Chapter 4 - The Midnight Confession
When I arrived at Nick’s apartment that evening—the apartment we were subletting until our newly purchased suburban home was ready after the honeymoon—the smell of garlic and rosemary hit me as soon as I unlocked the front door.
Nick was standing at the stove, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tossing penne pasta with grilled chicken and roasted vegetables. Buster, our golden retriever-shepherd mix, was lying on the kitchen rug, thumping his tail lazily against the cabinets.
"Hey, beautiful," Nick said, turning around with a wooden spoon in his hand, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. He walked over to press a kiss against my forehead. "How was the final veil check? Did Rosa get everything squared away?"
I didn't answer right away. I dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl by the door, took off my coat, and sat down on the barstool at the island.
Nick’s smile faded instantly. He knew me too well. He could read the tension in my shoulders from twenty paces.
"Em?" He turned the burner down to simmer and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. "What’s wrong? Did something happen with the caterer? Don't tell me the florist backed out again."
"Nick," I said softly, looking directly into his eyes. "Has Jenna been messaging you?"
The kitchen went dead silent.
The only sound was the low, rhythmic ticking of the wall clock above the refrigerator.
Nick didn't flinch, but his eyes darkened. The breath left his chest in a slow, ragged exhale. He threw the kitchen towel onto the counter, buried his face in his hands, and pressed his palms hard against his eyes.
"God damn it," he whispered.
"Nick."
He dropped his hands. His face looked worn, exhausted, lined with a guilt that didn't belong to him. "How did you find out?"
"Her message requests on your iPad," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the earthquake inside me. "I looked yesterday."
"I should have told you," Nick said instantly, taking a step toward me, his hands reaching out, though he hesitated, unsure if I’d pull away. "Em, please listen to me. I swear on my life, on my grandfather's grave, I never—not for one second—entertained a single word she said."
"I know," I said. "I read your replies. You shut her down. You told her to stop."
Nick exhaled sharply, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "Then why do you look at me like I broke your heart?"
"Because you kept it from me, Nick!" The dam broke, and the hurt spilled over, hot and bitter. "Eight months! She has been poisoning the well for eight months! Telling you I didn't want our future, telling you I was meeting my ex, telling you I wasn't who you thought I was! Why didn't you come to me after the very first text?"
Nick dropped to his knees right in front of my stool, taking my trembling hands in his. He squeezed them so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Because she was your sister, Emily!" he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Because every time she came over here, you’d talk about how you couldn't have survived your dad’s death without her! Because you told me she was the only person from your childhood who truly understood you! I thought... God help me, Em, I thought if I told you your best friend of twenty-two years was trying to hit on me and dismantle our relationship, it would destroy you."
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
"I thought I could handle it," Nick continued desperately. "I thought if I was firm enough, cold enough, she’d realize it was hopeless and back off. I was going to tell you—I swear to you, I was going to tell you the week after the wedding, once the rings were on our fingers and she had no power left. I just wanted you to have your day. I didn't want her madness to ruin the one day you’ve waited your whole life for."
"Nick," I said, leaning down so my forehead rested against his. "She tried to ruin it anyway."
He pulled back, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
I reached into my bag and pulled out the white envelope containing the two hundred dollars. I dropped it into his palm.
"What is this?" he asked.
"That," I whispered, "is the money Jenna gave Rosa yesterday morning. To alter my wedding dress two sizes too small."
Nick stared at the envelope. "She... what?"
"She bribed Rosa to cut the dress down so tightly that I wouldn't be able to breathe," I explained, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat. "She told Rosa that if I looked bloated, miserable, and red-faced walking down the aisle, maybe you’d finally see that she was right about me."
For five full seconds, Nick didn't move. He didn't speak.
Then, the color drained completely from his face, replaced by a flush of absolute, unadulterated fury that I had never seen in him in all our years together. The muscles in his neck corded. His jaw clenched so violently I could hear his molars grind.
"She tried to humiliate you?" he asked, his voice deadly quiet. "At our wedding?"
"Two sizes too small, Nick."
He stood up so fast his barstool skidded across the floor. He grabbed his truck keys off the counter.
"Nick, stop! Where are you going?"
"I’m going to her apartment," he snarled, his eyes blazing. "I am going to end this right now."
"No," I said, standing up and blocking the doorway. "You’re not."
"Emily, she’s a sociopath! She’s trying to sabotage you!"
"I know what she is," I said, putting my hands firmly on his chest, feeling the wild, furious thumping of his heart. "And that’s why you’re not going over there to yell at her. If you go, she’ll play the victim. She’ll cry, she’ll say it was a misunderstanding, she’ll say she was just trying to protect you from a bad seamstress, and she’ll spend the next eight days rallying our mutual friends to turn this into a three-ring circus before our wedding."
Nick stared at me, his chest heaving. "Then what do you want to do? Let her stand next to you at the altar? Let her hold your bouquet?"
May you like
"No," I smiled, though it felt like baring teeth. "We have nine days, Nick. And in those nine days, Jenna is going to learn exactly what happens when you try to burn someone else's house down while standing in the living room."
***
