Chapter 9
I looked away before I cried.
Dad handed me a napkin.
“You also caught a four-point-eight-million-dollar transfer before breakfast.”
I laughed.
“Technically, you caught it.”
“I asked a question.”
“You froze the payment.”
“Because you told me to.”
That mattered.
More than he probably knew.
For months, I had worried that people would tell the story as though my powerful father had swept in and saved his helpless daughter.
That wasn’t what happened.
Dad had resources.
Evelyn had legal expertise.
The board had authority.
But I had made the decision.
I had said stop the payment.
I had refused to sign.
I had walked into that boardroom.
I had ended the marriage.
My father hadn’t rescued me.
He had simply stood beside me while I rescued myself.
A year later, I attended another wedding.
My cousin Julia married her college boyfriend at a vineyard in Vermont.
At the reception, I almost left before the bouquet toss.
The tradition felt ridiculous now.
But Julia spotted me hiding near the bar.
“Nora!”
“No.”
She laughed.
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Get over here.”
Twenty women gathered behind her.
I reluctantly joined them.
Julia turned around and threw the bouquet much too hard.
It sailed over everyone.
Straight toward me.
I caught it against my chest by reflex.
The entire room cheered.
For half a second, I was back in Boston.
White roses.
Camille’s hands.
Reid telling me not to call my father.
Then Julia ran over and hugged me.
“You okay?”
I looked down.
Peonies.
Pink ones.
The flowers I had originally wanted at my own wedding.
I started laughing.
Not politely.
Really laughing.
Julia looked confused.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I hugged her.
“They’re perfect.”
Later that night, I stepped outside onto the terrace.
The mountains were dark against a violet sky.
Dad joined me.
“You caught the bouquet.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Should I start interviewing candidates?”
“Please don’t.”
“I have a spreadsheet.”
I stared at him.
He held the expression for three seconds before smiling.
I shoved his shoulder.
Then he went back inside.
I stayed outside a little longer.
There was a time when I thought the worst thing that could happen to a bride was being humiliated at her wedding.
I was wrong.
The worst thing would have been signing those papers on Monday.
The worst thing would have been spending another five years trusting two people who had already decided my trust was something they could monetize.