Page 40 of Charlotte's Story
“Thank you.” I turned back to face Tessa, my stomach dropping at her tense expression. “What’s wrong?”
She twisted her hands together. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Being straight up about it is usually a good start.”
She blew out a breath, the hard puff of air disrupting her mug’s steam that had been forming into the shape of a snowman. “My brother told me he saw Dahlia and Pastor Collins kissing.”
My hands turned cold. Her words were like the gust of air that blew out a candle, leaving behind just the memory of warmth. “That can’t be right.”
“He’s sure it was them. He saw them outside the church three days ago.”
Her words sucked the air from my lungs, so my next question came out a whisper. “Three days ago?” That was the day before our wedding.
“I’m sorry.” She patted my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I pulled mine free and wrapped both hands around my mug.
“He just told me yesterday. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything after the wedding, but when you called this morning, I figured it was a sign.” She scowled. “Honestly, if we hadn’t already ruled him out, I’d be pulling him in for questioning again.”
I blinked once, like that would somehow alter reality—alter what she’d just said. But no, I was still stuck at the table with Tessa’s pitying gaze pinning me in place.
William had been right after all. He called me frostpetal because I was supposed to be cold and frozen, and he’d shattered my heart as easily as if it were made of ice.
So much for him saying he’d never hurt me.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and the nausea in my stomach. If William was interested in Dahlia, no wonder he’d been so eager to agree to our marriage without affection. Not that I had any right to be upset about it now.
“Are you okay?” She put a hand over mine.
“Of course I’m okay. I didn’t believe in love, anyway.” My voice came out too soft, so I tried to force a smile. “We went into this arrangement knowing it wasn’t that.” So why had I ever let myself believe otherwise? Hadn’t I learned my lesson with Hugh? Men weren’t to be trusted and love was only forfairytales. “I should go.” I pushed to my feet. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
I stumbled back outside where William waited for me. He handed me a cup that smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon. Warmth seeped through the styrofoam into my hand, but it did nothing to thaw the ice in my chest.
“Is everything okay?” He studied my face intently, then tilted his head. “You’re doing that thing where your eyes go distant and your mouth tightens. That usually means something’s wrong.”
“It’s fine.” Except for the small fact that the one man I’d expected never to hurt me had done it anyway. I’d been right not to trust anyone. Never again would I put myself in a position to be hurt.
He frowned, struggling to interpret my mood. “Are you sure? You seem—”
“Let’s find Brexton.” I took off down the street, not looking at him. How could I have been such a fool as to trust him? I’d convinced myself I’d never care for someone like that again. And somehow, William had snuck past my defenses anyway.
He reached for my hand, but I pulled mine away and picked up my pace. I wouldn’t be tricked again. I thought I’d chosen safety. Instead, I’d handed my heart to someone with the power to break it. And he had.
I passed under a few pine trees that chose that moment to shake themselves, dropping the snow from their branches onto my head.
“Are you okay?” William hurried to catch up to me and reached to brush the snow off my head.
I stepped out of reach once more, not looking at him as I continued down the path. “I’m fine.”
It wasn’t fair for me to be so upset. William had told me that there wasn’t love in our marriage, but when he’d said he’dtreasure me just before we walked down the aisle, I’d believed him. But I’d been wrong. And if I’d been wrong about this, what else could I have been wrong about? Maybe William was involved in the murder, and I’d been too quick to cross him off the list because I’d stupidly wanted to believe in him. I chewed on my lip as I walked, William silent beside me. No, that didn’t make sense. Either way, there was a third person there that night. Could it have been Brexton after all?
I needed to refocus. This wasn’t about William anymore. Dahlia deserved the truth—even if it shattered me. I took a slow breath and thought back on my childhood calligraphy lessons. Now, just like then, the truth would come one stroke at a time.
As we walked, I shot a quick text to Tessa’s mom to casually ask what time Tessa had come home the other night before heading into work. It was better to confirm her alibi just in case.
We made it to the church in strained silence. William took in the chapel’s wooden walls, polished pews, and scant Christmas decorations with an approving nod.
“It’s aesthetically pleasing,” he said. “I think we chose an excellent venue for our wedding.”
