annie show, like always.”
I whirl around. “Fuck you, Tom. There is no wedding.”
He scoffs, all teeth and superiority. “You think she’s going to believe you? You think anyone will?”
I don’t answer him and turn away before I commit a felony.
Inside the suite, I’m vaguely aware of other things happening—all white chiffon and blush florals, hairspray and champagne, flower girls twirling in sparkly shoes, someone fixing May’s veil,Vanessa touching up lipstick, groomsmen and half empty fruit platters—but it’s all happening outside of the tunnel, and the tunnel is leading me directly to May.
I call out to her, but she turns before I speak.
Her eyes find mine, and something in her face shifts instantly. Alarm and fear. A sister's radar. She sets down her bouquet and takes one step forward. “Annie?”
I shake my head, motioning her over, adrenaline carrying me across the room. “Come here. Please.”
She meets me quickly, her heels quiet on the rug. I tug her to the far corner near the balcony doors, away from the others.
“I need to tell you something,” I whisper, my throat closing around the words. “I just—I just saw Tom and Elodie.”
