Page 1 of Christmas Promises

1

LANEY

The truth was as obvious as the pattern of freckles that mimicked Orion’s Belt on Laney Gray’s left wrist. There it was. As plain and simple as could be. A text exchange between her fiancé and her best friend that went on for at least six months.

And here she was, standing at the window of the wedding venue with Josh’s phone in her hand and her mermaid-style wedding dress with lace made in Italy fitting perfectly well thanks to her mother’s insistence on the carrot and ginger cleanse she’d endured for three days before the wedding. Reading message after message of their clandestine love affair.

She’d accidentally grabbed Josh’s phone that morning instead of her own. Obviously, she’d been distracted and nervous when her mother had come to take her to the salon for her hair and makeup.

The highlights of what she’d read played before her eyes. She could practically see them texting each other, both slumped over their phones, typing desperately.

From Josh: I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know how I’m going to get through another evening with Laney when all I want is to be with you. She doesn’t make me feel like you do. I know this is hard, but I’m going to come through for you.

From Dahlia: We can’t keep doing this. You have to tell her.

From Josh: I hate lying to her, but I can’t lose you. Just give me time to figure it all out. I’ll tell her. I promise I will.

From Dahlia: I can’t stand up there and watch you marry her. You have to tell her. NOW. The wedding’s next weekend. If you love me, you’ll end it.

From Josh: I tried tonight. I really did. The words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth. It’s like kicking a puppy.

From Dahlia: She’s pathetic. Do you really want to be with that limp noodle for the rest of your life?

A rising panic felt like a hand closing around her neck. Josh and Dahlia. Nothing racy. No inappropriate photos. Instead, perhaps worse. Declarations of love. Promises to tell “her” before the wedding weekend began.

Limp noodle. Kicking a puppy.

Laney washer.

Neither hadtoldher anything. Not when Dahlia was helping button the back of her gown or when they were having their hair and makeup done. Nor last night at the rehearsal dinner when touching speeches had been given by other members of the wedding party. Dahlia’s, though? Laney had thought at the time that it sounded a little hollow. A bit fake.

But that was Dahlia. She’d been that way since the first grade when Dahlia had come up to her and said they would be best friends and there was nothing Laney could do to stop it. Dahlia had worn a sparkly pink dress and patent leather shoes and walked into the classroom as if she were on the red carpet, blowing kisses to her parents and giving our teacher that bright, phony smile before sitting at her desk in the front row where she belonged. Maybe their teacher had sensed what she was getting with Dahlia and assumed she’d need her in the front where she could keep a pair of bespectacled eyes upon her.

With Dahlia it was always about appearances. Once in a blue moon Laney saw what she imagined to be the real Dahlia. Insecure. Petty if she didn’t get what she wanted. Jealous. Manipulative.

How the tables had turned. Laney held in her hand evidence that the two people she hoped she could trust were in love, with each other.

At the moment, Laney was alone in the bridal room. Her mother had stuffed her in here while the staff bustled around the wedding venue just below. The Ibis Estate was a coveted wedding venue for the women and men in her parents’ social circle. Typically, it had to be booked years in advance. Somehow Laney’s mother had managed to snag it right after Laney and Josh announced their engagement to their families. Laney suspected her mother may have reserved it years before, just in case. Kind of the way she’d done with the private preschool—getting on the waiting list before getting pregnant seemed a giant leap of faith. Or maybe not. For people like Penelope Gray, assuming everything would work out exactly as one wished was a kind of birthright, given to the beautiful.

Laney continued to stare at the phone, but she no longer scrolled to read further. She’d always been very good at reading comprehension. Dahlia and Josh were in love. Laney was “her.”

A knock on the door caused her to turn. It was her mother, dressed in a beautiful pale blue dress that matched her eyes. Perfectly highlighted blond hair coiffed in an elegant chignon looked as if it would not move even in a strong wind. Diamond earrings dangled from her ears that matched the necklace Laney’s father had given her last Christmas.

Her mother beamed. Laney had pleased her these last few days. Dressing her up like a doll was her mother’s absolute favorite pastime. A wedding weekend was Penelope’s sweet spot.

“Honey, you’re gorgeous,” Mother said. “But your nose is shiny. Let’s put a little more powder on there?”

“It’s not necessary.” Laney could still speak. How strange considering the way her stomach churned, not from the heinous carrot and ginger juice but from a very specific concoction. That of betrayal.

“Why are you shaking?” Mom came to stand next to her, both of them looking out the window at the grand Atlantic Ocean, just doing its thing, ebbing and flowing.

Laney handed her the phone. “It’s not mine. It’s Josh’s. Look at the texts.” More of a sob than words.

Mom paled and drew in a deep, agonizing-sounding breath. When she looked up at Laney, her eyes had darkened to a stormy blue. “No one named after a flower has ever been anything but trouble.”

Laney almost laughed. Her mother could be a pain at times—a nagging, judgmental one—but she was also funny. Laney’s father called it an acerbic wit. Others might describe it more unkindly. Maybe a word that rhymed withwitch. Penelope Gray wasn’t someone people liked. They feared her. Respected her. Enjoyed her? Not so much. Laney felt certain her mother preferred it that way.

Mom cursed under her breath. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this. All these months they’ve been carrying on? All this wedding activity and they’ve been fooling around behind your back?”

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