Chapter 1
Iris
“Who wants thelast pour?” As Tatiana asks the question, she holds up a nearly empty bottle of pricey champagne—the third of three she brought as her contribution to tonight’s pre-wedding sleepover.
To celebrate my last night as an unmarried woman, my four bridesmaids—my two college besties, Tatiana and Kaylee; my best friend since grade school from here in Orchard Blossom, Harper; and Brandon’s nineteen-year-old little sister, Delilah—have come to my dad’s house, the modest, cozy home where I grew up, for a good, old-fashioned slumber party.
To give us some privacy for our girls’ night, and to free up the necessary beds, my dad and brother kindly went to sleep at our town’s biggest and only hotel for the night. Dad and Atlas said they were happy to do it, though, since the hotel is where my groom is hosting a “boys-only” poker party tonight. Classic Brandon.
“Iris?” Tatiana, our bartendress for the evening, says, tilting the neck of the champagne bottle toward me. “As the bride, you’ve got dibs.”
I shake my head. “That’s the best champagne I’ve ever had, but I don’t want to risk feeling the least bit hungover tomorrow.”
“Well, if no one else is gonna drink it,” Kaylee, our resident party girl, says, “then I will.”
“Yes, we’re well aware you’ll drink it, you lush,” Tatiana teases. “I figured I’d offer it to thebridefirst.”
Laughing, Kaylee addresses Delilah, my shy soon-to-be sister-in-law. “You want to split the last bit with me?”
“No, you go ahead,” Delilah replies. “I’m an even bigger lightweight than Iris.” To emphasize her point, she rises from the couch with a big stretch. “It’s bedtime for Delilah, ladies. Alcohol always makes me sleepy.” She grins at me. “No need to be quiet when you come in, Iris. I can sleep through anything, especially when I’ve been drinking.”
“I’ll be in soon. I want to get lots of beauty sleep for tomorrow.”
After Delilah disappears into the short hallway, my three best friends and I lean in and whisper about how adorable she is and how lucky I am to be gaining a sweet sister in addition to a husband.
“Hey, Iris?” Delilah says, poking her head back into the living room. “Can I borrow some toothpaste? I left mine at the hotel.”
“There should be some in my toiletry bag, which is sitting on top of my suitcase for Hawaii.” Brandon and I will be taking an early-morning flight to our honeymoon the day after tomorrow’s wedding, so we packed separate bags for that portion of our travels.
Delilah thanks me and leaves again, and conversation in the living room resumes, this time about the schedule for the Big Day tomorrow. But midway through our conversation, Delilah reappears with a confused look on her face and a cell phone in her hand.
“Did my brother leave his phone here?”
I don’t recognize the device in Delilah’s hand. At least, not from here. “No, Brandon’s definitely got his phone. He’s been texting me all night.”
Delilah hands me the thing, which is turned off, and resumes her prior spot on the couch. But even close up, I don’t recognize the mysterious device. “Where was it?”
“In Brandon’s toiletry bag. I assumed the bag was yours, but when I found a bottle of aftershave in a pocket with this phone, I realized my mistake.”
My brow furrowed, I press the phone’s power button, and it lights up and springs to life.
“Could it be a work phone?” Delilah asks innocently.
Panic slams into me. After almost seven years with Brandon, the last four spent living with him in a small apartment in his hometown of Denver while he’s worked at his father’s insurance firm, I’d definitely know it if Brandon had a work phone. My extroverted husband-to-be didn’t take his studies all that seriously at UCLA, but once we got to Denver, he became a veritable workaholic. These days, my hardworking fiancé is always on his phone with clients and running off to after-work drinks with potential ones.
Oh my God.
Suddenly, things I’ve always considered innocuous seem horribly suspicious in this context. When we got to Denver and Brandon started working such long hours at his father’s firm, I was thrilled to support his newfound work ethic and passion, especially after Brandon proposed last year and started talking about working hard forus.For our future. For the family we’re both excited to build one day. God knows my salary as a preschool teacher isn’t going to buy us a house any time soon. But now, thanks to this foreign phone in my hand, I’m seeing everything through a new lens. Was Brandonreallyout schmoozing potential clients all those nights he came back home late from work tasting of whiskey and bragging about landing a big new account?
No, don’t jump to conclusions, Iris.There must be a logical, innocuous reason for Brandon not to disclose this mysterious phone.He could be holding it for a friend, for instance. Or planning a big surprise for me in Hawaii, so he got a secret phone to handle all necessary arrangements.
My spirit sinks. For what purpose would Brandon keep a phone tucked away in his toiletry bag for a friend? Also, Brandon’snever arranged anything romantic for me, big or small, throughout our many years together, so it’s hard to imagine him planning a honeymoon surprise for me in Hawaii. But even if Brandon did do something totally out of character like that, I can’t fathom it’d be anything elaborate enough to require a secret phone to safely arrange it.
Even when proposing to me, Brandon only spontaneously blurted the idea one random Tuesday night following our weekly dinner with his parents. During the meal, Brandon’s imposing father had asked his son, “So, Brandon, what’s next for you two, after all these years? Marriage, I hope?” And the next thing I knew, during our short drive home, Brandon was saying he thought the timing was finally right for us to get engaged and start planning a wedding. “We’ll go ring shopping together this weekend,” Brandon suggested, at which point I gleefully shrieked, “Yes!” And that was that. We got the ring that very weekend, exactly as Brandon had suggested, and we’ve been happily engaged ever since. Or so I’ve thought till a moment ago, when Delilah handed me this mysterious phone. Now, I can’t deny I’m rapidly questioning everything.
“Maybe he’s holding the phone for someone else?” I venture weakly, hoping the theory sounds more plausible when spoken aloud. But when I look at the faces of my three best friends, it’s plain to see they’re having worst-case-scenario thoughts about this phone, the same as I am.
“We need to get into that phone,” Kaylee says, her eyes fixed intently on mine. She’s my most vivacious, passionate friend. And right now, the fire in her eyes is unmistakable.
