Chapter 1 Why Did He Lie to Me When He Was Actually with Her?
Emma's POV
I arrived at Eternal Moments thirty minutes early, smoothing down my cream silk blouse for the tenth time. Boston's most exclusive bridal boutique lived up to its reputation—crystal chandeliers, champagne on ice, and private consultation areas that resembled luxurious living rooms rather than retail spaces.
"Ms. Garcia, welcome!" The bridal consultant, Audrey, greeted me with practiced warmth. "You're our first appointment today. Would you like some champagne while we wait for Mr. Reynolds?"
"Just water, thank you." I checked my phone again. No messages from Gavin. "He should be here any minute."
Audrey guided me to a plush seating area. As I waited, my mind drifted back ten years. I was fifteen when my parents died in a car accident. They had been on their way to meet with a potential business partner.
Eleanor Reynolds, touched by my situation, offered to become my sponsor. She arranged for me to finish school at Brookline Academy and set up a trust for my college education. "No child should have their future stolen from them," she'd said simply.
Gavin was eighteen then, already being groomed to take over the family business. From the beginning, he took a special interest in me. He'd check in regularly, bring me books I mentioned wanting to read, and make sure I had everything I needed. He was always so kind to me.
"Ms. Garcia?" Audrey's voice pulled me back to the present. "More water?"
I blinked away the memory. "Yes, please."
I tried to calm my nerves by focusing on the moment. After ten years of Gavin being in my life and five years of dating, we were finally getting married. The thought still felt surreal.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. I called Gavin, my stomach knotting when it went to voicemail twice before he finally picked up.
"Emma, I'm on my way." His voice was clipped, distracted. "Board meeting ran long."
"The appointment started half an hour ago," I reminded him gently.
"I'll be there soon." He hung up before I could respond.
Audrey approached with a sympathetic smile and a plate of delicate pastries. "Reynolds men and their work ethic. Mrs. Reynolds mentioned the same about her late husband. Perhaps you'd like to browse our collection while waiting?"
I nodded, grateful for her understanding. The Reynolds name carried weight in Boston—Eleanor had probably purchased her own wedding gown here decades ago. I flipped through the catalog, trying not to wonder when Gavin's attentiveness had started to fade.
When Gavin finally arrived, his tailored gray suit was impeccable as always, but his expression was strained. He kissed my cheek—a perfunctory gesture.
"Sorry I'm late. Company crisis." He squeezed my hand, but his eyes darted to his phone. "Shall we get started?"
Audrey led us to the main showroom where five mannequins displayed gowns she'd selected based on our preliminary discussions.
"This first design features hand-embroidered lace from France," she explained. "Perfect for a Reynolds wedding at the Boston Harbor Hotel."
I turned to Gavin. "What do you think? Too traditional?"
He glanced up from his phone. "It's nice."
"And this A-line silhouette?" I prompted, pointing to another gown.
"Also nice." His phone buzzed. He frowned at the screen.
"Mr. Reynolds, is there a particular style you envision for your bride?" Audrey attempted to engage him.
Gavin shrugged. "I trust Emma's judgment. Whatever makes her happy."
I pointed to a simple, elegant design with a sweetheart neckline. "I love this one. I think it would be perfect for our beach ceremony."
"Hmm? Oh, sure. That looks great." His attention was clearly elsewhere.
"I'll try it on then," I said, trying to maintain my enthusiasm. "Don't go anywhere."
He managed a small smile. "I'll be right here."
In the fitting room, Audrey and her assistant helped me into the gown. The silk cascaded over my body like water, and for a moment, everything else faded away. I thought of my parents—how Mom would have cried happy tears and Dad would have pretended not to. I reached into my purse and pulled out Mom's blue handkerchief, the last birthday gift I gave her before the accident.
"Something blue," I whispered, tucking it into the bodice.
"Ms. Garcia, you look absolutely stunning," Audrey gasped. "Mr. Reynolds won't be able to take his eyes off you."
I turned slowly before the three-way mirror, imagining the ceremony. For the first time in months, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Gavin and I could recapture what we once had.
The assistant adjusted my veil while Audrey stepped back to admire the effect. "Perfect. Ready to show your fiancé?"
I nodded, took a deep breath, and walked out to the showroom with careful steps.
The waiting area was empty.
"Mr. Reynolds?" Audrey called, looking confused.
A sales associate approached awkwardly. "Mr. Reynolds received a phone call about fifteen minutes ago. He said it was urgent and had to leave immediately. He asked me to convey his apologies."
My heart sank as I stood there in my wedding gown, the empty space where Gavin should have been more conspicuous than if he'd left a silhouette. I pulled out my phone, white silk rustling around me, and called him. After several rings, he answered.
"Emma, I'm sorry. There's an emergency at the office. One of our major suppliers in South Africa is threatening to pull out."
"You could have told me before leaving." I fought to keep my voice steady. "I'm standing here in a wedding gown with no one to see it."
"It couldn't wait. Send me photos? I'll make it up to you, I promise."
I swallowed my disappointment. "Of course. Work comes first. It's fine."
Back in the fitting room, Audrey asked tentatively, "Would you prefer to reschedule, Ms. Garcia?"
"No." I straightened my shoulders. "Let's continue. I'd like to try the other designs too."
I went through the motions, trying on each gown while Audrey took photos. I chose the first dress—it truly was perfect—and paid the deposit, all while maintaining a composed smile.
"Mr. Reynolds will regret missing this," Audrey said as I prepared to leave. "You're a beautiful bride."
"Thank you for everything today." I gathered my purse, my earlier excitement replaced by a hollow feeling I couldn't shake.
Outside, rain had started to fall. I hurried to my car, clutching my portfolio of wedding dress photos that only I had seen. The drive home felt longer than usual, each traffic light giving me more time to replay Gavin's hasty departure in my mind.
By evening, I was curled up on my sofa with a glass of wine, scrolling through the photos I'd taken for Gavin. I'd sent them hours ago. He hadn't responded. Would he even look at them?
My phone chimed with a text from an unknown number. No message, just an image attachment. Confused, I opened it.
The time stamp read 7:15 PM—just thirty minutes ago. The photo showed Gavin's distinctive silver Mercedes parked outside Boston General Hospital. Gavin was helping Sophia White, his brother's pregnant widow, into the passenger seat. His hand rested protectively on her lower back, his expression one of intimate concern.