Chapter 4 - The Uninvited Guest
The Botanical Atrium was a masterpiece of glass and exotic flowers, smelling of orchids and expensive catering.
I did not change my clothes. I walked through the grand glass doors wearing a rain-dampened maternity sweater, dark leggings, and sneakers. The string quartet was playing a soft, elegant prelude. Around eighty guests were seated in white chiavari chairs, waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle.
At the front, standing beneath a massive floral arch, was Grayson.
He looked immaculate in a tailored tuxedo. Victoria and Avery sat in the front row, dabbing their eyes with tissues, playing the roles of the supportive, loving family.
I didn't sneak in the back. I walked straight down the center aisle.
The first person to notice me was Avery. Her jaw dropped so fast she almost choked. She grabbed Victoria’s arm, digging her nails in. Victoria turned, her face instantly draining of all color, her elegant composure shattering into sheer, unadulterated horror.
Then, Grayson saw me.
The smile on his face slid off like wet paint. His knees visibly buckled, and he actually took a step backward, nearly knocking over a massive vase of white roses.
"Lauren?" he choked out, the microphone clipped to his lapel broadcasting his panic to the entire room.
The string quartet scraped to a halt. Eighty pairs of eyes turned toward me, taking in my heavy, six-month pregnant belly and the absolute, terrifying calm on my face.
"Good morning, Grayson," I said, stopping ten feet from the altar. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't have to. The glass room was dead silent. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was at the emergency room with Jack. He had a 104-degree fever while you were putting on your tuxedo."
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Gasps rippled through the audience. The bride's family, seated on the left side, began whispering frantically.
"Lauren, please," Grayson begged, his hands trembling violently. "Let's step outside. Please, you're not well—"
