Chapter 2

"I'm ruining everything?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

A cold clarity settled over me.

The band Mark had insisted on, the one Jessica "raved about."

The lemon raspberry cake flavor he suddenly preferred, after Jessica mentioned it was her favorite.

Even the "surprise" honeymoon destination he' d been hinting at, a place Jessica had gushed about visiting last year.

It all clicked.

Every little "suggestion" from Jessica, every sudden change of mind from Mark.

I felt like a fool.

"You know what, Mark?" I said, my voice gaining strength. "You're right."

I turned and walked towards the exit.

The murmurs in the room followed me.

"Sarah!" Mark called, his voice sharp.

I kept walking.

He caught up to me at the door, his fingers digging into my arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he seethed, his face close to mine.

"Don't you dare walk out of here."

His breath smelled of champagne and something else, something cloyingly sweet, like Jessica's perfume.

"Let go of me, Mark," I said, trying to pull my arm free.

"Don't forget," he tightened his grip, his voice a low snarl, "you're the one who wanted this marriage so badly."

His words hit me harder than a slap.

Seven years. Seven years I had poured into this, into him. Believing in the boy who once defended me from a bully in high school.

I wrenched my arm away.

"Enjoy your party," I said, and walked out into the cool Philadelphia night.

My small apartment felt like a sanctuary.

I sank onto the worn couch, the silence a welcome change from the forced cheer of the hotel.

My phone started buzzing almost immediately.

Mark. Text after text.

Where are you?

You' re embarrassing me.

Get back here now.

Then he called.

I let it ring.

He called again. And again.

Finally, I answered.

"If you're not at that church tomorrow, Sarah, I swear to God, I'm calling everything off," he threatened, his voice tight with fury. "The guests, the vendors, everything. It'll be your fault."

A strange calm washed over me.

"Do it," I said, and hung up.

An hour later, there was a loud knock on my door.

I knew who it was.

I opened it to find Mark and Jessica standing there.

Mark looked disheveled, his tie loosened. Jessica looked pale and tear-streaked, clutching his arm.

"Sarah," Mark began, trying for a softer tone. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? About the kiss. It was stupid."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll buy you that expensive stand mixer you wanted for the bakery. The big red one. We can go get it tomorrow morning."

He tried to step closer, to kiss me.

I recoiled as if he' d tried to burn me.

His eyes hardened again.