Chapter 3 - The Email Address With My Name
I stared at the unfamiliar email address until the letters stopped looking like letters.
It began with my first and last name.
After that came a number I didn't recognize.
I had never created it.
Yet somebody had entered it into Cedar Mill Hall's records as though it belonged to me.
I called Naomi immediately.
“Can you tell me when that address was added?”
I heard her typing.
“April seventeenth. It appears in the revised planning request.”
“Was anything sent to it?”
“Yes. The preliminary floor plan, the updated estimate, and the instructions for confirming changes.”
“Did anyone respond?”
There was a pause.
“Julia, I think you need to see the entire message chain.”
Ten minutes later, it arrived.
I sat at my desk in the engineering office, surrounded by structural drawings and the sound of my coworker adjusting a printer that jammed every Thursday.
On my screen was a conversation I had supposedly participated in.
The first message came from Adrian.
He requested a revised estimate for a double ceremony and shared reception.
The second came from Naomi.
She asked whether Julia had approved the change.
Then there was a reply from the unfamiliar address.
Adrian and I are discussing the details. Please prepare the estimate so we can review the numbers.
It wasn't an explicit yes.
But it sounded enough like cooperation that Naomi had continued planning.
I read the sentence several times.
Adrian knew I wasn't discussing the details.
I had never even heard of them.
At eleven, I called him.
He answered with the guarded friendliness of someone hoping yesterday's argument had expired overnight.
“Hey.”
“What is the email address you gave Naomi?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “Which one?”
“The one with my name on it.”
“Oh. That.”
I waited.
“It's an address I made for wedding planning.”
“Why?”
“To keep vendor emails separate.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you already had too much going on at work.”
I looked at the blueprints scattered across my desk.
“So you created an account in my name.”
“It's not like I was pretending to be you.”
“Someone replied to Naomi from it.”
“That was me.”
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
“You knew she would think it was me.”
“I wasn't trying to deceive anybody. I was managing the arrangements.”
“Then why didn't you use your own name?”
“Because you're listed as the bride.”
He sounded annoyed now.
As though I had discovered an embarrassing filing error instead of a deliberate way around my refusal.
“Did Kelsey know about this?”
“No.”
“Did Wes?”
“No.”
I thought of Kelsey glancing toward Adrian before answering me at the walkthrough.
“Have you told them we're not getting married?”
“I told them we had a disagreement.”
“Adrian.”
“I'm trying not to make everything worse.”
“You keep making decisions for me.”
“Because when I don't, nothing gets resolved.”
That ended the conversation.
I hung up before he could apologize for my inability to appreciate his efficiency.
At lunch, I went to the bank.
Adrian and I had opened a separate savings account for wedding expenses, with both our names on it.
We used it for vendors, deposits, and the things that seemed harmless individually but added up quickly.
Napkins.
Alterations.
Transportation for elderly relatives.
I asked the teller for a transaction history covering the previous three months.
She printed the pages and placed them inside a plain envelope.
I sat in my car and examined every line.
Most were familiar.
Then I found a withdrawal dated May twenty-seventh.
Two thousand four hundred dollars.
The description read Transfer—A. Mercer.
Adrian's personal account.
I had not approved it.
My first instinct was to call him.
Instead, I opened the notes on my phone and made a list.
What I knew.
What I suspected.
What I needed to confirm.
I worked with measurements and specifications every day. When a drawing was wrong, anger didn't correct it.
Evidence did.
That afternoon, I forwarded the account statement to myself and returned to work.
At four, Kelsey appeared outside the office.
I recognized her pale pink cardigan through the glass door.
She was standing beside a silver sedan, holding her phone with both hands.
I almost turned around.
But she had already seen me.
“Julia?”
I stopped.
“I don't want to fight in my parking lot.”
“Neither do I.”
Her eyes were red.
She looked less polished than she had at Cedar Mill Hall.
“I found out you actually canceled.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian said you were taking a few days.”
“He knows what I told him.”
Kelsey looked toward the traffic.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.”
I understood that she was frightened.
I also understood that her wedding was not my responsibility.
“You and Wes can still get married.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Her mouth tightened.
“We lost the deposit on our July venue.”
“Because Adrian told you I agreed.”
“He said he was handling it.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
She looked directly at me.
“I did.”
Something in her expression made me wait.
Then she said, “He didn't tell us about this in May.”
I remembered Naomi's April email.
“When did he tell you?”
“Early April.”
I felt my fingers tighten around my keys.
“What exactly did he say?”
“That you wanted to make the wedding more relaxed. That the four of us could share the day and save money.”
I stared at her.
“That isn't true.”
“I know that now.”
“Did Wes believe him?”
“Wes thought we should ask you directly.”
“Why didn't you?”
Kelsey looked away.
“Because I was afraid you'd say no.”
There it was.
A small truth, spoken without decoration.
She had wanted something badly enough to avoid the person whose agreement she needed.
“I said no anyway,” I replied.
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Kelsey reached into her purse.
She removed a folded piece of cream-colored cardstock.
“I thought you should see this.”
It was a proof for our wedding invitation.
Except it wasn't our invitation.
Across the top, in elegant navy lettering, were four names.
Adrian Mercer & Julia Bennett
Wes Kent & Kelsey Monroe
Below them:
Together with their families, they invite you to celebrate two marriages and one unforgettable evening.
I turned it over.
A printer's notation was stamped across the back.
Proof approved April 22.
My throat tightened.
“Did you approve this?”
“No. Adrian sent it to me.”
“Why are you showing me now?”
Kelsey rubbed her thumb along the edge of the card.
“Because when I asked him yesterday what would happen if you refused to come back, he said we didn't have to cancel the wedding.”
I looked up.
“He said what?”
“He said we could still use the room, the food, the flowers.”
“That isn't his decision.”
“I told him that.”
She hesitated.
“And then he said something else.”
I waited.
Kelsey looked miserable.
“He said most of the wedding had already been paid for by your family, and nobody would lose anything important if we simply changed the names.”
I looked down at the invitation.
May you like
My name was printed beside a man who had apparently been planning my absence before I had even understood why I might leave.
Then Kelsey whispered, “Julia, I don't think he ever intended to give you a real choice.”
