“This is between me and Daphne.”
Gabriella barked out a humorless laugh. “Until I tell the tabloids, and then it’s between Daphne and the world—”
Jefferson took a few steps forward, until his face was close to Gabriella’s.
“Let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to repeat what you just said, not ever, not to anyone. In fact, I suggest you leave town,” he added. “You’ve done enough damage lately, don’t you think?”
Gabriella took a step back, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t the Middle Ages, Jeff. You can’t exile me because my father embezzled some money.”
“Of course I can’t exile you,” he agreed. “All I can do is personally ensure that you are never invited to a single party in this town ever again. And this has nothing to do with your father,” he added. “I would never punish someone for the actions of their parents. This is because you are selfish and vicious, and a terrible friend.”
Daphne fell a little bit in love with Jefferson right then, for being such a consummate gentleman. For extending the umbrella of his protection over her, even when she so clearly didn’t deserve it.
Gabriella stamped her foot like a petulant child, then whirled around and stormed outside.
Samantha shot them a worried glance, mumbling about how Gabriella had tricked the guards into letting her back here. Then she and Nina left, quietly shutting the door behind them.
Daphne looked up at Jefferson, and her resolve momentarily wavered. He was so achingly handsome, like the fairy-tale prince of her childish daydreams.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Jefferson nodded stiffly. “I would never let someone slander our relationship like that. But…is it true?” he asked, in a softer voice. “You and Ethan?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it.
She had always prided herself on her ability to read Jefferson, so she saw the emotions that flickered over his face in rapid succession: shock and anger and pain and, underneath it all, unmistakable relief.
He didn’t want to get married today, and she was making that decision easier for him.
“Was it a one-time thing, or did it happen more than once?” he asked hoarsely.
Daphne closed her eyes, wincing. “More than once. I’m so sorry, Jefferson—I never meant to hurt you,” she added. The words felt paper-thin against the crushing weight of her betrayal.
Jefferson circled the room once, then sank back onto the love seat and rested his head in his hands. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset. I trusted you, and Ethan.” He sighed. “But I guess we’ve both made mistakes.”
“You and Nina?” she said softly, knowing the answer.
Jeff reddened. “Nothing happened last night, I swear.”
She hadn’t realized that he and Nina were even together last night.
There was something almost funny in the knowledge she and Jefferson had both been with other people the night before their wedding—amusing in a dark, twisted way. What a piece of work they were.
Ignoring her strict instructions not to sit once she was in her gown, Daphne collapsed onto the love seat next to him. Her lace skirts frothed up around her like an enchanted cloud.
“Do you love Ethan?”
Whatever Daphne had expected Jefferson to ask, it wasn’t that.
“Ethan and I…We understand each other,” she said carefully.
He nodded slowly. “I’ve always known he had a thing for you. I saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. I figured it was just attraction, because how could anyone not be attracted to you?” Jefferson sighed. “Until he wrote that rehearsal-dinner toast, which was far better than what I would’ve come up with.”
Somehow, Daphne couldn’t bear for this to be the note they ended on. “I do love you, Jefferson. It’s just not the type of love that you deserve.”
“Did you ever love me that way? For myself, I mean,” he explained. “Or were you always in love with the idea of me?”
To Daphne’s surprise, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him how much of their relationship had been a lie—an ingenious and flawless lie, because lying was an art and she was its greatest performer. She had never loved Jefferson in the passionate, tumultuous way he’d assumed she did. The way Nina had once loved him.
Yet there was love between them, wasn’t there? The sort of love that comes from knowing someone’s whole heart, from years of history. Daphne looked at Jefferson and felt their shared youth shimmering between them like a fragment of sunlight. Like a ghost.
“You were my first love,” she told him, and for once, she wasn’t lying.
There were many kinds of love. Jefferson would always be her first, even if he wasn’t meant to be her last.
“And you were mine.” He looked at her with a half smile. “By the way, Daph, you look beautiful today. I hope you know that.”
She ran a hand over the exquisite lace of her gown. “I’m keeping this, in case I ever do get married,” she said, testing a joke.
“I figured that was a given. The clothes come with the wedding, even if it’s canceled.”
With some regret, she reached for the ring on her left hand and twisted it off. “This, though, I think I have to give back. It came from the Crown Jewels vault.”
It was beautiful, yet it already felt like a ring that had been chosen for someone else: a misguided and mistrustful girl who wore pantyhose and wrote thank-you notes in perfect cursive and tried to please everyone.
If she did get engaged again someday, it wouldn’t be with a traditional diamond solitaire. Her next ring would be something wild and unexpected—something that fit the person she was becoming, a person she was still figuring out.
She and Jefferson sat there for a moment, adjusting to the strange new honesty between them. Then he walked over to the buffet table, to the silver platter arranged with wedding cake—the pastry chef always made a few sheet cakes of the same recipe, along with the enormous decorative one that was on display in the ballroom. The extras would be given to the staff to take home for their families.
“We might as well try this, right?”
Jefferson speared a piece of cake and held out the fork for Daphne, as if they were actually at the reception and posing for the photos. She wasn’t sure whether it made her want to laugh or cry.
She leaned forward to eat the cake from the outstretched fork. It was light and fluffy, with a faint hint of almond and vanilla. When she took the fork from Jefferson and offered him a bite, he got a smear of buttercream icing on his lip. Daphne had half a mind to call the photographer in here: Look, the most celebrated couple in the world, eating their wedding cake picnic-style before they cancel the whole thing!