The Red Wine Before the Vows

The red wine hit my wedding dress before I even saw her face.

It spread across the white silk like blood, soaking through the delicate lace my mother had sewn with her own hands before cancer took her from me.

Guests gasped. My bridesmaids froze. And in the middle of my bridal suite stood Vanessa Cole, my fiancé’s ex-girlfriend, holding an empty wineglass and smiling like she had every right to be there.

“You don’t deserve him, Emily,” she said.

“You never did.””

For three seconds, nobody moved.

Then my maid of honor, Claire, stepped between us.

“Are you out of your mind?”” Claire demanded.

“How did you even get past security?””

Vanessa glanced at the wine dripping onto the marble floor.

“Relax. It’s just a dress.””

I stared at her.

“It was my mother’s work,” I whispered.

Something flickered across Vanessa’s face, but it disappeared beneath a careless shrug.

“Then maybe you should have worn something you could afford to replace.””

Claire lunged forward, but I caught her wrist.

Not because I wanted to protect Vanessa.

Because I was afraid that if someone touched her, I would lose the last fragile piece of control I had left.

My wedding dress had taken six months to finish. The silk had been imported from Italy. The lace had been salvaged from my mother's old wedding veil, and I had spent countless evenings sitting beside her hospital bed while she showed me how to stitch each flower into the sleeves.

When she died, I finished the final twelve stitches myself.

I had promised her I would wear it when I married Ryan.

Now a dark red stain was spreading across the bodice, swallowing the little white flowers one by one.

Vanessa watched me touch the ruined fabric.

“You know what’s funny?”” she asked.

“Ryan bought me that exact necklace you're wearing for our anniversary.””

I looked down at the tiny diamond pendant resting against my collarbone.

Ryan had given it to me on our first Christmas together. He'd told me he'd chosen it because the diamond reminded him of a star.

“That's impossible,” I said.

Vanessa laughed softly.

“Is it? Ask him where he was last night.””

The room seemed to shrink around me.

Last night, Ryan had told me he was going to stay at the hotel near our wedding venue because he wanted to follow an old family tradition. His father had done the same before marrying his mother.

He'd kissed my forehead at the rehearsal dinner and promised he'd see me at the altar.

At eleven forty-seven, he'd sent me a message.

Can't wait to spend forever with you, beautiful. Get some sleep.

I'd fallen asleep smiling at my phone.

“What happened last night?”” I asked.

Vanessa reached into her silver clutch and pulled out her phone.

“You should see what your future husband was doing instead of sleeping alone.””

Claire stepped closer.

“Whatever you think you have, show it to the wedding planner and the police. You don't get to walk into someone's wedding and destroy their property.””

Vanessa ignored her.

She tapped her screen, then turned it toward me.

Before I could see anything, the bridal-suite door swung open.

Ryan stood in the doorway wearing his black tuxedo, his bow tie slightly crooked. His best man, Daniel, was behind him.

Ryan's expression changed the instant he saw Vanessa.

His face drained of color.

“What the hell are you doing here?”” he demanded.

Vanessa lowered her phone.

“Hello to you, too, Ryan.””

“Get out.””

“That's funny. You weren't telling me to get out last night.””

Daniel's eyes darted between them.

I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

Ryan crossed the room and grabbed Vanessa's wrist.

“Give me the phone.””

She jerked away.

“Don't touch me.””

“Vanessa, I'm warning you.””

“Or what?”” she snapped.

“You'll tell Emily I'm crazy? You'll tell everyone I made the whole thing up?””

Ryan glanced at me.

For one brief moment, I saw something in his eyes I had never seen before.

Fear.

Not anger. Not confusion.

Fear.

“Emily,” he said, forcing his voice to soften, “please go downstairs with Claire. I'll handle this.””

I looked at the wine staining my dress.

Then at the woman who claimed to have spent last night with my fiancé.

Finally, I looked at the man I was supposed to marry in less than an hour.

“No,” I said.

Ryan blinked.

“What?””

“I said no. I'm not going anywhere until somebody tells me what's happening.””

Vanessa smiled again, and this time there was no uncertainty in it.

“Good. Because I didn't come here just to ruin your dress.””

She unlocked her phone.

Ryan took another step toward her.

“Vanessa, don't.””

That was when I understood.

Whatever she was holding wasn't merely embarrassing.

It was something Ryan desperately needed me never to see.

Vanessa turned the screen toward me.

The first photograph showed Ryan standing outside the penthouse suite of the hotel where he had supposedly spent the night alone.

His arm was around a woman wearing a silver dress.

I recognized the dress immediately.

I'd seen it the previous evening at our rehearsal dinner.

The woman was my sister, Olivia.

And beneath the photograph was a timestamp.

*2:13 A.M.*

My knees nearly buckled.

“No,” I whispered.

Ryan closed his eyes.

Vanessa tilted her head.

“Now do you understand why he didn't want me here?””

I looked at Ryan, waiting for him to laugh, to explain, to tell me there was some innocent reason my fiancé had been photographed with my sister in a hotel corridor at two in the morning.

Instead, he said the one thing that shattered what little hope I had left.

“Emily, whatever Vanessa tells you, don't believe everything you see.””

I swallowed hard.

“Then tell me what I'm looking at.””

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Vanessa swiped to the next photograph.

This one showed Olivia entering the penthouse suite.

Ryan followed her inside.

The timestamp was 2:17 A.M.

I stared at the screen until the numbers blurred.

Then Vanessa leaned toward me and whispered, “That's not even the worst part.””