I Made My Fiancé's Mistress My Bridesmaid

I've known Nathaniel Prescott for twelve years. We dated for ten of them.

Two months ago, we signed our marriage license at City Hall. The wedding is set for December. In the right Manhattan circles, people still call us a love story worth envying.

He's the heir to the Prescott Hotel Group. Handsome. Rich. And he always made time for me.

At least, he used to.

On the day we got our license, he held my hands on the courthouse steps.

"Quit the firm, Audrey."

I laughed. "Quit? I just landed the Tribeca loft project."

"You've been running yourself into the ground for years." He brushed his thumb across my knuckles. "Stay home. Plan the wedding. Let me take care of you for once."

I cried right there on the steps. I honestly thought I must have saved a whole village in a past life to end up with a man like him.

Looking back, I should have waited a little longer before deciding that.

---

It started with a phone.

We were having dinner at home. Seared salmon, a bottle of Sancerre, candles I'd lit because I still believed in that kind of thing. Nathaniel's phone sat face-down beside his plate.

I reached past it for my water glass.

His hand slammed down on the phone so fast that his wine glass wobbled. Pale gold sloshed up the side and almost went over.

We both froze.

"Sorry." He laughed and steadied the glass with two fingers. "Big news coming from the office tonight. I didn't want you to bump it by accident."

I picked up my water and took a slow sip.

"Nate, I know the difference between a phone and a glass."

"Of course you do." He flashed the grin that had worked on me since I was nineteen. "I'm just jumpy. The Miami acquisition is a mess."

"Mm."

I cut into my salmon. He cut into his. Neither of us said anything for a while.

Ten minutes later, the phone buzzed once. He glanced at the screen, and his face changed. It was quick, the way a door shuts quietly when someone doesn't want you to hear it.

"Bathroom," he said, already standing.

He took the phone with him.

When he came back, his hair was damp at the temples, like he'd splashed water on his face.

"Babe, I have to run over to the hotel. Something came up with the night manager."

"Now? It's almost ten."

"I know. I'm sorry." He leaned on the back of my chair. "It's a staffing thing. You know how they get without me."

I didn't argue. I went to the hall closet and got his navy overcoat, then held it open while he slid his arms in. I even fixed his collar.

"Drive carefully. The roads are slick."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

He kissed my cheek. His lips were cool.

I smiled and waved from the doorway until his taillights disappeared down the block. Then I walked back to the table, pulled a napkin from the holder, and wiped my cheek.

Then I wiped it again.

My stomach turned. I didn't know why. I just stood there in the candlelight, feeling sick.

---

The next few days, he got busier.

He came home after midnight, smelling of a perfume I didn't own. Something sweet and powdery, like vanilla mixed with crushed flowers.

"New cologne?" I asked one night from the bed.

He was already halfway to the bathroom. "Hm? Oh. Probably the lobby diffuser. Marketing changed the scent."

"Marketing's been busy."

"Everyone's busy, Audrey."

The bathroom door clicked shut. A second later, I heard the shower turn on.

His phone wasn't on the nightstand. He'd taken it in with him.

Who brings a phone into the shower?

---

Three nights later, I woke up at two in the morning, and his side of the bed was cold.

I padded down the hall. The balcony door was cracked open, letting in a thin stripe of October air. His voice came through it, low and soft. It was a voice I knew very well.

It was the voice he used to use with me.

"Hey. Hey, don't cry. Come on."

I stopped behind the curtain.

"I know. I know I promised." A pause. A soft laugh. "Don't be mad at me, okay? Two more days. I'll come see you in two days. I swear."

Another pause.

"Yeah. Me too. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

He hadn't called me sweetheart in a year.

I stood there with my bare feet going numb on the hardwood, listening to him breathe out, slow and satisfied, like a man who had just fixed a problem.

I went back to bed before he turned around. When he slid in beside me, I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even.

He fell asleep in five minutes.

I stayed awake until the sky outside turned gray.

---

The next morning, I made coffee and waited for him at the kitchen island.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

He looked up from his tablet. "Why?"

"The engagement photos. The photographer sent the proofs to your email, remember? I want to pick the ones for the save-the-dates."

He hesitated for half a beat. Then he slid the phone across the marble.

"Knock yourself out."

I typed in his passcode. The same one he'd had for six years.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I tried my birthday.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I tried our anniversary, the day we first started dating.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I looked up. Nathaniel was watching me over the rim of his mug.

"You changed your password."

"Company policy." He set the mug down. "IT made all the executives update everything last week. Some security breach in the Chicago office."

"Huh. What's the new one?"

He reached over and took the phone back. He didn't snatch it. He was smoother than that. He just lifted it from my fingers like he was helping me.

"I'll send you the photos myself." He tilted his head. "Why are you being weird about this?"

"I'm not being weird."

"You tried three different codes, Audrey." His voice stayed warm, but his eyes didn't. "Do you not trust me? Is that what this is?"

I looked at him. The strong jaw. The expensive haircut. The tiny frown he'd perfected, the one that made me feel like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

Something rose in my chest.

It wasn't tears. It was a laugh.

It came out light and easy, and he blinked like he didn't know what to do with it.

"Of course I trust you." I smiled and patted his hand. "Send me the photos when you get a chance."

"...Okay."

He tucked the phone into his inside jacket pocket, close to his heart. Then he kissed the top of my head and left for work.

I sat there with my coffee going cold and watched the front door.

Fine, Nathaniel.

If you love hiding things that much, I'll let you.

But I'm going to find out exactly what kind of treasure you're hiding.