“That was just—”
“In front of everyone I know.” I looked at him.
“On the first day of our marriage.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“And now my brother is standing here with photographs.” I set the photos down on the cake table, next to the ruined tiers.
“So I’m going to ask you one question.
And I want you to answer me in front of every single person in this room.”
The hall was silent again.
“Who is Daniella?”
—
Ed’s jaw tightened.
He looked at the photos.
Then at Ryan.
Then at my mom, who had sat back down and was staring at the tablecloth in front of her like she was reading something written there that no one else could see.
“She’s no one,” Ed said.
“An old friend.”
“You’re parked outside her apartment three weeks before our wedding.”
“I was dropping something off.”
“At midnight.”
The timestamp.
I’d seen it without meaning to.
Ed’s eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
“You’re misreading the photo.”
“The timestamp says 11:58 p.m., Ed.”
Someone at a nearby table said something under their breath.
A woman near the back started crying — one of my bridesmaids, I realized.
She already knew.
The look on her face told me she already knew.
I turned to her.
“Melissa.”
Melissa pressed her lips together.
Her eyes filled.
“How long have you known?”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I only found out last month.
He told me it was over.
He swore to me it was over and I didn’t want to ruin—” She stopped.
Put her hand over her mouth.
Ed pointed at Melissa.
“She’s exaggerating—”
“Stop.” Ryan stepped forward, and this time his voice was not quiet.
“Stop talking.”
Ed stopped.
Ryan looked at me.
“There’s more.
That’s what the page is.”
I looked down at the folded page still in my hand.
“It’s a lease agreement,” Ryan said.
“A joint lease.
Ed and Daniella.
Signed four months ago.”
Four months ago, Ed and I had been looking at honeymoon destinations.
He’d wanted Tuscany.
I’d wanted the coast of Croatia.
We’d spent a whole Sunday afternoon arguing about it, laughing about it, finally agreeing on Greece.
Four months ago, he’d signed a lease with another woman.
I unfolded the page.
Both names were at the top.
Both signatures at the bottom.
The address was twelve minutes from our new apartment — the apartment I had packed boxes for, carried furniture into, hung curtains in.
I set the page down next to the photographs.
—
“I want you to leave,” I said.
Ed stared at me.
“You’re not serious.”
“I want you to leave this reception.
I want you to go to whatever address is on that lease.
And I want you to think very carefully before you call me, because the next conversation we have will not happen without a lawyer present.”
The room was absolutely still.
Ed looked around — at the guests, at Ryan, at my mom, at Melissa — searching for someone who would step in, someone who would soften this, someone who would give him a way out.
Nobody moved.
“You’re overreacting,” he said, and his voice had an edge to it now, something thin and sharp.
“You’re embarrassing yourself in front of your own guests.”
“You smashed my face into a cake,” I said.
“I think we both know who’s been embarrassing who tonight.”
A man near the back laughed — a short, involuntary sound.
Then silence again.
Ed leaned in close.
Close enough that only I could hear him.
“If you do this now, in front of all these people, I will make sure everyone knows you knew.
I’ll tell them you found out months ago and you married me anyway because you didn’t want to lose the wedding.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Then you’ll be lying,” I said.
“And everyone in this room just watched me find out.
So good luck with that.”
Ed straightened up.
Something moved across his face — not quite shame, not quite anger.
Something that looked, for just a moment, like the realization that he had run out of road.
He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair.
He walked toward the exit.
At the door, he turned back.
“You’ll regret this.”
Ryan was already beside me.
