She watched Megan slip away too, moving with the deliberate casualness of someone trying not to be noticed. Jess waited a few moments, then followed, her heart pounding against her ribs as she prepared to confront a truth that it appeared, had been hidden in plain sight.
Megan had found a quiet corner near the French doors, partially concealed by a large arrangement of beach roses and sea grass in a blown-glass vase. She stood with her back to the room, one hand pressed against the glass pane as she looked out at the darkening harbor.
"You dated Julian?" Jess's voice came out steadier than she felt, the question hanging between them in the relative quiet of their corner.
Megan turned, startled despite surely having anticipated this conversation. Her hand fluttered to her throat, fingers touching the delicate gold necklace she wore - a nervous gesture Jess had observed countless times during their years of friendship.
“I didn’t expect him to say …” Megan began, her voice carefully modulated to remain private despite the nearby guests. Then she sighed. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”
"Apparently we should have had it years ago," Jess replied, keeping her tone light despite the knot tightening in her chest. "Before my fiancé announced it to our entire rehearsal dinner."
Megan winced, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He's always had unfortunate timing. And apparently even worse judgment after champagne and jet lag." She attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It was nothing, Jess. Just a few dates."
"A few dates that ended with you dumping him?” Jess pressed, watching as Megan's fingers moved to her bracelet now, twisting the delicate chain around her wrist in small, repetitive circles. She was usually far more controlled with her tells - so this nervous fidgeting revealed more than her carefully chosen words.
"That's Julian's interpretation,” she said, her gaze shifting slightly to the left of Jess's face - another tell. "It was nothing really. We both realized very quickly that we weren't compatible."
A server approached with flutes of champagne balanced on a silver tray. Jess took two glasses, handing one to Megan more as a prop than a gesture of goodwill. The bubbles rose incontinuous, delicate streams, like all the questions pushing to the surface of her mind.
"When?" she asked simply.
Megan sipped her champagne, the pause giving her time to compose her response. "About a month before you met him. It was brief - three, maybe four dates in total."
"And you never thought to mention this when I started seeing him?" Jess kept her voice low, conscious of nearby guests. "Not even a casual 'oh, by the way, I actually went out with him once upon a time'?"
“It just … didn't seem relevant," Megan said, her fingers now twisting her bracelet with enough intensity that Jess worried the thin chain might break. "It was so brief, and there was no real connection between us. He was so taken with you anyway, that there was no need to complicate things. He and I were in completely different places in our lives then. He was looking for something serious. I was focused on my career. The timing was wrong."
"The timing," Jess repeated, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "And when he and I started dating, the timing was suddenly right?"
"Everything okay over here?" Julian's voice broke through the tension as he approached, champagne glass in hand and blissfully unaware of the undercurrents between the two women. He slid an arm around Jess's waist, his touch warm through the silk of her dress. "You're missing the excellent shortcake, Meg. The strawberries are from a local farm - picked this morning, according to our host. Nice guy, very professional,” he added smiling at Jess.
She stiffened, though her smile remained fixed in place while Megan ran a hand through her hair. “Looks delicious,” her friend enthused. “I was just about to find my plate."
The easy exchange between Julian and Megan - as if they were simply mutual acquaintances with no complicated history - made something twist uncomfortably in Jess's stomach. How many similar conversations had they had over the years? How many casual interactions had she witnessed without understanding the context?
"I need some air," she blurted abruptly, pulling away from Julian's arm. "It's warm in here."
Without waiting for a response, she moved toward the French doors, slipping through them onto the stone terrace before either Julian or Megan could follow.
The evening air hit her like a blessing - cooler now that night had fallen, carrying the mingled scents of salt water, beach roses, and distant rain. Jess moved back to the balustrade, gripping the rough stone with both hands, much like Nadine earlier, as she took deliberate breaths, trying to slow the racing of her thoughts.
The harbor stretched before her, moonlight tracing a silver path across the dark water. Boat lights twinkled along the horizon where the island's edge met the vast Atlantic. The rhythmic sound of waves against the shore below provided a counterpoint to the muted celebration sounds drifting from inside - laughter, clinking glasses, the gentle hum of conversation continuing without her.
"You okay?"
The voice startled her, though of course she recognized it immediately. He stood at the far end of the terrace, adjusting table settings for tomorrow's breakfast service, the meticulous attention to detail so characteristic of him.
"Perfect," she lied, the word tasting false on her tongue. "Just needed some fresh air.”
Logan studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable in the dimmed terrace lighting.
"Air's better down by the water," he said, gesturing toward the wooden steps that led from the terrace to the beach path. "If you're looking for actual breathing room."
The offer was neutral, completely professional - venue manager suggesting a quieter spot to a stressed bride.
But Jess knew that it was much more than that.
Before she could respond, a door opened, spilling golden light and the sound of celebration onto the terrace. Julian followed, silhouetted against the brightness from inside.
