Chapter 1 - The Call After the Wedding
The call came while my husband was folding shirts.
Twelve hours earlier, Julian Cross had slipped a gold band onto my finger beneath an arch of white roses and promised to remain beside me for the rest of our lives. Now he stood across the honeymoon suite in gray trousers and a white dress shirt, packing for our three-night beach trip as if the hardest part of marriage was deciding whether he needed three linen shirts or four.
His mother, Margaret, occupied the only full-length mirror in the room.
She had been studying herself for nearly ten minutes, turning her face toward the morning light and pressing one finger beneath her chin. Her cream silk robe shimmered every time she moved. She had mentioned twice that it cost more than “some people’s monthly rent,” then looked at me as if I should be grateful she had not said mortgage.
“Three nights at the beach,” Margaret sighed. “I still can’t believe it.”
I held the phone against my ear and tried to focus on the woman speaking.
“Mrs. Hart?”
She used my maiden name.
That caught my attention.
“Yes?”
“My name is Laura Medina. I’m calling from the county marriage records office. We processed the license submitted after your ceremony yesterday.”
I glanced at Julian.
He was smoothing the sleeve of a shirt before placing it into his brown suitcase. Socks rolled into pairs. Belt coiled. Shoes wrapped in cloth bags. Calm hands. Perfect order.
“What about it?” I asked.
“There is an issue with one of the supporting documents.”
Behind me, Margaret continued in her sweet, cutting voice.
“A proper honeymoon should last at least two weeks. Italy, perhaps. Or Greece.”
“It’s peak season,” I said automatically. “And Julian has work.”
Julian smiled without looking up. “She planned what she could.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“She always does. Evelyn is very practical. Almost painfully so.”
On the phone, Laura Medina lowered her voice.
“Are you able to come to the office this morning?”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What kind of issue?”
Julian looked up.
Only for half a second.
Then he returned to folding the shirt, but now each crease was too careful.
Laura paused.
“I can’t discuss the full matter over the phone. But the license cannot be certified until you come in.”
My eyes moved to the glass table.
There was the blurred marriage-license envelope, our passports, a straw hat, and the bridal bouquet I had placed on the chair because I could not bear to throw it away yet.
Margaret turned from the mirror with a polished smile.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
I lowered the phone slightly and looked directly at Julian.
“Why did she use my maiden name?”
May you like
His hands stopped.
For the first time since I met him, Julian Cross looked unprepared.
