The knitted jacket had already served exactly the purpose for which my mother had chosen it.
That brought me back.
I walked towards the elevator without ringing the doorbell.
Back in my studio, the wedding dress hung by the window, gleaming white in the streetlight. I stood before it and whispered, “You almost cost me everything.”
My phone vibrated.
Julian.
I answered because I wanted to hear his voice before he realized I knew.
“Hey, dear,” he said gently. “Did you manage to get home?”
“Yes.”
“You seem to be speaking in a strange way.”
“I am tired.”
“Tomorrow is a great day.” He chuckled softly. “My mother was just saying how lucky I am.”
I looked at the dress. Then I looked at the folder on my desk that contained the deed to the apartment, my mortgage documents, bank statements, the inheritance account, and all the transfers I had already sent to his family.
“Julian,” I whispered. “Do you love me?”
There was a pause.
“Harper, what kind of question is that the night before our wedding?”
“A simple one.”
“Of course I love you. I’m going to marry you tomorrow.”
“That’s not the same answer.”
He sighed softly and patiently, as if I were just being emotional. “You’re nervous. Sleep, okay? Everything will be alright tomorrow.”
I almost played the recording for him right then and there.
But my mother’s closest friend, Aunt Sylvia, was a lawyer specializing in civil law, and I suddenly remembered something she told me years ago while we were having coffee.
Don’t make your strongest move while you’re trembling.
So I ended the call.
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