Chapter 3 - The Unraveling
Caleb moved the phone effortlessly out of her reach, stepping backward with an athletic grace that made Mallory look clumsy and desperate as she stumbled over the hem of her sage-green bridesmaid dress.
"Don't touch me," Caleb warned, his voice dropping an octave into pure menace. "Don't even breathe in my direction."
Mallory caught herself against the dresser, knocking over a crystal vase. Water spilled across the polished mahogany, soaking into silk ribbons and hairpins. She was hyperventilating now, her mascara beginning to run in thick, ugly tracks down her cheeks.
"You think you're so smart, don't you?" she spat, glaring at Caleb with pure venom. "You think you're some white knight saving plain, boring Lauren? You're a fool! She doesn't have the fire I have! She's a glorified accountant! In five years, you'll be bored out of your mind, sleeping with your secretary, wishing you took what was offered to you last night!"
"Mallory, shut your mouth!" June barked, stepping up beside me. June had known us since middle school; she had watched Mallory steal my clothes, my boyfriends, and my credit card numbers for years. "You are a pathetic, narcissistic parasite. Get the hell out of here before I drag you down those stairs by your bleached hair."
"Girls, please!" Mom wailed, wringing her diamond-encrusted hands. "We have twenty-five minutes! Lauren, what are you going to wear? We can call the boutique downtown. Maybe they have an off-the-rack sample—"
"There's no time for a boutique, Mom," I said, my voice dead and cold. I looked down at the ruined gown. The intricate floral lace that I spent seven months searching for was saturated with oily black liquid. It looked like roadkill on snow.
A heavy, aching sorrow began to settle in my chest, threatening to pull me under. This was supposed to be my day. Just one single afternoon where I was celebrated, where I wasn't secondary to Mallory's latest breakdown or Mallory's latest artistic exhibition. And she had ruined it with fifty cents worth of dye.
Caleb stepped behind me, placing his hands firmly on my bare shoulders. His touch was grounding, cutting through the rising panic like an anchor in a storm.
"Look at me, Lauren," he whispered gently.
I turned around, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. "Caleb, the wedding... it's over. I can't walk down the aisle looking like a horror movie."
"Who said you're wearing that?" Caleb asked, a faint, conspiratorial smile touching his lips.
Mallory sneered from across the room. "What, did you bring a spare wedding gown in your pocket, Caleb? Be realistic. The ceremony starts at four. She's ruined. It's done."
"I told you last night, Mallory," Caleb said without looking at her. "I know who you are. And I knew what you were capable of."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his second phone, and pressed speed dial.
"Marcus?" Caleb spoke into the receiver. "Bring the trunk up to the bridal suite. Now. Use the service elevator."
Mom looked bewildered. "What trunk? Caleb, what did you do?"
May you like
"When Mallory threatened to ruin Lauren's dress last night," Caleb explained, his eyes never leaving mine, "I didn't just record her. I called an old friend in Manhattan. A designer who owes me a few favors."
My breath hitched. "Caleb... what did you do?"
