It wasn't just Claire.
If I just canceled the wedding, my so-called fiancée would cry to her friends about a fiancé with cold feet. Isla would nod, pat her hand, and tell everyone I'd never really been ready after Rachel. They'd move on and try the same scheme on someone else.
I looked at Claire in the dark. At the small, peaceful shape of her under our comforter. At the woman who'd promised my six-year-old she could call her "Mom" someday.
They'd move on.
But since she wished the girls harm, I realized one thing: I couldn't ignore it.
Her birthday was in two weeks. She'd been talking about it for a month. Claire had invited 60 guests. Her mother would be in the front row. A cake big enough to feed a wedding.
A stage, basically. With a projector already rented.
I turned onto my back, stared at the ceiling, and made two decisions before the sun came up.
I couldn't ignore it.
I wasn't going to marry her.
And I wasn't going to warn her.
***
The morning after I read those messages, I made coffee as if nothing had changed. Claire kissed the back of my neck and asked if I'd picked a suit for the party.
"Charcoal or navy?" I asked.
"Charcoal. It photographs better."
I wasn't going to warn her.
"Photos. Right."
My fiancée didn't catch the edge. I was learning she rarely did, as long as I kept smiling.
***
Two weeks. That's what I had, and I used every hour of it.
I started with small questions, the kind a doting fiancé might ask over dinner.
What did she picture our life looking like a year from now? Two years? Five?
"Honestly?" Claire swirled her wine. "I'd love a fresh start after the wedding. Just us, settling into the rhythm."
"Just us?"
My fiancée didn't catch the edge.
"You know what I mean, Benny. The girls too, of course. But structure helps kids. Boarding programs build character."
"My old man used to say the same thing."
"Smart man."
I nodded and refilled her glass. In my head, I labeled that clip Exhibit B.
***
After Claire fell asleep, I sat in the garage with my laptop. I backed up every screenshot to a cloud folder I named "Wedding Vows," because if I was going to do this, I was going to enjoy at least one joke along the way.
"Boarding programs build character."
I built the evidence in order. All of it, in a sequence a jury would understand.
I hired a videographer for the party under the excuse of "documenting Claire's big night." She practically squealed!
"You're the sweetest, Benny!"
"I try."
***
I watched Isla more carefully in those two weeks than I had in months.
I built the evidence in order.
She corrected Claire's posture at dinner. She refilled her wine before my fiancée asked for it. Isla even told a long story about her late second husband and "the years I lost," and Claire nodded like a kid taking notes.
***
I invited Isla over for pancakes one Saturday, specifically so I could burn hers.
"Oh," she said, staring at the black edge. "How rustic."
"Family recipe."
She took one polite bite and set the fork down. I ate mine cheerfully in front of her.
Isla even told a long story about her late second husband.
Lily piped up from the other end of the table.
"Daddy always burns them!"
"I know, sweetheart. It's our thing," Claire said with a smile.
Isla's smile did that thing where it moved but didn't warm.
***
I rehearsed my toast in the car. Out loud. Muttering to the rearview mirror while I waited at pickup.
Lily's voice floated from the back seat.
